i drive your truck [{Silas AU}]

[SILAS SCHMIDT]

This is really random, but I got this muse after listening to I Drive Your Truck by Lee Brice on the radio. It made me think of Silas and Ellie trying to cope after Tyler dying in combat overseas. So.. that's what happened. TELL ME WHAT Y'ALL THINK.

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Silas sat in a red pick-up truck with the windows rolled down and the country radio station turned up. A pair of dog tags indented with the name CARTER, TYLER hung from the rear-view mirror, swinging and clinking in the light breeze. For a long moment, he didn't move. Suddenly, he reached forward to shift gears, sending the truck plowing through the freshly turned earth. The speedometer rose and fell rapidly as the truck twisted. Silas turned the wheel sharply and the truck spun, sending up a cloud of dust and dirt. Tears began to pour down Silas' face and his agonized yell was lost in the roar of the engine.

Finally, the vehicle came to a standstill and the young man was left weeping in the drivers seat. The windshield was covered in mud, and on the dashboard, Silas had taped a picture of his best friend in his uniform. He stared at it now, lost in memories and anguish. The passenger door opened and Ellie got right in. His best friend's baby sister was seventeen now, and she stared at Silas. In the silence there was an understanding, a hurt that went beyond words. A few tears trickled down her face before she spoke quietly.

"Can I drive his truck?"

Silas nodded and got out, allowing her to slide over and he got in the other door. Ellie stepped hard on the gas and they kicked up more earth as they drifted in a neat semi circle. Sometimes, when it hurt this much, they drove Tyler's truck.

[ADDISON ROWE]

uh okay so this is dumb and it doesn't exactly follow mugs' timeline.
like i added 3, 4+ years. okay fine read i GUESS BYE

---

For a very long time, Addison denies that it ever happened.

That’s how she tends to cope with death. That’s how she dealt with her father’s death. When he passed away, she very fervently rejected any sort of apologies or offers of help. She’d give them strange looks and a hollow laugh, insisting that her father is just fine, thank you very much. Eventually, it hits her. It hits her like a ton of bricks, like a truck going 100mph, like hitting the concrete after falling from a 10-story building. It hits her hard. And she cries. She cries for days. She cries herself to sleep, she cries while showering, she cries while making food, she cries while reading. The tears never seem to stop.

Eventually, they do. And when they do, she goes home to spend some time with her mother and her brothers. It’s as if they’ve seen a ghost when Addison walks into the kitchen. She is pale and her eyes are red and she looks tired. More tired than anybody should ever look. Her mother has been crying, too. Addison can tell. Her mother wears that oversized cream sweater when she cries. It’s easier to bury her face in soft cloth than it is in her hands, hands that her husband held on walks through the park, hands that cradled their children when they were babies, hands that wrung together with worry that night, hands that feel empty now that she no longer wears her wedding ring. She can’t. It brings back too many memories, and too many tears.

And this is how Addison Rowe feels when she is told of Tyler Carter’s death. And she wonders why she never tried to talk him out of joining the Marines. And she wonders if things would be different had she kept in touch better with him. And she wonders why he had to be sent overseas, weren’t there places closer to home to be sent? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t have an answer for any of her what if questions. And it hurts. Everything hurts. Her heart hurts. Her hands hurt, her fingers from being curled into constant fists, her palms from the nails digging into her skin. Her head hurts, from headaches and torn hair. She aches everywhere there is to ache. Nothing helps. Not ice cream or books or writing or music. Nothing.

Eventually, she visits Pickle. Now that they’re grown up and no longer in school, it feels almost wrong to call her by such a silly nickname. Eventually, she visits Michelle. Because of course, if anybody needs comforting, it’s Michelle. Addison knows how close the two of them are… were. She remembers thinking how perfect they’d be together. How they’d have a wonderful life together, if either of them could get over their initial shyness. And they do. And it’s a beautiful wedding. And Addison writes them. And so when Addison Rowe visits Michelle Cart… Abrey… When she visits Michelle Abrey, she finds herself not surprised that there literally hundreds of baked goods and elaborate dishes on every available surface in the kitchen.

They spend a good amount of time crying. It hurts. Everything hurts. At some point, they fall asleep. It is a long rest of dreams and nightmares, heartfelt goodbyes and imaginary explosions, and she wakes up screaming and sobbing. She dozes off to Michelle stroking her hair, murmuring broken reassurances. And she realizes just before sleep overcomes her that the roles have almost switched, and Addison has never felt less like the mother hen that everybody knows her to be. When she wakes up, it feels late. Later than she’s ever allowed herself to sleep in. Miraculously enough, Michelle is still asleep. Her eyes are shut tight and she is frowning and Addison feels a pang in her heart and she presses a kiss to Michelle’s brow.

And then she gets up and resolves to do what she can. And so she puts all of the baked goods and elaborate dishes in plastic air tight containers, and she cleans up, dusting and washing, and she makes breakfast or the both of them, and she feels better in an hour. For awhile, her mind is filled with the lyrics of the music she’s playing and all she thinks about is the next chore on her list. Then they have breakfast in bed and they keep their minds off the present for a bit by talking about high school, laughing and reminiscing. For a while, things feel almost normal. And then the sun sets and the moon shines bright and night changes things, bringing with it cold and darkness.

Addison goes home after a couple of days, insisting she doesn’t want to be any more of a burden to sweet dear Michelle. Besides, she has things to take care of at home. So they kiss and hug goodbye and Addison heads home with plenty of leftovers and a freedom from the tightness in her chest. And she stops to say hello to her family on her way, holding her brothers as tightly as she can for longer than they like, squirming and teasing. And then she has tea with her mother and they talk about books and before Addison leaves, she gives them some of the leftovers. And soon she’s on her way home, driving faster than she’s used to, the trees and cars and buildings around her all a blur.

And she opens the front door and there’s music playing and she smiles a bit and calls out a hello. And there’s their golden retriever, jumping at her, barking, and she laughs and hugs, scratching him behind the ears. And then she is being greeted and she looks up and there he is, in the kitchen, and she realizes how good the house smells, and she feels a little flutter in her stomach, and she wonders how her heart could go racing like this after so long. Addison goes to embrace him and he holds her and whispers some more reassurances before pulling her into the kitchen and he’s making her favorite meal and she gives a teary little laugh. And at least she knows now that Tyler Carter is safe and it’s that that makes her feel that things will be okay.

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[PICKLE ABREY]

He said he would be fine. He promised he would be--and even though Pickle knew how silly those promises were, she believed them. She believed them enough that she said yes when he asked her to marry him, she believed them when he went through training. And she believed him when she walked down the aisle, meeting the man dressed in his Blues. How handsome he looked in dark jacket, with the white belt around his waist. The way he stood, with his hands out to catch hers when she got close enough. She believed him for the next year--until he was summoned for duty.

Perhaps the newlywed bliss was still blinding her, because she believed his promises that he was going to come home. It was difficult, being a Marine's wife. Gone for months at a time--Pickle sometimes felt lonely. They had moved back to Minnesota, close to his family. The open fields were home for Pickle, and it was nice, because her in-laws kept her company during those hard times. But she had never expected that that truck would roll up. That those men in their handsome uniforms would march from the truck, removing their hat as they came up to her. Another with a folded flag, and the glint of metal resting on top.

The soldier's words sounded garbled, underwater. Michelle Carter stood there, a blank smile plastered on her face as tears filled her eyes. She wanted to believe him till every last second, even as her entire body went numb. The flag and dog tags were placed in her shaking arms, and the soldier's helped her inside to comfort her. But the entire time, Michelle felt numb. Mrs. Carter this. Mrs. Carter that. Michelle. Michelle. The name fell deaf on her ears. Everyone called her Michelle now--but it was those sweet little whispers of Tyler that still carried her nickname--Pickle. That was the name she wanted to hear.

When the soldiers were gone--Michelle was left with nothing but the tags and the flag. Her husband would come home in a pretty little box, with a pretty little flag, in a pretty little uniform. The casket would be closed--she would never see his face again. That realization tightened her throat, and only then did those large blue eyes finally allow the tears to come rushing forward. Michelle couldn't remember how long she cried--she needed someone. Anyone. However, she couldn't reach the phone. It was Gavin that had literally broken her door down, and it was Gina that had gathered Michelle into her arms as both Mrs. Carters cried.

The grieving never stopped, really. It was a numb horror that haunted her. Going to sleep in a bed where Tyler would never again lay--dreams of a future of a family, never to be fufilled. She hadn't wanted him to go into the Marines; and in that, she felt like she had jinxed him. She felt like she hadn't argued harder. Though they seemed to be perfect, there were nights where they screamed until they were red in the face, and Tyler would sleep on the couch. He'd wake up in the morning, with Michelle on the floor next to him. Their fights were over this--she hadn't wanted him to go. It wasn't fair--but he was the epitome of an American boy. And he felt as though he had to fight for his country.

And he had died for his country.

Time seemed to drag slowly, and Michelle found that her heart would shatters at every little memory. For a while, she wore the dog tags about her neck, proudly. She would raise her chin. She was Mrs. Michelle Carter, widow of Lieutenant Colonel Tyler Carter--and she was proud. At his funeral, she kept her chin raised. She didn't sob, not when she had to be strong. Because it wasn't just the men in the military that was strong--their wives were equally tough. She grasped the podium until her fingers turned white, and tears fell from her eyes as she talked about her husband. And the night before they buried him, she laid a blanket out to sleep next to the casket, while another Marine stood guard over the fallen soldier and his wife.

The dog tags were removed from her neck, and placed into Ellie's hands. They would hang in Tyler's truck. And with an awkward stride, Michelle got into her own car and drove herself home alone.

She bottled it up well, managed to go about her day with a stiff, aching jaw. Her throat ached with unshed tears--and again she was baking. She was cooking. For everyone, and no one. A habit that had never left her, Pickle baked every single one of Tyler's favorite pasties. His favorite dishes. She cooked from sun up to sun down--trying to erase the pain from her head. The pain from her shoulders. It took her best friend next to Tyler to help her.

Addison knew, she always knew. And though family could be wonderful--Michelle didn't realize how much she needed someone that wasn't family, at that moment. For a while, Michelle wasn't alone. They cried, and they laughed. They brought out old yearbooks and pictures. Trudged up dusty masks, and filled the air with 'remember when?'s. It wasn't mourning that Michelle needed--it was celebrating.

Being from Louisiana, there was a comfort with spirits. With the afterlife, and the strangeness. And thought their laughter, Michelle felt that Tyler was there. Laughing with them, stirring up memories she thought she had forgotten. And though her dreams were haunted in the beginning, the nightmares would quell with visits from her soldier, and kisses to her forehead. Wispers of his voice filled her ears.

It was some time after Addison had left. But all at once, the nightmares had ended. And peace settled over the quiet home. The air was alive, and sparkling. And for the first time in a long time--Michelle was able to smile. She was the wife and widow of Tyler Carter; not a soldier--but a brave man, who had given his life so she--and countless others could continue theirs. And once again--Michelle was able to laugh.

[TYLER CARTER]

So THIS ONE is inspired by Casey James' Crying On A Suitcase. THIS ONE IS HAPPIER. Or at least cuter.

---

As usually happened when two people were in a relationship for extended periods of time, Tyler and Michelle fought.
Sometimes they were little fights about little things. Sometimes they were bigger fights about bigger things. But this time, it was about Tyler and the Marine Corps, a reoccuring topic during fights. It had started as a talk, and as usual, Tyler got defensive, Michelle got worried and soon enough their voices were raised to a level that could possibly have disturbed the neighbors. Things were said that neither could take back, and in the heat of the moment, both had too much pride to do so.

Finally, Michelle had said that if that was the way he felt, then maybe they should just forget all of this and she could go back home and not have to keep worrying about it. Tyler then asked why didn't she. It wasn't until then, with Michelle's round eyes full of hurt and her voice caught in her throat that he realized her statement had been rhetoric. He fell silent and Michelle swept past him, pulling a suitcase from the closet and filling it clumsily, her movements spurred by anger. Tyler didn't have the sense to stop her and he walked out, slamming the door behind him. He went out to sit on the back steps and stared at the dreary sky.

A few minutes later, he heard the front door close and he rushed back inside. Stopping by their room, he checked Michelle's half of the closet to find it empty. A note was taped to the closet door. Muttering some colorful curses, he then ran to the front door, just in time to see Michelle drive away. He gripped his hair as his breathing became harsh. His eyes stung in the most peculiar way and his body seized up. She'd never left before. He'd never left before. He shouldn't have even left the room. Shouldn't have left her alone to assume that what he had said was what her really wanted.

Maybe this would be better for them. She had never really liked the idea of him possibly going into combat. That day hadn't come yet, but someday it would. And wouldn't it be better for her to find someone who was her solid rock? Someone who she never had to doubt. Someone who would come home to her every night. And he could.. What? Find a girl who wanted him to go away for long periods of time? His heart ached when he thought of a life without her. Tyler was suddenly furious with himself. His fist connected with the wall, cracking the sheetrock under the paint. What had he done? He had to stop her.

Tyler sprinted out the door, not even pausing to make sure it shut. Jumping into his truck, he put his key in and it roared to life. He took corners too fast and exceeded the speed limit to a point where he could have been arrested but no one saw him besides his frustrated fellow drivers on the highway. It was much too long a drive to the airport and when he got there he couldn't be bothered to find parking. He skidded to a halt, one tire lifting up onto the curb in front of the doors and he hopped out, leaving the truck running and the keys in the ignition. He nearly knocked over an elderly couple who were walking out the door in his haste. Staring around at the lines of people, he swore loudly. She must have already gotten her ticket. He tried to run past the gates and was pulled back roughly by security. He struggled against them, trying to give a short explanation but they weren't having it. Desperate, Tyler yelled for Michelle, drawing even more eyes than before as the airport security team scuffled with him.

Suddenly a pale girl with a soft blonde ponytail appeared and stared at Tyler in shock. He stared back at Michelle, noting the tear-tracks on her cheeks. Loudly, he apologized and when security realized he was no longer struggling, they loosened their grip. Tyler's eyes didn't leave her as he begged forgiveness, reassuring her that he didn't mean what he said, that he didn't want her to leave, ever. Her eyes narrowed as she reminded him that she didn't want him to leave her either. He told her he wouldn't and she gave a quiet skeptical sigh. Falling to his knees, he promised that he'd never leave.

"Marry me, Pickle."