FicWad

A/N: So, really, I had this written along with all my other oneshots, I just didn't put it up because I wanted to wait until it was actually closer to New Year's. But now it's New Year's Day, and I can put it up! Yay!


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Fifty-Two: New Year's Special
Puppet: Keefe O'Kane


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When I was a kid, I never really understood what all the fuss over new things was about.

Everything would dissolve over time, anyway. The brand new action figure I got for Christmas would probably be broken by next year, and being excited over it would make me even more clumsy with it. The neat little gadget that was 'in' now would be replaced by a better one within a couple of months, and spending all my money on either of them would've been stupid. Similarly, the latest story out there on the news would only be the latest for so long, until something even more exciting came around.

Life, too, would become nothing, just like everything else. One could fuss and fret over the new baby born on New Year's Eve all they wanted. They were never going to change the fact that in roughly seventy years or so, that baby would be old and close to dying. Nor could they change the fact that, unless he or she did some amazing thing in their life, they would eventually be nothing but a whispering echo; indistinguishable among all the others gone before them.

Yeah, I made that conclusion when I was a kid around twelve. I didn't do myself any favors then.

That's what people didn't seem to understand. They thought I was being unnecessarily harsh with them when I say things like that, but what they fail to comprehend is that I'm just as cruel to myself as I was to them. I just didn't really want to show that in fear of slipping into a state of constant self-pity. I hated it when people did that, and thankfully had the strength to not become one of the things I hate the most.

New Year's was highly misunderstood, I thought. Sure, the public opinion on it wasn't a horrible mincing of meaning as it was with Christmas, but I still didn't think many people got it.

Perhaps I just have a bias against the day when getting drunk is most acceptable, what with my step-father and all, but I couldn't help but think that maybe too many folks saw it as a day (or night) to get wasted. Get wasted and make a lot of unnecessary noise. Get wasted, make a lot of unnecessary noise, and welcome the new year in with a hangover the next day.

But I guess I only grew myself an opinion after I came to appreciate the concept of New Year's later (though not too much) on in my life. I, now a twenty-one-year-old young man, had come to recognize the big idea behind welcoming in the new year.

The action figure wasn't broken then; it was still in one piece and fun to play with as it'd ever be. The gadget wasn't outdated then; it was still in the spotlight and interesting as it'd ever be. The latest story wasn't old news then; it was still making headlines and as good a read as it'd ever be. The baby wasn't old and dying then; it was still young and innocent as they'd ever be.

It was about appreciating the new things while they were still pure, still untainted by the works of the world and time itself. It was about tossing out the old, broken things weighing us down on this walk of life and getting a new, much lighter burden.

One mustn't think of how heavy it would be on December 31st next year; that would automatically become an ungodly amount of weight.

I wasn't about to do that to myself.

And besides; what was there to complain about? I had a new life and job on Black Jack, a new love in Casey Thane, and a new outlook on life. I was more then ready to push last year out of my mind and focus on the next one; the one I was going to spend with Casey.

Speaking of her and all things Black Jack...

The Thanes, as they always did traditionally, were having a party to which all hands and their families were invited. Of course, Jack couldn't have a New Year's Eve event without any beer, and I couldn't help but cringe away from it. I wasn't really afraid of alcohol; I'd just seen it at its worst and didn't want to see it again. Not if I could help it.

So like a panther slipping soundlessly through the night, I prowled outside and found a refuge in the bed of the truck that I'd traded my ordinary car for about a month ago. The Chevy 100 was old and a proverbial rust bucket, but it got the job done.

I sat back, my hands folded behind my head and knuckles on the back windshield, one leg curled up and the other laying flat against the truck bed. It was more comfortable than I thought it'd be thanks to the blanket I'd found and laid out, and I found myself relishing the moment the way I'd never thought I would when I lived in the city. It was quiet out here. Peaceful. Serene.

That is, until a whoop of laughter erupted from inside.

I opened one eye (for I'd closed them) and glanced at the house, an amused, wry smile tugging at the corners of my lips. I really didn't mind that I was alone and that I was missing out on the 'fun,' but I couldn't help but wish that maybe I'd gone home. I'd missed Christmas with my family, and even though I really didn't do well with all the company, it seemed...wrong that this was the second holiday that I'd missed.

Was Mac relaxing on the couch, his pretty Paige curled up beside him as they watched movies, waiting for the ball to drop so they could have one more excuse to kiss? Was my mom actually laughing the way she used to while talking to my grandfather, who'd come all the way from Ireland to be with us? Was my grandmother in the kitchen making some cookies that Mac would undoubtedly scarf down the second her back was turned?

I scowled lightly at the next thought. Two years ago to the day, my step-father had slugged down one to many beers (again) and had nearly killed Mac. Luckily Paige (who, in her curiosity, followed a suspiciously acting Mac home and saw the whole thing) had had the sense to call the police, who came and took him away. He never bothered us again, having been thrown in jail. Of course, he didn't have the means to get drunk now...

But I still wondered. Was he thinking about the damage he'd caused his innocent step-son?

I closed my eyes again, willing those thoughts away with a snarl that probably found its way onto my face. I didn't need to think about that. Not now.

It was chilly outside, I realized. I was glad for the warm, soft fleece jacket Casey had given me for Christmas, now draped over my shoulders and shielding me from the cold snow. I peeked open one eye again, this time hearing the front door open and shut.

“Keefe!”

Though it was my natural instinct to answer to anyone who called my name, I was stronger than that. It was a woman's voice, pinched with worry but strong for the most part. I ducked down farther, out of sight and hoping to stay that way. I didn't want to go back inside, so maybe if I didn't reply they would think I'd gone back to my room.

“Keefe!” The voice came again, a little closer this time. It was only then that I recognized the voice as Casey's, and only then did I remember that my truck was probably the first place she'd look.

So much for hiding. I thought with a wry smile. I knew I was going to be caught sooner or later, but I wasn't going to just let her find me.

“Keefe Finn O'Kane!” she barked out my full name, her crunching footsteps coming closer and closer and her voice getting louder and louder, “I know you're out here somewhere! You leave footprints just like the rest of us!”

I hadn't thought of that, either. But I didn't have to just lay low, did I?

By listening to her footsteps I calculated the distance she had to be at, waiting patiently as she drew closer and closer. Then, when she was right on top of me, I shot up onto my knees and hung over the side, fingers held like claws and teeth bared like I was some sort of werewolf. “Boo!”

Casey, who was up close and right where I thought she'd be, jumped back with a squeal of surprise, like I'd expected. What I hadn't expected, however, was the heel of her boot to slip on a patch of ice. With a yelp of dark surprise she fell flat on her back into the snow, where she lay still, stunned, for a little longer than I would've liked.

“Casey?” I asked tentatively, fearing that she was hurt. Had it been earlier in the week, when the snow was fresh and powdery, I wouldn't have thought much of it. But now, the snow was old and crusted with globs of ice in it. I climbed out of the truck, cursing myself for scaring her like that. “Casey, are you okay?”

She didn't move. With a twitch of annoyance I realized that she was faking. But the irritation quickly faded and I found myself smirking with a plan of my own. “Oh no, Casey!” I cried, not bothering to make it sound like I was trying. I knelt down beside her and scooped her up into my arms, glad for the fact she wasn't heavy.

“C'mon, Case, wake up!” I pleaded, imagining how I would act if I really did feel like I'd lost her, “What am I gonna tell your dad? 'She saw a werewolf and had a heart attack, sir!'”

I'd have to be blind to not see the smile trying desperately to grace her lips, but I kept acting it up, glad to have human contact without a million other people around. I climbed back into the truck bed, glad I'd kept the tailgate down, and held her still while on my knees. “Don't go!” I begged in mock hysteria, “Then no one will play cowboys and Indians with me anymore!”

She couldn't hold it in any longer. She started giggling like a little school girl, her shoulders trembling against my hand with the force of it all.

I laughed too, nuzzling affectionately at her cheek, loving the way her warm breath felt against my cold skin. “She lives!” I exclaimed in an excited whisper. Despite myself, I could feel my act starting to slip; I could only do it for so long until it got old, and it was started to get a little stale already. I wasn't really the joker type.

“Just barely!” she managed to say through her laughter, “You nearly did give me a heart attack, jumpin' out of nowhere like that!”

“All part of my diabolical scheme,” I said matter of factly, “the only part I didn't plan on was the ice.”

“Oh, that...” Casey squirmed a little against my hold and I put her down, not willing to fight with her about a silly thing like that, “there wasn't really any ice, you know.”

I blinked. What had caused her to fall, then? Surely she hadn't been faking the whole thing. “What?”

She laughed nervously, brushing some snow off her pants. “There wasn't really any ice,” she repeated, “I just kind of...tripped and made it look like there was.”

I chuckled, nuzzling her a second time. She had never been a very graceful girl, and that actually made more sense than the ice. “That's my Casey,” I murmured, sobering up a little and becoming more interested in her than her laughter, “the girl with the two left feet.”

“You're one to talk!” she shot back, pushing a pair of firm hands against my chest in playful tomboyish bullying and denying my need to be closer, “If I recall correctly, you're the one who had to hold on to me when we went ice skating yesterday.”

“An act,” I dismissed it with a wave of my hand, “I only wanted an excuse to be close to you.”

Fake as it sounded, it was true. I hadn't liked the way the other boys, locals and tourists alike, had been looking at her and had needed a subtle way to show them she was mine and mine alone. I had been willing to sacrifice my dignity and honesty, pretending to be a bumbling fool when I could easily get along on my own. She was worth it.

“Why are ya' out here?” Casey asked, changing the subject, “The party's in there.”

I shrugged and leaned back against the side panel, curling my knees up halfway to my chest. “I know,” I answered coolly, “it's just that Bryce and Shiloh...”

“Are so drunk they can't stand?”

They weren't that bad when I left, and that statement only made me feel better about leaving. “Yeah,” I admitted, feeling a blush of shame even though I was justified in my temperance, “I didn't want to be a part of that.”

There was an awkward silence. She knew why, but I couldn't help but feel like maybe she thought a little less of me. If a man, a young one especially, didn't drink some sort of liquor, there had to be something wrong with him. “That's what I like about you, Keefe,” the sapphire-eyed cowgirl said finally with a slight tip of her head, “you've got the courage to be the black sheep.”

I glanced at her, surprised as well as pleased that she'd accepted the fact that I cringed at the sight of beer. A smile slipped across my mouth and she smiled back, but nothing was said between us; there didn't need to be.

“Plus,” Casey said after a long pause, inching a little closer with a half-smile, “it's nice being able to kiss a guy without having to taste the Coors he's been drinkin'.”

I grinned and tauntingly pushed her back, wanting the kiss but deciding it would be more fun to make her wait for it. “Ah, ah, ah,” I scolded softly, waving my finger in her face like I was chiding a dog, “you've gotta wait 'till midnight.”

She slid back with the worst puppy dog pout I'd seen in a while. “That's not too long from now,” she pointed out indignantly, “only a couple of minutes when I left. That's why I came out lookin' for ya'.”

“Really?” I asked, both because I was drawing things out on purpose and because I was surprised. I glanced up at the sky and, sure enough, the moon was hung high and the dimmest of stars twinkled brightly, aided by the relative blackness.

“I guess it is,” I said decisively, looking back down at her with a flirtatious smile, “and I guess I'm just wasting valuable time, huh?”

Once more, silence spoke much, much louder than words. She leaned in a little more, her head tilted at an angle that made a kiss attainable despite her awkward position beside me. Her fingers, warm and familiar against the cold night air, brushed against my cheek bone. She was so slow as she drifted closer and closer, her breath hot as my hands found her cheeks. I smiled and closed my eyes, closing the gap between us with an eager kiss.

I wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pressed her to my chest, while my other hand came to stroke her cheek. Lips parted and I brushed the tip of my tongue briefly against hers, only to be challenged to a brazen duel. I chuckled through my nose and paid dearly for it; it was hard to breath, hard to think, hard to do anything but kiss and be kissed.

Which was why it was so surprising when a great crash sounded from inside the house, accompanied by excited whoops as all but two at Black Jack welcomed in the new year. Both of us jumped apart, eyes wide at the thought of possible discovery before realizing that it was contained.

It took us a moment to realize what had just happened. But, when we did, we exchanged a glance and started laughing. Casey tossed her arms around my neck and I snaked my hands around her midsection, giggles bubbling past our lips. “Happy New Year, O'Kane.” She chortled.

I didn't say anything. Instead, I placed a featherlight kiss on her cheek, a smile in place. This was perfect. A new year, a clean slate...starting in my love's arms. How much better could it be?

“Hey, Case?” I murmured after a moment, managing to drag myself out of my trance.

“Yeah, babe?”

I faked a pout. “Why haven't you told me you love me all year?”


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A/N: Hehehehe. I, personally, think that last line is pretty dang clever. If you don't quite get it, this is how it works: it just recently turned a new year and, though it's only been new for a couple of seconds, Casey technically hasn't said anything the entire year.