#mount airy lodge

[deadmotelsusa]

The indoor pool at Mount Airy Lodge, pictured in the 1960s and 2005, before demolition.

[inniave]

💙 All you have to bring is your love of everything 💙

[holohedral]

bought a vintage mount airy lodge matchbook for my dresser so visitors know what i’m about (color tv, heavenly shag carpeting, something very strange in the air)

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now being treated with greater severity, with many being subject to the same penalties as crimes against humans. While anti-android attitudes are on the decline, transforming the mindset of an entire city is no simple task.

A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' prompt a shift in perspective?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Smut

Word Count: 7K

Gavin woke up to a wave of white filling his vision, exacerbated by a harsh glow of light. It blinded him temporarily and left his gaze to trail aimlessly through the vacuous surroundings. He couldn't remember everything that happened, but there were small, disordered snippets. Intense pain, the roar of a gunshot, Connor grappling with Alex. Then Nines, holding him in his arms, as he began to fade away.

A voice was calling out, soft and soothing, filled with warmth. Delicate hands held his shoulders, gently caressing them.

"Gavin, can you hear me?"

Any fears he might have had about the nature of his afterlife were quickly dispelled. The figure above him was blurred, but their features seemed willing to mould themselves to his desires. He let out a gentle hum of contentment as an enticing visage began to take shape.

"Guess the big man upstairs can't be too pissed, got me an angel."

The figure was silent momentarily, as though absorbing what the man had just said before they let out a short, disbelieving snort. The illusion was abruptly shattered as Gavin noted an unsteady mix of colours emanating from their temple. Seeming to sync with the sounds coming from a nearby monitor.

"As flattering as that comparison might be, I feel it forthcoming to inform you that you are alive."

Then he felt the cannula—tubes of plastic lodged uncomfortably in his nostrils—and the needle embedded in his hand attached to a nearby drip. He blinked up at the ‘angel’, whose features were beginning to sharpen. Familiar eyes peered down at him, accompanied by a gentle smile.

"Nines?" Realising his mistake, he concluded that the liquid in his drip must be some form of painkillers. Strong ones.

Mercifully, the android did not indulge in any further teasing, instead offering a small nod of acknowledgement. "It's good to hear your voice."

As Gavin tried to lean forward, a sudden rush of delirium halted him. His head felt light and airy, as though he were coasting in a dream.

"How the fuck did I get here? I remember getting hit in the head…and my nose being broken…and fuck, then I was shot." He touched a point on his chest, which he last recalled being soaked in blood. "Would have thought I was a goner for sure..."

"The bullet punctured one of your lungs, resulting in a traumatic hemopneumothorax. Connor and I were able to keep you stable until medical assistance arrived."

Gavin's attention flitted to a wall-mounted television at the far end of the room. As he noted a time stamp in the corner of the news channel that was playing, his head swelled with confusion. The time that had elapsed seemed suspiciously short, leaving him to wonder if he had misread it.

"How long was I out for?"

Nines' soft smile had disappeared, replaced with a perturbed scowl. "A few days...it was touch and go for a while. Your heart stopped beating several times."

The man stalled at the revelation.

Well. Shit.

Then, as the initial shock waned, he was struck by something else—an overwhelming sense of luck, as well as a newfound appreciation for his own tangibility. He held his hands in front of his face, chuckling unsteadily as he did. "Would you look at me? The undead asshole." 

Nines flinched at the crass words, his head bowed forlornly. "This should have never been permitted to happen, wouldn't have happened, had I gone with you. I was too preoccupied with my own self-interests, and because of that, you almost—" 

The sentence was aborted, undercut by a harsh, metallic sound. It took Gavin's drug-addled mind a minute to catch up with what was happening, and then he heard the sobs.

"I was the intended target, and you were the one caught in the crossfire." Despair was etched into the android's features, pale skin streaked with tears. "It should have been me." 

Gavin felt a twinge of sorrow at the implication, worsened by the anguished sounds that Nines was making. He tried to sit up again, but his weakened body refused to comply. "Come on, I don't think you getting shot would have been ideal either."

"After I attacked you, I felt lost—scared of losing control." He was babbling, clipped laments just barely coherent. Glimpses of red bled through his fingers as he clutched the sides of his head. "I thought in distancing myself I could seek to protect us both." 

"You don't have to explain."

"It was a cowardly thing to do. Had I lost you, it would have been my fault, a consequence of my own selfishness—"

"Will you shut up for a minute?" It had not been intended for the request to come across so harshly, and the regret he felt was instantaneous.

Nines flinched, his body jerking before he sunk into his chair with a resigned nod of compliance. It hurt to see him this way, so profoundly distraught and broken. A deep, sinking ache in his chest that could not be ignored.

While too weak to initiate the action fully, the detective extended his arms, beckoning him forward with a twitch of his fingers. "Come here."

After a fleeting hesitation, the offer was accepted. The android slumped against his body, and Gavin felt the tension stored in his synthetic muscles begin to dissipate. He reached a hand behind his head and gently pulled it towards his shoulder.

"You weren't being selfish; you were trying to do what was best", he assured, carding his fingers slowly through strands of soft brown hair.

Everything about his demeanour measured and calm, a conscious departure from his usual abrasive attitude. This newly-adopted resolve proved challenging to maintain, however, as the pressure of their embrace intensified. A twinge of pain broke through his numbness, triggering an involuntary hiss.

"Even if you fucked up a bit."

Nines emitted a small huff as he readjusted his weight, carefully nestling his head against his ribcage. "When Connor explained what was happening, when I saw you in the warehouse, I realised what a terrible mistake I had made—

There will always be dangers in the world. I am far from the only one. For as long as I am in control, I wish to protect you."

Gavin hoped, albeit vainly, that the android would fail to detect the embarrassing flutter in his chest as he said this. "I’m not some fairytale princess, jackass. I don't need a knight in plastic armour to come and save me." 

"I know you don't, but I would appreciate it if you would humour me for just a moment."

They stayed that way for quite some time, savouring the warmth of each other's bodies. After what felt like an eternity of prolonged physical and psychological torment, Gavin was profoundly appreciative of the simple moment of peace.

A part of him wished to stay there forever, refusing to allow anything to breach the walls of contentment. Then, he sealed his own undoing with a single, thoughtless musing:

"So, you're definitely real, right? This isn't some weird doped-up fantasy?"

The android's head tilted upwards. The stormy intensity of his eyes was absent, replaced with a look of serene tranquility. "It isn't." 

"Meaning you are the Nines that I spilt my guts to." 

"That would also be correct."

The floodgates were opened as the man was accosted by a wave of uncomfortable memories. He sunk further into his bed, wishing he could vanish entirely within the folds of the sheets.

"Well, shit. Now I kind of wish I was dead."

The peaceful expression dropped instantaneously as Nines shot up, his LED flaring like a warning beacon. "Why on Earth would you wish for that?" 

"Come on, I haven't exactly been great with how I've handled all this...I can't believe I said I’d wait for you. That’s fucking pathetic."

"Perhaps the message was delivered abrasively, but the sentiment was there. I thought it was sweet." Amidst the comforting sincerity, there appeared to be something Nines was holding back. His focus darted to the side as his lips pulled into a taut line. "You have no idea how hard it was. Walking away from you."

"Just don't do it again," Gavin grumbled back, halfway between a chide and a plea. He reached out across the bed, fingers brushing the side of his companion’s hand. "No more running. For either of us."

Nines stilled at the touch before his own fingers twitched to life. Moving along the sheets, he blanketed the man's calloused skin with his palm. 

"No more running", he agreed softly. "With any luck, that will mean future sentiment can be expressed more opportunely."

There was something about this statement that inspired a moment of introspection. Sorting through his fractured recollections of the distribution centre, there were certain memories Gavin wished to solidify more than others. Namely, the last exchange the two of them shared.

"Back in the warehouse, you said something to me, right before I passed out." 

It hadn't been a question, but the weighty pause that followed confirmed his desire for elaboration. The android appeared flustered at this, a fine dusting of blue powdering his cheeks.

"You know what I said."

"I’d been hit in the head with a steel pipe, and I was bleeding out. Didn't know if I was imagining it." The man stared at him intently, scrutinising his torn expression. "I wanna hear you say it again."

Nines made a quiet, shuddering sound, charged with electricity. There was a soulful vulnerability in his gaze as he leant forward, closing the gap between them.The kiss was slow and tender, culminating with a heartfelt proclamation whispered against his lips. "I love you." 

An apprehensive breath that had lodged in his throat finally released. It left Gavin temporarily speechless, wondering when those words had last incited such a reaction. Of course, he didn't express this, settling for a more 'restrained' response.

"Fucking knew it."

Rolling his eyes with a playful flourish, Nines steadily pulled away. "Yes, well, you are a detective. I would have hoped you could deduce something so transparent." 

"God, this is so cheesy," he said back, mingled with a deep groan. "Straight out of a rom-com, bet Connor would love it."

His companion failed to regard the sentiment with the same degree of enthusiasm. A faint furrow creased his brow as he fiddled with the trim of his jacket. "I’m not sure ‘love’ would be the most apt descriptor, but I imagine he'd make an effort to be supportive."

Oh.

In retrospect, a less than stellar reception to his and Nines’ relationship could have been anticipated—given the extensive emotional and physical antagonism he had shown his brother. Gavin slipped his hand away, picking at one of his weathered knuckles. "How's he holding up, anyway? Him and the old bastard."

"The Reaper roused a few minutes after you lost consciousness. I believe Hank pulled a tendon whilst keeping him restrained. Aside from that, they are both fine."

The temptation to poke fun at the older man’s physical durability, or lack thereof, was staggering. Despite this, he resisted.

"Got time to work on them, then. Wear ‘em down like I did with you."

"I would hardly call it wearing me down," the android contended, reaching forward and brushing a hand across his cheek. "Connor told me about what you did, piecing together the final riddle in my absence. Your intelligence and courage are more than deserving of my adoration. I am confident that the others will be just as appreciative, given time."

Gavin scoffed at the words of reassurance, his brow raised incredulously. "Whatever happened to you not having an advanced social protocol? Smooth-talking bastard."

"I've been practising," Nines admitted, planting affectionate kisses along the length of his jaw. "I also recall telling you that I learn from experience. Perhaps you are more adept with words than you think."

"Bullshit. Feel free to carry on, though. If the aim is to charm my pants off, it's working."

"Gavin." The name sounded low and needy as it rolled off his tongue, movements trailing intently towards his mouth. 

The kiss that followed was harsh and feverish, filled with shared desperation. Gavin panted eagerly as he felt a tongue slip past his lips, skillfully coaxing out a series of moans. With each movement, he pulled Nines closer—until he was draped across the bed, practically crawling inside.

"Whooaaa there. Sorry, fellas, are we interrupting something?"

They shot apart instantly, startled by the address. The detective initially assumed it had come from some ill-fated nurse—receiving an unexpected show on their afternoon drug round. His embarrassment escalated to mortification as he discovered the reality to be much worse.

Hank and Connor stood in the doorway, sharing mirrored looks of confusion. The latter sported a large plastic bag, as well as a length of ribbon attached to his wrist. At the end of the ribbon was a foil balloon reading ‘Get Well Soon’ in a blocky font. 

The cheerful sentiment was juxtaposed comically by an increasingly sour expression. His LED blinked in yellow pulses as he glanced wearily at his brother.

"I did say we were coming."

"Yes, I received your message", Nines clipped back as his cool-toned blush deepened significantly. "I was...distracted."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" 

Gavin glowered at Hank, who was shamelessly tittering at his own joke. "You dipshits ever heard of knocking?" 

"This is a public hospital, and the door was open—" It was evident Connor wished to continue but was dissuaded by a pleading look from his brother. He inhaled deeply before starting again, addressing the man with a more composed neutrality. "Nines asked if we could stop at your home. I fed your cats and brought you some clothes."

"Is everyone just letting themselves into my fucking apartment now?" 

"I’ll be sure to foot the bill for your window."

The dry response had clearly been been intended as a joke, but the mystified silence that followed informed of its failure to land. Connor’s jaw hardened in tenuously repressed frustration. "I was advised on the location of your key. If you don't want your home to be easily accessed, I suggest you find somewhere more secure to keep it."

"Not the only reason we came down." Hank interrupted, despite the visible amusement he was garnering from the exchange. Striding towards the bed, he settled himself down on one of the hard plastic chairs. "We wanted to fill you in with what is happening at the station."

As the detective attempted to sit up, Nines sought to support him, placing a hand under his arm. "Has he talked yet? Alex, Gideon, or whatever the fuck his name is."

"Seems like the prick has changed it a few times." Hank reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small photograph and presenting it to him. "He was born Dimitar Petrov in Varna, Bulgaria. Worked as an engineer at CyberLife for three months until he was made redundant."

Gavin stared down at the picture, to which Dimitar glared back. His darkened eyes exuded a disquieting rage, hands clenched on the sides of an arrest board. The longer he looked, the more the visage churned his stomach, skin crawling with phantom touches. 

"He isn't even Russian. Lying motherfucker…"

His disgruntled murmuring elicited an immediate reaction from Nines, whose grip tightened, head tilted curiously. Before he had a chance to speak, Connor had interjected:

"We found several IDs in his possession. The Gideon pseudonym seems to coincide with his move to Detroit." He removed the balloon from his wrist, anchoring it to the bed's footboard. "At the time of his redundancy, he had received several warnings for what was believed espionage."

"He was trying to take them down from the inside." A sneer accompanied the deduction as Gavin set the photo on a nearby table. "Before the revolution fucked up his plans. Demented and deluded—a real fucking winner."

"On the bright side, the ego worked to our advantage," Hank chimed in. "As soon as Connor got him talking about his ‘holy mission’, he sang like a fucking canary."

"The case will have to go to trial", the RK800 clarified. "While he confessed to attacking and dismantling the androids, he maintains his only murder was that of the human woman."

"It won't make a difference," his partner added. "Even if the law agreed with him, which it doesn't, one count of First Degree murder is more than enough to send him down. Plus, we got the fuckers 'trophy collection'. No talking his way around that."

"He’ll need a damn good lawyer, that's for sure." Having exhausted the remainder of his energy, Gavin allowed his head to lull back, eyelids drooping. "Guy couldn't even talk me into bed; he doesn't stand a chance against a jury."

The silence that followed was legendary. Hank and Connor exchanged troubled glances before their attention slowly drifted to Nines. The android in question had seized in place, his stoic expression unreadable. 

"What are you talking about?"

Gavin's fluttering lids suddenly snapped open. While admitting culpability for his more egregious crimes, Dimitar had clearly maintained silence on his more 'ethically grey' practices.

They were all looking at him expectantly, as it occurred to the detective just how effectively he had sought to corner himself. Nines seemed particularly anticipative. While his face remained indecipherable, it was clear that they would not be moving on from the topic without some form of elaboration. 

He chewed the inside of his mouth, unsure how best to broach the subject. "...Do you remember that date I went on? With the guy I was texting in the Storage Locker?"

A spark of yellow ignited the RK900's forehead, spinning in disordered flashes for a number of seconds. "Yes."

"Well, turns out the Reaper really wanted some insider information—but don't worry, he was a shit kisser. Wasn't about to tempt me to the dark side with a tongue like a fucking spin cycle." 

There was silence for a disconcerting length of time, but the fractious tremble of the android's shoulders and steady careen of his jaw spoke volumes. It ignited a spark of concern in Gavin as he attempted to place a hand on his forearm.

"It's fine."

Nines had stood before he made contact, face contorted with disgust. "It is not fine. You were taken advantage of. In a hideous, unforgivable way."

"Where the Hell are you going?" 

"To the station. I would like to request five minutes alone in this man's holding cell."

As he charged towards the exit, Connor smoothly intercepted, the red flicker on his temple betraying his rising alarm. "Your energy output is extremely low. I’m not sure that's a good idea. How about we take a walk instead?" 

"I don't need a walk."

"Then we can find somewhere to sit. You've had a long couple of days. The fresh air may do you some good!" 

"If you don't allow me to go to the station, then I will not be leaving this hospital."

Connor's forced optimism was beginning to wane as his approach proved ill-effective. "What if we…get some coffee for Hank and Gavin?" he suggested, making a vague gesture out of the doorway. "There is a machine down the hall. It would only take a few minutes."

Shooting his predecessor a withering look, the RK900 finally relented. "Fine."

The two androids disappeared around the corner, leaving their human companions behind. After a stretch of awkward silence, Hank started to make a series of popping noises under his breath, accompanied by drumming on his lap.

"So, when's the wedding?"

"Fuck off, Anderson."

"l want you to make an honest android of him. Can lend you Sumo if you need a flower pooch."

"I hope that you die and your dog fucking eats you."

"You really are a charmer, aintcha? It’s easy to see how you won Nines over." Hank batted his eyelashes teasingly before the playful demeanour quickly dropped. "...Seriously, the kid's been a wreck, Reed. Refused to leave your side for even a second, had to be dragged out of the room during your operation."

Gavin's eyes widened at this, as a complex swell of emotions washed over him. "He's been here the entire time?"  

The other man nodded in confirmation. "I know it might go without saying, but you m

[fatherlybeast]

Honeymoon suite in abandoned Mount Airy Lodge in Poconos, PA

[the-gone-ton]

"I'm still here"

The Pocono Gardens Lodge was open at least as early as the 40s as a honeymoon resort and was later purchased by its more famous neighbor, the legendary Mount Airy Lodge, in 1971. As business declined for the whole Mount Airy operation, Pocono Gardens' amenities, such as dining rooms and cocktail lounges, were shut down, leaving guests to use the amenities at the Mount Airy Lodge instead. In 2000, what was left of Pocono Gardens Lodge shut down.

[the-haiku-bot]

Honeymoon suite in

abandoned Mount Airy Lodge

in Poconos, PA

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

Honeymoon suite in abandoned Mount Airy Lodge in Poconos, PA

[writer59january13]

Please come join me in spirit if not in body...

regarding my resumption of daily/mostly nightly constitutional

I accompany my dark shadow... (small number of hours before edge of night,

where twilight zone evokes night gallery - drawing celestial sphere closer to me from the outer limits),

and resumed walking a circuit

around perimeter of parking lot imbibing the scent of Mother Nature

beginning today after

a hiatus of countless years - aiming to foster stamina before returning to the contra dance - in Mount Airy after optomitrist Paul Halpern reconfigures pertinent characteristics post cataract surgery to fit appropriate spectacles) meanwhile yours truly (me) exercises his right to bare arms

air supply sustained

by breezy temperate

twenty seventh seal of Bergmanian September two thousand and twenty four, and perhaps if regularly habituate myself to said stroll physical endeavors may one day find me to cantor or trot and stop horsing around.

Yours truly realized modus operandi

to kombat (mortal) lethargy;

last year, he did stride rite around resident parking lot area (here at Highland Manor apartments)

then usually at approximately

19:00 hours each day

casually bumbling and ambling one lap after another

counting one hundred and one,

one hundred and two, one hundred and three...

coordinated with deep breathing

to distract self from repetitiveness.

Modicum of walking exercise benefits this sexagenarian

in tandem yours truly began

burning ghee (my slang for calories) while maintaining sitting position placing each foot in strap and pedalling lightweight machine

against adjusted tension.

Aside from strengthening leg muscles

choosing to while away time

by disciplining myself with former or latter,

both modes of physical fitness

also help keep anguish at bay (plus sublimating, and redirecting formerly tied in with hair compulsion)

mental duress triggered

courtesy of property management

constituting: Zoftig, the warden

and maintenance man, (a recent hire),

the first two whose invisible clutches

asphyxiate me and the missus hounding us to keep

one bedroom apartment in shipshape order and particularly and somewhat unpleasant to wipe away fruit fly feces (cuz exterminator informed us said itty bitty teeny weeny insect breeds within their

yellowish gummy waste matter)

prompting us to Google search senior low income apartment facilities, spurring spurious query wondering

whether any anonymous reader might be able, eager, ready and willing to hand over keys to main lodging

including carriage house, we would even settle for a dog house

or (in a manor of writing) Yukon

assign access rights to access an excellent outlook.

Sense and sensibility concerning

the emotional fallout

brought about by sedentariness

(essentially affecting me to feel glum, melancholy, and ruminative)

helped goad generic indigent solitary man (practically self quarantined

his whole mucked up adult life),

hence not inconvenienced

when coronavirus COVID-19

wrought havoc and mayhem.

Just on the cusp of experiencing joie de vivre,

the triumvirate of Crooks and Quade

figuratively swoop down

to announce re: inspection

of apartment unit B44

whenever they deem appropriate.

Thus series of unfortunate events

(linkedin with bull limey Lemony Snicket bro)

got sidelined nsync with

contracting a minor bout with deadly Amish Flu symptoms include feeling horse and a little buggy found garden variety reasonable rhymer

faux being bedridden (just pretending to get sympathy) once again feigning feeling a little horse and buggy (ha),

incapacitated to craft

original signature poetry writing, cuz for your edification most of these words written at least a couple years ago.

An honest to dog confession

regarding hiatus spewing forth vociferous versatile vocabulary

mine words - worth their weight in gold (told woofer I do not know), nevertheless

included perusing a gamut of reading material.

The passion to engross intellect

witnessed courtesy immersing

attention, concentration, excitation gratification, intoxication;

knowledge prized more precious

than fine spun gold.

Likewise crafting (albeit painstakingly)

elusive notions that flit to and fro hither and yon (analogous to ping pong ball)

within parameters of

microscopically crenellated

sixty plus shades of gray matter

also constitutes fervent interest.

[petnews2day]

Fantastic Cat Parody Dating Services in 'All My Fault' Video: Watch

New Post has been published on https://petn.ws/3bz7I

Fantastic Cat Parody Dating Services in 'All My Fault' Video: Watch

Vivian Wang* If you grew up anywhere within the New York TV viewing radius in the Eighties, you probably remember the commercials advertising the Poconos’ “beautiful Mount Airy Lodge.” Fantastic Cat sure do. The band’s new video for “All My Fault” is rich in shameless cheese — and gloriously fun. Structured around a video-dating-for-singles conceit […]

See full article at https://petn.ws/3bz7I #CatsNews

[roulette-strategy-software]

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[deadmotelsusa]

The Grand View Towers at Mount Airy Lodge, pictured in the 60s, 70s and 2004, right before demolition.

[luuurien]

Nicole Dollanganger - Married in Mount Airy

(Singer/Songwriter, Indie Folk, Slowcore)

With an interesting narrative but often flatlining in its compositions and delivery, Nicole Dollanganger’s latest album lands all its aesthetic goals but fails to provide an engaging experience the full way through. Married in Mount Airy’s gentle, dreamy songs blend into each other too much for each to make an impact.

☆☆☆

Throughout the 2010s, Nicole Dollanganger always provided a darker, personal antidote to the often disconnected and fuzzy sound of modern slowcore, narratives surrounding lurid sexual encounters and both the physical and mental tolls of abuse and romance and how those different feelings wrap around one another bringing to life some of the darkest albums of that decade along with some of the most beautiful music, too. Her latest album, Married in Mount Airy, follows a similar trajectory through Dollanganger’s imagery-heavy and emotionally resonant lyricism and Matthew Tomasi’s murky yet ethereal production, but the album struggles to consistently hold your attention when every song relys on the same compositional ideas and the relaxed slowcore stylings hold back how big and expansive Dollanganger’s storytelling could’ve been. It’s a gentle, hazy album, but the music never pulls itself out of the fog to give you something greater. Dollanganger’s songwriting is the base from which Married in Mount Airy’s dark purple potion of slowcore/folk fusion, spinning a more cohesive narrative than the individual stories that her previous projects used to get all its ideas across. Named after the Mount Airy Lodge that was the prime destination for honeymooners until its closure in 2001, the album’s emphasis on romance is twisted by Dollanganger in her usual ways, corrosive relationships and substance abuse and physical violence contorting these cold, minimalist songs to thrilling effect: the opening title track contrasts the timeless beauty of the lodge with a love that seems to have been doomed long before the marriage was made official (“Don't recall what we were drinking / But I remember thinking / There was something very strange in the air”), the chilling percussion that crawls in the second half of the track providing extra tension to Dollanganger’s alien-yet-angelic manipulated vocals, while the quainter strummed acoustic guitar used on Bad Man is accentuated with light string orchestration and raw, untouched singing to make her struggle with still loving someone whose been so brutal to her (“I could tell you that I don't love him / But you know it'd be a lie / Doesn't mean I don't condemn him”). It’s an interesting dichotomy she paints between melancholy heartache and the pain of abuse and her struggles to differentiate between those feelings, Sometime After Midnight placing elegant visions of love (“Thinking of what I'll wear / At the waterfall vanity / Showered and bare”) next to stomach-turning anxiety about the true intentions of the person she’s meeting (“Wondering if I should just ignore it, but / I was told when something bad happens / It's usually at night / And I'm watching the sky turn black”) and back-end highlight Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus using the famous Greek story for her own sorrowful story of the acrid resentment she holds towards someone who promised and failed to give her the love she desired (“I used to think you must be the water I drink / Holding me down in these waters down beneath / Singing to the sound of my screaming /But now I see”), Married in Mount Airy deftly placing all these different feelings next to one another and letting the music help give them their own presence, be it more distorted and psychedelic or modest and delicate. Her writing is as good as it’s ever been, and the conceptualism Dollanganger infuses into the album allows those feelings to unravel in a more natural and cohesive manner than ever before. What seems to fail her, though, is the sound of the music itself, often too misty and ungrounded to give these stories the heaviness and punch they so desperately would have benefited from. Tomasi’s production is by no means bad - the instrumentation is all subtle yet with an anxiety and bleakness to it I absolutely love - but it never has the thickness and strength behind it for the more venomous feelings Dollanganger speaks of to come alive through the music. The reason why tracks like Runnin’ Free and the title track are so spellbinding is through how their wistful instrumentation and sensitive performances match her songwriting’s sense of apprehension and reminiscence, the former’s invoking of “sad teddy bears on the lawn outside” and dogs that keep her “...up with their cries in the night” drifting into the night sky with the help of mid-range piano and 70’s-style heartland rock guitars making for one of the most desolate yet stunning tracks in her discography. For songs with a harsher lyrical bite, this style simply doesn’t cut it, Whispering Glades and Moonlite begging for a swell in the instrumentation or for the rhythmic energy to pick up but stuck sitting in the same ethereal wash of it all, Married in Mount Airy confident in its vision but often held back by the usual trappings of Dollanganger’s music. It’s all good, but rarely does it become more than that. In its full 44 minute runtime, Married in Mount Airy manages to be engaging but pale, a step forward for Dollanganger and her distinctly goth take on folk and slowcore that’s placed in an unusually empty musical environment unable to nurture Dollanganger’s stories to the fullest extent. As interesting as the album can be, it lacks that greater connective tissue to carry the experience from beginning to end, the best songs succeeding for the same reasons many of its weakest tracks fail to make an impact. It’s a balance problem more than any direct issues with Married at Mount Airy’s core themes and stylings, and that above anything proves how strong a storyteller Dollanganger is. Her music might not always match its magic, but her power at delivering dark yet healing narratives prevails nonetheless.

[mattybeachjeans]

Mount Airy Lodge (The GIFs)

[alwaysmychoices]

Ski Resort

Synopsis: After declaring her intention to leave medicine forever, Charlie must join the Diagnostics Team for one more case before Ethan will let her retire. But once they’re trapped in the ski resort, Charlie gets tangled in the mystery, and she begins to wonder if she should really leave medicine or if it’s time to come back.

Chapter 26 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5.5k (sorry, I tried so hard to cut it down)

Rating: Teen

Also available on AO3 & Wattpad (link in Masterlist)

The drive to the ski resort was uncomfortably quiet. Ethan and Charlie didn't speak a word, not even when Baz tried to play car games or entertain the captive group with stories.

No, Ethan and Charlie weren't going to speak – or rather, Ethan wasn't going to speak until Charlie did, and Charlie wasn't going to say a thing.

The fight in Ethan's office had cooled to begrudging acceptance. Despite her objections, Charlie put on her coat, read the patient information, and piled in the car with the rest of the diagnostics team just as Ethan insisted. But her cooperation extended only that far.

Ethan was sure that she was furious in the back seat – so sure that he kept looking back to her in the rearview to see if her expression had soured any further.

But Ethan wasn't right about everything.

Charlie wasn't angry – or if she was, it was secondarily not primarily.

She was anxious.

Anxious to be back at work and interacting with critical patients when her confidence in herself and her skills had never been lower. Anxious to stand on the precipice of her entire future – for if she failed today, she wouldn't be a doctor, and if she didn't, she'd have to face fears buried deep in her soul.

It wasn't that she held her tongue because she would have hurled insults otherwise. She held her tongue because she simply couldn't bear to say anything at all.

June and Baz sensed the discomfort, though they were kind enough to not comment on it. Baz tried his best to lessen the uneasiness with music and diverting conversion, none of which stuck. June was more intrigued, maybe even suspicious.

They'd both been surprised when Charlie joined the expedition after her long absence, but Baz was much more willing to accept the sudden return and be thankful for it. June couldn't shake her curiosity.

After all, why had Charlie suddenly returned from leave for this one case? Why was the relationship between Charlie and Ethan, which had once been friendly, now so tense?

Being scrutinized only made Charlie feel worse.

It was a relief for all parties when they arrived at the ski resort.

Any other day, Charlie would have stopped and marveled at the sight.

Perfect, white snow coated the landscape and the resort. Smoke billowed from the central fireplace, promising warmth and comfort inside. Snow-capped trees climbed Mount Dagger and dotted the landscape. Even with layers and layers of footprints marring the snow and a large resort looming in the background, this place felt serene and untouched somehow.

It was so different from the heat and sunshine Charlie had grown up with.

Part of her wished she could have leaned into Ethan and marveled at the place, letting him tease her for her unfamiliarity and inexperience with snow. She realized that winter had only been pain and survival for them. She had the urge to change that somehow – to throw a snowball or challenge him to make snow angels.

But instead, Charlie just trudged along, keeping the urges to herself and remaining silent.

The owner, Rodney, was a friend of Ethan's. He greeted them all warmly and thanked them for their time. On the way to the patient's room, he offered charming anecdotes about Ethan's childhood and their friendship. Charlie wished she could have engaged more, but it was all becoming too real. In mere moments, she would be a working doctor again – a dream that had become a nightmare.

Paula and her son, Timothy, waited in their hotel room.

In the end, they weren't nearly as frightening as Charlie had imagined them. The entire drive, she morphed her patient experience into that of death and destruction, and she'd forgotten how mundane interactions could really be. Even Paula's defiance and complaints felt tame in the face of all Charlie had been through.

During the initial interview, Charlie didn't resume the active role she'd once had on the team. Instead, it was Ethan who drove the questioning, with June acting as his secondary. The team had found their new rhythm in her absence, and they seemed to know that Charlie was purposefully not stepping into her old shoes.

Ethan was disappointed.

To an outsider, she would have looked like a student rather than a member of the team. She stood in the back of the group, her mouth closed and ideas kept to herself. It could have read as disinterest, though Ethan highly doubted Charlie could confront a mystery and not be enthralled. No, it must have been something else. Anger maybe. Perhaps she wasn't ready, just as she'd warned him in the hospital.

During the interview, Ethan managed to look back at Charlie and examine her without anyone noticing.

And what he found prompted a sigh of relief.

She wasn't disinterested.

Charlie's eyes were bright and alive with curiosity. She was listening attentively, her expression changing slightly with each new piece of information. She must be cataloging it, saving it, and allowing it to simmer until it attached to a theory. Even if she wasn't speaking, she was here. She was part of the team, part of the future solution. He could see it in her now– the passion and empathy he'd recognized in her so early in her intern year.

He found himself hoping it would be enough to make her stay.

Enough to make her realize she wanted to stay.

It distracted him from the interview.

Not that he was missing much anyway. Paula, the patient, was particularly uncooperative. It took considerable prodding – and her son’s insistence – to get Paula to say anything at all.

But Ethan’s attention quickly returned when Paula's behavior suddenly shifted.

June and Baz talking to each other, quietly exposing the confusion amongst the team about Paula's bizarre symptoms. Nothing about the conversation was particularly unusual, but to a distrustful woman like Paula, it was enough to prove incompetence on the team's part.

With an eerie light in her eyes, Paula interrupted to say, "It sounds like you have no idea what you're talking about."

She said it with such airy mirth that the comment was unsettling.

Then, to the horror of everyone in the room, the formerly austere Paula's face split into a wild, frenzied laugh. Her posture had changed – so had her facial expressions. Ethan took a step closer and realized that the disturbing glimmer in her eyes was the dark of her pupil as it dilated.

The team looked at each other in horror and shock.

"Paula, are you feeling alright?" Charlie asked. These were the first unprompted words she'd spoken since the introductions.

"I feel great! Why the hell wouldn't I? I'm stuck on a mountain with a load of incompetent doctors!" Paula's voice dissolved into laughter. It was too loud. Too open. Too long.

The diagnostics team looked to each other, and in a silent consensus, they followed Ethan's lead to the hallway. Once the door closed behind them, they abandoned their polite, neutral expressions to show their true concern.

"It looks like a manic episode. If her brain trauma is extensive enough to cause that…." Ethan trailed off, only for Charlie to finish.

"We need to get her to a hospital as soon as possible. Can we call for a helicopter?"

“Doubtful,” Baz frowned, “During the interview, the storm was upgraded to a blizzard. We wouldn’t have time for a helicopter, and the roads are already being shut down.”

“But we just got here!” Charlie fought it, not that she was sure why she did. The entire drive up, the snow had gotten progressively worse. Even from inside Paula’s room, she could tell the weather was turning.

“Then we’re stuck here,” June announced, ignoring Charlie’s outburst, “We’ll have to monitor Paula all night in case her condition worsens.”

Charlie frowned.

This was not how she wanted her first case back to go.

The patient showed unusual symptoms and potential mania, all while they were trapped in a ski resort by a blizzard? This had death and destruction written all over it.

Had Ethan taken the time to consider it, he would have reached the same dim conclusion.

But fortunately for him, he was more distracted by managing the crisis. With little time before the snow made movement impossible to leave the lodge, Ethan decided to find the source of Paula’s rash on the mountain. Charlie objected on safety grounds, but Ethan went out anyway. In his absence, the team conducted a few tests and settled the room arrangements with Rodney. Ethan returned safely, just a bit cold and damp from the snow, and with the cause of the rash. It was poison sumac, he announced. Unrelated to the other symptoms, unfortunately, but at least they could rule other things out.

Only moments later, the blizzard captured the resort captured the resort and trapped the occupants inside.

To his surprise, Charlie wasn’t impressed by his discovery or his quick return. She was annoyed he’d gone out in the first place. And he suspected she was irritated to be here at all.

He wondered if he was pushing her too far, if his plan to show her the best parts of their job had been flawed. If he had been flawed.

If he was doing more harm than good.

Then June pulled out the hotel keys to present them to everyone.

There were four.

The extra room key stung.

It shouldn’t have.

Of course, they couldn’t stay in the same room on a work trip. He shouldn’t have expected anything different.

But something about it made him feel… distant from her.

Like he’d created a wall between them in this whole endeavor, a wall made physical by the separate rooms. Though he’d done it thousands of nights before, Ethan suddenly couldn’t imagine sleeping without her, her body warm beside him and her fragrant curls straying to his side of the bed. He wanted her to forgive him, though he wasn’t sure what for.

In an ideal world, they would have talked about it.

He would have checked on her.

But instead, in a whirlwind of arrangements and discussions, Ethan began his shift, and Charlie followed Baz and June to find their rooms.

Charlie hadn’t planned on staying, so she had nothing to unpack except for a phone charger from her purse and a laptop borrowed from Edenbrook. She didn’t relish the idea of sleeping in her bulky jeans or shivering in the cold night, but there was nothing she could do about that in a blizzard.

It was a relief to warm herself in a hot shower, but after, the room felt too lonely. Unsure what to do with herself, she searched for Baz and June. She found them both at the bar, which fortunately hadn’t been affected by the outside storm.

They sat by the fire with medical journals and drinks – and smores, in Baz’s case. When Charlie entered, they gave her their full attention.

They were genuinely happy to see her return.

They still believed in her, it seemed.

Not that she should be surprised, she reminded herself.

But she was a little.

She’d forgotten how it felt to be the prodigy, not the shattered impersonation of one.

Baz couldn’t contain his excitement and even went as far as to buy her bourbon in celebration, “I’m so happy you’re back! We’ve missed you, Charlie. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“He tells the truth,” June confirmed, looking a little amused with her colleague’s enthusiasm.

Charlie didn’t know what to say, so she blushed and let Baz fill in the silence – not that he noticed. He had lots to say.

“To our star resident! You’ve been through hell and back, and we’re so proud of how far you’ve come. For you to have survived that and stand here ready to be a doctor again is brave, Charlie,” Baz emphasized in his toast, oblivious to the fact he was only making Charlie more nervous.

Charlie weakly raised her glass, tapping it against June’s and Baz’s.

June’s eyes settled on Charlie’s unsteady smile.

Which only made Charlie more unsteady.

“I can’t believe you’re really back and that Ethan didn’t even give us a warning! For weeks, he said you needed more time, and then, he surprised us. You two were probably in on it together,” Baz laughed good-naturedly, “So, are you back permanently now?”

I have no idea, she thought.

She didn’t know if she’d make it through this case, let alone if she’d take on another.

Her future was too uncertain, her confidence too shaken to answer.

“Um,” Charlie stammered, looking for an answer that didn’t expose her as a nervous wreck, “We’ll see how it works out with my remaining leave, I guess,” she answered noncommittally.

It was the wrong answer.

Too uncommitted. Not enough enthusiasm. Recognizable nerves.

It exposed something that Charlie wanted to hide. It showed how little she controlled this situation, how little she controlled everything. She didn’t know what would happen or what she wanted to happen. It was such a stark contrast from the determined, headstrong intern she’d once been.

If Baz noticed, he took it in stride and said he hoped she would be back full time soon. Then, he started telling her about all she’d missed – leaving out Levi, of course.

June noticed, though.

She sensed Charlie’s unease, and as a result, she stared. And studied.

Charlie became increasingly uncomfortable as the subject of June’s fascination. She felt like she might crack, like June would see through her if she was given enough time.

She began to feel like an imposter trying to fill her old role, and the deception of it all made her sick.

Charlie couldn’t stay for the rest of the evening, not if she was going to survive the night.

So, Charlie finished her bourbon a little too quickly, and to Baz’s disappointment, she excused herself to review online journals on her laptop. June wasn’t surprised she was leaving, though she politely said goodnight anyway.

Maybe June suspected Charlie’s weakness all along.

Maybe she was the smart one. Maybe she saw the truth that Ethan and Baz couldn’t – that Charlie was irreparably broken.

Even with the distance of a few floors separating them, Charlie felt haunted by the exchange – and maybe even still watched by June.

Charlie wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be the old star resident again, though she wondered if she had it in her.

The research proved fascinating, though research had never been a problem for Charlie. She loved learning, and she was always captivated by cases like this. Still, Paula’s case was an enigma, and Charlie went between journals, online textbooks, and her own observations over and over until her eyes burned. When she couldn’t focus anymore, she decided to take a walk and check on Paula. With any luck, she’d gain valuable information through questioning or observation. Even if learned nothing, it would be nice to see Ethan, someone who knew about her trauma and still believed in her enough to bring her here.

Charlie was halfway to Paula’s room when she spotted a familiar face.

“Timothy?” Charlie called out.

Timothy, the patient’s son, stopped mid-stride in shock. He probably didn’t think that anyone else in this hotel knew him.

“I’m one of your mom’s doctors,” Charlie explained quickly, hoping to put him at ease.

It worked. Timothy relaxed a bit, though he remained rigid enough to protect the cup of herbal tea he was carrying. Another mug for his mom, Charlie suspected. She worried that this meant her symptoms were getting worse.

“I’m on your way to your mother’s room. Do you mind if I walk with you?” Charlie asked. During the interview, Timothy had been more forthcoming than his mother, and if Paula became more uncooperative, he would be their only hope. And she worried for the boy. It had to be scary to watch something like this happen to your mother.

Timothy agreed, and they walked together quietly. After a few quiet moments, Charlie commented, “That’s very sweet of you to bring your mother some tea. You’ve been a very good caretaker, Timothy. That’s brave of you, and I want you to know you��re doing a good job, though you should also take care of yourself tonight.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m used to it,” Timothy said sheepishly, looking into the cup of tea with a shy smile.

Charlie’s interest was piqued.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just mom and me at home, so I take care of her.”

“What do you take care of, Timothy?”

Timothy frowned like he’d said something wrong.

“We’re here to help,” Charlie assured him, “So if she has a condition you’ve been helping her with, it’s okay. Just let us know. It may be interacting with or causing her current ailment.”

Timothy looked at Charlie thoughtfully. Almost too thoughtfully.

Charlie was sure there was something he wanted to tell her, or at least something he should tell her.

But all he said was, “It’s nothing really. We’re doing better now.”

Better from what? she thought.

Timothy suddenly looked down and frowned further.

“Is something wrong?”

“I forgot my bag in the lobby when I went to make the tea….”

“I can go get it for you.”

“No,” Timothy insisted too quickly.

Charlie was startled.

“Well, I can bring the tea if you want….” Charlie offered, her voice soft.

“She wouldn’t take it from you,” Timothy shook his head, his eyes softer now. Almost like he was apologetic for his mom’s violent dislike of doctors.

Charlie didn’t want to let Timothy go, especially when he was clearly hiding something, but he insisted she go ahead to the room without him. Not wanting to alienate him, Charlie reluctantly complied.

Once Charlie was in Paula’s room, she almost forgot about her strange encounter with Timothy. The change in Paula was drastic. Her boisterous laughter had faded into dreary silence. She laid in the bed silent and unmoving, her face blank and cold. Even the room felt darker, like all of the energy had been drained as depression gripped the primary occupant.

Ethan was stationed in the corner of the room, and he greeted Charlie with a silent nod.

“How long has this been going on?” Charlie whispered as she approached.

“About an hour,” Ethan frowned.

“I ran into the son in the hallway. I think there’s a preexisting condition they’re hiding from us,” Charlie lowered her voice even further to keep from being heard.

“Hmm,” Ethan raised his eyebrows with intrigue.

“I’m working on it,” she assured him.

Before they could talk any further, Timothy entered with a cup of tea and a bookbag in tow. He dropped the bag by the door, letting it slouch near Ethan and Charlie as he rushed to his mother’s side to deliver the tea. His bag’s zipper was half-undone, revealing some of the contents.

Charlie couldn’t help but look.

A notebook. Headphones. Pencils and pens. What looked like a few pages of math homework. Teabags, presumably from the herbal tea.

All normal stuff for a high schooler.

Still, she tilted her head just a bit more.

Some socks. A bag of –

A bag of pills.

Charlie’s head jerked to attention.

Why would he have a bag of pills? Was he abusing them?

Charlie was about to elbow Ethan and draw his attention to it when Timothy returned for the bag, zipping it back up and slinging it over his shoulder. If he noticed her stare, he didn’t let on.

Everything that was said after that was a blur. Charlie was wracking her brain trying to mentally identify the pill, but she didn’t recognize it. If only she knew what it was, maybe she could help.

When June arrived to take her shift, Charlie took it as her opportunity to return to her room to research medications commonly used or abused by teenagers.

Ethan, oblivious to her new mission, was disappointed by how quickly she ran away. He’d been excited when she came to check on Paula. He thought she was getting back into medicine, but now she was running away from it – and him.

He’d hoped to talk to her once he was off duty.

But Charlie didn’t even realize she’d slighted him.

She spent the next forty-five minutes trying to find a match for the pill.

Nothing jumped out at her. The pill she saw didn’t seem to be commonly abused, nor was it coming up in her research. Could it be a regular vitamin? If so, why would he have it in a bag? Or was it a street drug not listed in these databases?

Without interruption, she might have spent the whole night in this fruitless search.

She was lucky Ethan knocked on the door.

Knock. Knock.

Her train of thought was rudely interrupted, she thought, and she was reluctant to abandon her computer and greet the intruder. Had there not been a patient, she might have been annoyed enough to wait for a second knock.

When she saw Ethan, her mind went back to that room – to Paula.

She forgot that there was any other reason he might be coming to see her.

Like the fact that this was her first time back to work or that he was her boyfriend.

“Are Paula and Timothy alright?” Charlie blurted out, skipping introductions as she assumed the worst.

“Oh…” Ethan was a little knocked back, “Yes. They’re fine.”

“Oh,” Charlie was relieved but now a bit confused.

He stared at her.

Didn’t she understand why he was here? Why wasn’t she inviting him inside?

For a second, she’d gotten so into her job that she’d forgotten everything else – even how much her job terrified her.

“I came to check on you,” Ethan announced finally.

This jolted Charlie’s memory, and she quickly moved back from the door, letting him enter.

Her room was smaller than his, he noted. He found himself hoping she wouldn’t sleep in it tonight. He wanted her by his side. He wanted the assurance that he hadn’t lost her by pushing her too hard.

“How are you doing?” Ethan asked as he crossed the room, silently appraising her living arrangements. By the state of the crumbled comforter, it looked like she’d been researching on her laptop for most of the night.

“Alright, I guess” Charlie murmured, a little unsure of herself.

Their case was an enigma, and their patient was rapidly detreating in a blizzard. A teen had mystery pills in his backpack. June was now studying her. All day, Charlie had been teetering between genuine passion for her job and the feeling of insufficiently filling her old role.

How well could she really be doing?

But she also couldn’t say that she was miserable. She wasn’t as sure of her decision to leave as she had been this morning, nor was she convinced that medicine was all death and destruction.

The best way to describe Charlie was unsteady. Unsure, even.

She just had to survive this case.

Ethan, unsatisfied with her answer, awkwardly paced her small hotel room. She watched.

Finally, he turned to her, and finding the courage to say the words he’d prepared for the last hour, he said, “I’ve been thinking, and I wanted to apologize. I pushed you a lot today. At the time, I thought it was right. In fact, I still think it was right, but… it wasn’t fair.”

Charlie couldn’t believe Ethan was apologizing. Any other day, she might have even gloated. But today, she squirmed, equally unnerved by the situation. Maybe even more so.

Ethan waited for her response, trying so hard to be patient but failing miserably. He couldn’t fathom that he might have misjudged her limits and ruined everything.

It felt like an eternity before she spoke.

“It’s okay… I needed to come back before I decided. Maybe not so abruptly but…” Charlie trailed off, the edge of a smile on her lips. There was a glint in her eyes, and he realized she was poking fun at him.

He was relieved.

“You’ve done really well today,” Ethan ventured, “I’m proud of you.”

Charlie shook her head sheepishly, “I barely spoke.”

“But you were listening.”

“You can’t pretend I’m the same as I was.”

“You don’t have to be the same to be a good doctor, Charlie.”

Charlie bit her lower lip as she averted her gaze.

He took that as an invitation to be bolder, “I think you should come back permanently.”

“What?” Charlie’s eyes shot back to him, the shock in her eyes verging on indignation.

“The team agrees. It’s time, Charlie,” Ethan knew he was stuck now. He couldn’t take it back or soothe the storm that was brewing.

“You spoke to the team?” her gaze grew harder.

“I wanted you to know that you had full faith in you!” Ethan explained.

“June’s already watching me like there’s something wrong with me! Now you’ve just given her more reason to study me,” Charlie shook her head, frustration rising through her veins, “Why would you do that before talking to me?”

“You need to know that we believe in you, Charlotte,” Ethan said quite defensively, “We want you on the team.”

“I haven’t even made it through this case. What makes you think I’m ready to take on another?”

“Because you’re you. You’re not even out of residency yet, and you’re pulling your weight among experts. You’re discovering preexisting conditions none of us ever knew about-“

“Of which we have no proof!” Charlie interrupted.

“You’re still closer to an answer than any of us are,” Ethan said firmly, “And even when you’re scared, like you are now, you still care. You’re a good doctor. Great, even. You’ll be better than me one day. But you’re giving up-“

“Giving up?” Charlie repeated incredulously, “That’s what you think I’m doing?”

“You have a gift!”

“I almost died,” Charlie emphasized, “Every time a patient comes in with a mystery illness and no hope, I know what that feels like. I relive the worst day of my life through their eyes, and I know I can’t save them all. And you think I’m just giving up?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Charlie,” Ethan said, suddenly ashamed, “I’m trying to help you. I love you, and I know you love medicine. I don’t want you to lose that because of a premature decision.”

“So, you think you’re helping me by making me do what I don’t want?”

Ethan frowned, “When it feels like it’s for the best, yes… But it’ll get better.”

Charlie paused.

And then something clicked.

And the fight – and Ethan’s dumb words – were forgotten.

“Wait,” she mumbled, “Making me do what I don’t want…”

“Yes, I know, and I’m sorry. But I really am trying to help,” Ethan tried, oblivious to the shift in Charlie’s mind.

She ignored him, rushing to her computer.

“What are you doing?” Ethan asked incredulously, watching as she frantically typed something into her computer. Again, she ignored him.

Her eyes the screen until they landed on the pill she’d seen in Timothy’s bag.

“I know what’s wrong with Paula.”

Ethan dropped his defensive stance and rushed to her side, hoping he’d understand by looking at her screen. But all he saw was a medication.

“There’s a bag of lithium in Timothy’s backpack. He said he’s been taking care of her for a long time but that she got better recently. I think he’s drugging her with this.”

“Her mood swings…” Ethan’s jaw almost dropped.

“He’s probably been trying to treat her for bipolar disorder on his own. You saw how she was with doctors. I doubt she would have gone in for treatment,” Charlie felt a knot form in her stomach. Even though she was sure of her hypothesis, she hoped it wasn’t true.

“And they gave her ibuprofen to treat her head injury,” Ethan swallowed heavily.

“We have to get her to a hospital.”

“And talk to Timothy.”

As if reading each other’s minds, they abandoned the laptop in Charlie’s room and raced to Paula’s room where they found Timothy waiting by his sleeping mother, looking exhausted but sleepless with worry.

Unfortunately, Charlie’s theory was correct.

Timothy confessed, and Charlie’s heart broke as they explained the repercussions of his actions as well as the severity of what he had done wrong. She felt for him, for what he must have gone through to think such action was necessary. But she couldn’t excuse his decision to medicate her without her consent, especially given the consequences. The lithium and ibuprofen combined to form a disastrous chain reaction, one that lasted even after they discovered the cause.

It took hours for the storm to clear enough for the helicopters to take Paula to the hospital.

While they waited, Charlie and Ethan sat in his room – a romantic suite with a view of the snowy mountains. It felt like a waste now. A romantic night they could have had, if Charlie hadn’t solved such a sad mystery. She was tired, though she wouldn’t admit it. At some point, she drifted to sleep, and Ethan held her, his fingers running through her hair as he kissed her temple and quietly congratulated her on her solve.

“I always knew you’d be the one to solve it,” he whispered.

“Why?” she murmured, “Were you holding back?”

“No, because you’re smarter than me,” he chuckled.

Charlie was smiling when she fell asleep.

When she woke up, the mood had shifted back to panic.

The helicopter on its way, and the team needed to follow. June and Baz took the helicopter with Paula and Timothy, and Ethan and Charlie drove the car back once the roads opened. The team called a few times to share updates and ask for advice.

But for most of the drive, Ethan held Charlie’s hand in silence.

The case was over.

She could back to her life in the apartment where she hid from the world and pushed herself just a little day by day, building her tolerance safely. She could tell Ethan he was wrong. Or she could stay.

And the truth was… she couldn’t imagine going back now.

Not now that she remembered what it was like on the good days – ones where she made the solve and saved the day. Ones where she realized she made a difference, that she solved things other people couldn’t.

It was okay to be scared.

Even as the words were on the tip of her tongue, she was terrified.

“My answer is yes.”

Ethan’s eyes momentarily drifted from the road to her, “What?”

“To your question last night. I want to come back permanently.”

Ethan felt like he could crash the car out of pure shock.

“Are you sure?”

“I mean… not really. I’m scared, but I think it’s time,” Charlie nodded her head, trying to project the confidence she wanted to once more possess.

“We can wait for you if you need more time,” Ethan assured her, struggling to keep his eyes on the highway and not right at her.

“I know,” Charlie confirmed, “But now is the time. I can’t retire, and I can’t wait forever to go back. I’ll never be 100% ready, so I just have to jump in.”

Ethan’s heart was beating so fast that Charlie felt it as she held his hand.

“Are you really, really sure?” Ethan clarified just one more time.

“Yes,” Charlie laughed, a smile lingering on her lips.

He looked at her. Briefly, of course. He was driving, after all.

And then his face broke out in a face-splitting grin.

“I’m so proud of you, Rookie,” he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “You’re amazing! I love you! I love you so much.”

His happiness was infectious. So infectious that she forgot about the fear.

And she laughed.

“You haven’t called me Rookie in a long time,” she squeezed his hand softly, and he cast a sideways glance at her.

“Do you still like being called Rookie?”

“Yes,” she smiled so warmly it practically radiated off of her.

And he loved her. He really did.

“Well then, I love you, Rookie,” he smirked, “And I owe you a romantic ski vacation.”

“Bold of you to assume I know how to ski.”

“And I owe you ski lessons, I suppose,” he murmured affectionately.

“You also owe me a kiss when we stop this car,” Charlie added.

He looked over at her – and quite recklessly because they were doctors and knew what could happen when young lovers were stupid on highways – he kissed her. Quickly, of course. Softly. But lovingly.

And even if she regretted it tomorrow and the world caved again, she was glad she was back today.

[the-gone-ton]

Beautiful Mount Airy Lodge

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Sunning and Water Sports in the Majestic Roman Pool at POCONO GARDENS LODGE Cresco, Pa. 18326 America's Most Unique Honeymoon Estate

Mount Airy Lodge was not the first resort in the Pocono Mountains to define itself as a destination for honeymooners and young couples, but it sure liked to think of itself as the best one. Just about 90 minutes from New York City and Philadelphia, the Poconos were the honeymoon capital of the east coast, where city dwellers could find a little slice of heaven in the mountains. Billing itself as the Beautiful Mount Airy Lodge in ubiquitous advertising campaigns, the resort was arguably the crown jewel of the Pocono Mountains tourism industry for decades. The all-inclusive resort offered lovers skiing, horseback riding, huge outdoor pool, golf course, two ice skating rinks, live big-name entertainment and of course a luxurious and sexually-daring room including heart-shaped whirlpool bathtubs. The resort's shrewd owner, Czechoslovak immigrant Emil Wagner, built up an aura of mysticality around the resort by using hyperbole to promote it - for example, employees were asked to describe the gourmet food as "epicurean delights" to better entice visitors. Eventually, Mount Airy became too grand to be contained within its own property lines, and it purchased two neighboring resorts - Strickland's Mountain Inn and the Pocono Gardens Lodge.

But expansion came at a price, and debt hung heavy upon the shoulders of the vaunted Mount Airy Lodge. On top of that, the whole Pocono resort industry was feeling the pressure of more affordable flights and cruises drawing couples away. In the 90s, complaints of disrepair on the premises became frequent. The furniture was worn and dirty, the bed linens weren't being properly cleaned, the pool wasn't being maintained, and customer service became poor. Workers joked that the "epicurean delights" served at Mount Airy's dining room now included powdered eggs and expired food. By 1999, Mount Airy owed some $46 million in unsecured debt. Emil Wagner was facing foreclosure. Unable to bear his resort being taken from him, a 77 year old Wagner committed suicide. The resort declared bankruptcy and was sold at a sheriff's sale. Pocono Associates, one of the resort's creditors, assumed ownership in 2000 and assessed that two-thirds of the resort's rooms were not suitable to rent. As a result, 650 out of the resort's 900 rooms were permanently sealed - including the outright closure of Mount Airy's sister resorts, Strickland's and Pocono Gardens. Pocono Associates spent a year and no small sum of cash trying to repair both the physical condition of the resort and its tarnished reputation, but could not succeed on either front. Mount Airy Lodge closed its doors for the last time in October, 2001.