"I could fake my own death," Elliot said.

Elliot sat with her legs propped up on the table, her arms crossed. Cece stared at her from the other side, a mug clenched in her hands.

"Do we really have that much time?" Cece asked.

Elliot made a face and waved away her previous statement.

"We could say I was killed by a tommy gun in a drive by," she said.

"Because you are now a 1940s mobster," Cece said.

"I got called away to excavate a burial site in Egypt."

"I'm so proud of you becoming archaeologist."

"I'm guiding a group of people across the Sahara," Elliot said.

"Can I see your caravan license?"

"I'm sneaking a group of innocent teenagers, who have been framed for murder, across the Canadian boarder."

"I still think they are guilty."

"I have to defuse a bomb in the Pentagon."

Cece gave her a questioning look.

"Do you really?" she asked. "Technically if it went off, no one could pin it on us."

Elliot let out a sigh, a scowl touching her expression.

"You ever wonder if normal people come up with as many lists as we do?" she asked.

"I don't hang around normal people. I'm afraid their normalcy will be contagious."

"I guess it comes from being writers," Elliot mused. "I'm guessing they come up with more realistic ideas on how to avoid situations."

"What are you saying?" Cece asked, sounding offended. "I thought your ideas were brilliant. The caravan one especially. If you're worried about the license I have one in my wallet. We look enough alike no one should be able to spot the difference."

Elliot's head fell back, as a frustrated groan escaped.

"I don't want to go today," she said. "I don't want to have to face Beck."

"El, you'll be fine. Just ignore him."

"I should ignore my co-author?"

"Yes."

"Right, should work splendidly!"

Elliot pulled her feet off the table and stood.

"Wish me luck," she said. "I leave to fight dragons and face giants."

"I still say walking through The Common is not that dangerous for me. I wonder what I'm doing wrong?"

Elliot took a deep breath in and opened the door to the office. Beck was already sitting at the couch, bent over the coffee table, littered with index cards. He looked up as she entered, his face unreadable. For the length of a heart beat they just stared at each other. Elliot shut the door, breaking the tension. Tossing her purse on the couch, she moved to the kitchenette. The room was silent as she poured herself a cup of coffee and moved to the couch opposite Beck.

"What are you working on?" Elliot asked.

Beck looked up from the index cards.

"I'm not sure if Weston would really fall for Tess," Beck said.

Elliot frowned.

"I thought we went over this already?" she said. "We made it so they would clash at first, then eventually get together. What doesn't work?"

Beck leaned back on the couch, his arms crossed.

"I'm not sure Weston has the personality that would mesh with Tess at all. Tess is a dynamic character with a good many flaws. I'm just rethinking whether or not Weston would really be able to handle her."

Elliot fought back a scowl.

"Okay, but Weston brings his own challenges. He is arrogant and has a tendency to force his opinion on people. Tess has to put up with him."

Beck met her gaze with a leveled look.

"So we have a problem," he said.

"It appears so."

"Where do we go then?"

Elliot crossed her arms, mimicking Beck's passivity.

"We could change Weston's personalty," she said. "Tone back his arrogance."

"We could. Or we could make Tess less of an explosive character."

Elliot raised an eyebrow.

"You think she's explosive?"

Beck shrugged.

"She has the tendency to jump too fast to being defensive," he said.

"She's defensive when Weston accuses her of being something she's not. When he thinks he knows her, when he in fact does not. Besides, why make Tess change? Weston can as easily change."

"With Weston's back story it makes sense that he would be the way he is."

"Same goes for Tess."

They stared at each other. The voice of the clock ticked on, as the moment kept building. Eventually, Elliot let out an annoyed breath.

"We can't sit here forever staring at each other," she said. "It looks like we have two options then. We can rewrite Weston and Tess's back stories. Or we find a way to make them get along."

"I would agree," Beck said.

Another stretch of silence filled the space between them. Beck ran a hand through his hair. Elliot took a sip of coffee. When the silence built to the point where it had sucked all the air from the room, Elliot spoke.

"I guess that although Tess struggles with being defensive, she could concede when she's been too hasty."

Beck nodded.

"Then it's possible for Weston, though arrogant, to have his moments of understanding when he is in the wrong."

Elliot nodded.

"Okay, let's start from there."

************

Elliot trudged up the stairs to her house. Leaning her forehead against the dark wood, she searched for her keys until she realized the door was unlocked. She stepped inside and froze halfway through closing the door. The smell of cinnamon, chocolate, and nutmeg floated through the house. Leaving her purse on the entry table, Elliot moved to the kitchen, where she found Cece.

With an apron tied around her slim waist, hair dusted with flour and falling loose from her ponytail, Cece danced around the room. Music pulsed through the spice scented air. Every surface was covered in some sort of pastry or other. Elliot slumped into a chair. Cece turned towards her a pan of fresh cookies in hand.

"I've decided to change occupations!" Cece said, setting the pan down.

"Writing is going that well, huh?"

Cece put a hand to her heart, looking dramatically off into the distance.

"I realized that my true calling is being a baker," Cece said.

"You realize bakers have to wake up at three in the morning to work, don't you?"

Cece looked at Elliot, astounded. The expression vanished, replaced by a good natured look.

"Well, that plan is out. It was good while it lasted."

Cece plopped into a chair and started picking at one of the small loaves of bread.

"Do you think you will ever be normal?" Elliot asked.

"I don't know. I think it's right around the corner. That's why I avoid left or right turns."

Elliot picked up a cookie and took a bit, grimacing.

"How was it?" Cece asked.

"I think it's best that you already gave up your hopes of being a baker."

"It was that bad?"

"It was choked in baking soda and I'm not sure it could have located it's own chocolate chips with a map."

Cece made a face then shrugged.

"What shall we do with all this then?" she asked, looking around the crowded kitchen.

"I think Ms. Newett just got a new dog, we could feed all of this to it?" Elliot suggested.

"Brilliant! You were always the smart one in the family."

Cece nibbled on a piece of bread and stared at Elliot.

"So...how did today go?" she asked.

"I don't know. I think I went into shock. I have suppressed the memory."

"I find that's the best way to deal with situations. I've had multiple conversations with Michelle over bridesmaids dresses, but have suppressed every single one of them."

"I hope she listened to our advice and chose a different dress," Elliot said. "The last one made me feel like someone was going to approach me during the reception and offer money for my services."

"As a waitress?"

"Exactly! It would be completely embarrassing."

"Especially since you have a knack for knocking people with trays."

"Okay it was one time and our cousin Milton deserved it."

Cece raised her hands.

"Hey! I'm not blaming you. I've spilled many a drinks on Milton for the sheer pleasure of it." Cece crossed her arms and leaned on the table. "Now back to how your day was."

"I thought we had tactfully dropped the subject."

"You tried, but this is me picking it up and setting it on the table before us."

Elliot crossed her arms and settled back in her chair.

"There's really no space on this table for such a large subject," she said.

Cece merely raised a single eyebrow and Elliot rolled her eyes.

"We argued about our characters and at the end of six hours only managed to agree on how to make them get along," Elliot said.

"That's progress. I imagined you sitting there staring at each other for hours, contemplating how you would off each other."

"We tried that but after an hour I had run through every scenario. He was finished at forty-five minutes, the smug smart person!"

"So where did you end it all?"

"I'm going to dismember him and he decided it was best to burn me alive," Elliot said. 

"It's good to see you both have a commonality in being gruesome."

"We had to find some common ground eventually."

"Murder, it brings us all together," Cece said, in a sing song tone.

"Are you quoting our Christmas card from last year?"

"Yes, but it works."

Elliot buried her face in her hands, letting out a low groan.

"We were getting along for a time," she said. "Well, I thought we were."

Cece stood and started cleaning up the kitchen, dumping bowls in the sink.

"Well, you'll figure it out. I have faith."

Elliot dropped her hands and scowled at Cece.

"Easy for you to say, you don't have to work with the guy."

Cece gave her a toothy smile.

"True!"

The front door opened and closed. Both Cece and Elliot turned as Tristan emerged from the hallway, dressed in slacks and a button down shirt. He eyed the kitchen, taking in the assortment of pastries.

"Cece baking again?" he asked.

Elliot nodded.

"Which one can I eat without dying or contracting a disease?"

Cece pointed to the far corner where coconut macaroons covered the counter.

"They are bland but you won't die. You might gain a few pointless pounds and be left with the after taste of pineapple but that's about the worst of it."

Tristan nodded and walked over. He grabbed a whole tray and took a seat. Cece continued cleaning up the evidence of her procrastination. Elliot took one of the macaroons and started breaking it into pieces. Tristan's lazy gaze watched her, silently eating.

"It will pass," Tristan said.

Elliot jerked her head up, meeting his patient look with one of surprise.

"How do you deal with someone you don't get along with but have to work with?" Elliot said.

"I tell them their dance technique is sloppy and smile as they glare at me."

"Lucky," Elliot muttered.

"People hit rough patches. It's the price of working with people. It will pass."

"What if it doesn't?"

"Then it won't and I'll say the eulogy at your funeral."

"I appreciate the support."

Cece set down a pan suddenly, the metal clanging against the granite counter top. Elliot and Tristan looked at her. She stood very still, staring at nothing. They waited. A second later she spun around and raced out of the kitchen and up the stairs, Tristan and Elliot watching her go. Cece's feet pounded on the hard wood floors. A door slammed and the noise faded. Elliot looked back at Tristan.

"It looks like she won't have to become a baker after all."

Tristan smiled.

"Then the world is saved."

**********************************************************************

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