AMERIICAN REQUIEM
✹
"ONE LINERS"
// TWO

WHEN DOES SILENCE BECOME LOUD? because it bounces through the walls of the bathroom, of the house that aches in old age with each creak of the floorboards or squeak of the door hinges. The solitude of Montana is a lie, the comfort of home the biggest one of all.

A hot stream of water that causes the red to rise to her skin runs down her back. Wren rests her forehead against the wall of the shower. One hand steadied on the wall and the other pushing the loose hairs into compliance with the slick lengths that fall down to her upper back.

The days feel longer than they did once, finding nothing to do with herself. Lee and Wyatt had the ranch, Jamie had his job, Kayce still hadn't shown up yet. And what she had gathered from fragments at dinner each night, he wasn't going to anytime soon.

He'd left too, a little closer to home than New York. Yet the sore still ached their father the same, maybe it was the marriage to a girl on the reservation, the child had created a marriage in the mere months they had met. Maybe it was the lack of distance, the thought of him just being out of reach.

Wren liked being out of arms reach, she liked being far enough that they couldn't try and wiggle themselves back in. Until she didn't, and suddenly she was finding herself crawling back to the hand of her father.

The water stops, exhaling as she reaches for her towel. The cotton slightly stiff as it itches her hot skin, water droplets paint the floor of the bathroom as she walks to the sink.

Her hand lifting to wipe over the fog hiding the mirror reflection from her, it's most likely a saviour. But still, she swipes it away as she meets the sight of herself.

It had her eyes, the pale green colour that people stared into. Some looking at the beauty, others trying to recollect the way other people looked at them with those same eyes. It had her nose, under the soft swelling that you wouldn't notice if even the smallest sniffle didn't make her recoil and tense.

Under the purple and brown that painted her cheekbone, the patches of skin that were healing on her lip and the drag of her skin that struggled to look healthy as it fit across her bones, she looked like her.

" someone had their way with you huh?" Wren jumps slightly, turning her head to look at her sister who stood in the doorway. Fingers re-tying the bow in her dressing gown as a cigarette sat between her fingers.

Wren glances back at the mirror, the thin layer of aluminium already clung to by the steam of the room. "would it kill you to knock?" she asks, beginning to move past her older sister.

Beth spins around to watch as she watches her sister walk towards the pile of clothes stacked in her suitcase. Droplets off her hair stain the material as wren lets out a soft huff.

"me, no.." she says, taking another drag as she continues to watch the woman crouched on the floor " but you...god one more blow and you could get a free nose job."

Wren scoffs, picking up her jeans and a shirt. Clutching the material in her hands as she soon throws it on the bed.

Beth stepping a little closer, " I mean, that husband of yours has a real mean right hook."

Wren tenses, her eyes whip back up to the redhead who watches her back "stop, someone might hear you." her words spoken through gritted teeth.

" fuckin' let them." she jeers, shaking her head " I know ten men on this ranch who'd make sure you were a widow by noon." her voice continues to raise.

Wren stays silent as Beth lets out a soft laugh " hey, I just fucked one of them on a dresser." she blows the smoke out, " I mean, Jamie couldn't hold his own for shit but—"

" Beth!" Wren's voice raises, it shakes slightly as she looks at her sister " I only told you about that—"

" wren, sweetie you didn't tell me shit." she hums, her voice teetering on the softness for her sister and her usual patronising tone " it took me five minutes sat in front of you in that restaurant and half of Sephora in your fucking purse—"

The younger of the two lets out a soft exhale that teeters on a whine, pushing a hand through the ratted mess of her wet hair " look, I'm here aren't I? you told me to leave him—"

" three fuckin' months ago—" Beth speaks over her,

"— and I have left, now if you could keep your fucking one liners about Aaron to yourself," Wren breathes out, shaking her head " and leave me to get changed, I'd be so fucking grateful."

A silence clings to them, Beth nodding her head as she walks into the bathroom. Stubbing her cigarette in the sink as she walks back in,

" still need a ride?" she hums softly, watching the sight of her little sister who nods her head.

" right, I'll be outside in twenty." Beth tells her, walking towards the door, "you missed breakfast, but I left you some food in the fridge."

Wren shakes her head, " I'm not hungry." she says.

Beth scoffs, " fine whatever," she tells her as the door opens " but fyi, you look a pound off me having to drive you to some clinic."

IF LEAVING YOUR HUSBAND WASN'T DEPRESSING ENOUGH, the grey walls of this lawyer office in Billings is definitely guiding Wren closer to a prescription bottle of Valium.

Her fingers tap anxiously against the arm of the chair she's pushed herself into, foot tapping against the floor. Sending a slight shake through the room that neither her nor the two hundred dollar an hour lawyer sat at his desk are bringing up.

"what are the grounds of divorce?" he types into his computer, not even looking at the blonde who shakes her head softly.

Biting her lip softly as the silence brings the stern eyes of the suited man back to the woman who simply shrugs. The man exhales " no fault? adultery? unreasonable behaviour?" he lists off.

Wren shakes her head, running a hand through her hair " I uh...I don't know." she exhales as her shoulders lift into a shrug again "look, just put whatever gets this done and dusted— I'm looking for a quick, clean break."

The lawyer hums, his hands interlocking in some patronising stance. Like a teacher reprimanding her, instead this time this isn't some essay. His look of disapproval stems from a stupid twenty one year old who thought she had met her soulmate. Who threw everything away and left her family to play a starring role in some fever dream in the big city.

" look, I know this is a hard time for you." he murmurs in a lack of empathy that makes it hard for the woman on the opposite side of the desk to believe in his words " but, I'm being hired to help you get the best deal out of this situation...and that may mean it's not quick nor clean."

She holds back the tremble in her lip as she takes it between her teeth, nodding " well, I'm hiring you to get me out of this marriage as soon as possible."

The man laughs softly, another slap across the face of the young woman who sits in front of him " these things take time, it's not a click your fingers and voila type of situation Mrs Eaton."

It's almost a reflex as she shortly corrects him "Miss Dutton."

pulling her chair out "and, I'm paying you two hundred dollars an hour to make it a fucking volia situation alright." she stands up, glancing at him as she reaches for her jacket.

" just, do whatever you want...put whatever type of divorce that insinuates that I want him fucking dead and send it to him," she begins to walk towards the door, her head whipping back "alright?"

He stares blankly, taking a few seconds before replying "consider it done."

Wren forces a sarcastic smile on her lips " see look, that's at least a hundred and fifty dollars of your commission earned right there." she mocks, eyes rolling as she turns back and leaves the office.

Beth stands by the door, holding out the cigarette for her little sister who emerges with a tighter jaw that signifies more than the nervousness she had walked in there with

" since when were their sub categories to getting a fucking divorce." Wren mutters, taking an inhale of the cigarette as Beth extends her hand.

Fingers delicate as they push back her hair " should've got married in Vegas, there's a line of divorce lawyer offices right by the little chapel." she tells her, earning a weary look from the blonde who passes her back the cigarette.

Beth watches her, taking a final drag from the last stub of the cigarette before tapping it out on the wall, "you know what? you look like you need a drink."

Wrens hands palm over her face " I need a divorce Beth, not a fucking martini." she exhales, letting her hands fall down beside her waist.

Wetting her lips as she glances at her sister, who recognises the soft plea in her eyes — it's one she had spent their childhood obeying, protecting her from.

" can we just go back to the ranch?" she asks, and despite her voice, all the woman stood beside her can hear is the soft whine of her little sister. Seeking something in her that she hadn't for a long time, comfort. "please?"

Beth nods, moving one arm to wrap around her shoulder as she pulls her close " yeah kid, I'll make you an old fashioned off the bar cart."

Wren's face softly scrunches as she mumbles "that sounds disgusting."

Beth laughs softly, applying more pressure to the hold around her shoulders " well we ain't in the city anymore kiddo," she tells her, guiding her towards the car " and I'm not day drinking with you looking like some transplant ordering martinis."

The car ride is quiet, not one of those that fills with unspoken words and lingering feelings. They're still there, but out of all of them, the two dutton sisters had seemed to sound a comfort in the silence they shared. Not using the stereo in Beth's car as a decoy to prevent conversation or prolonge the start of one.

Wren is pulled out of her thoughts as they drive up towards the lodge — it's the soft hum of her sister that makes her look up from her fidgeting in her lap " well, well, look who it is?"

Eyes gazing up to meet the sight of the only brother she hadn't seen in the couple days she had been back, who didn't anticipate seeing for a while longer. Last she had heard, he'd left for seemingly good (yet again, she had too) — lived on the reservation, had a wife, a family that didn't occupy these mountains. And yet, he stood not ten metres away from her now.

The last time Kayce Dutton had seen his little sister was when she was twenty. They were sat on the porch only a few yards away from them as they stood there on the drive. She was collecting tears with the cotton of her cardigan as she stretched the sleeve over the tips of her fingers.

Trying to hide her face as he closed the door behind him, the echos of the shouts from her siblings, her name thrown around in both Defense and opposition.

His steps light as they treaded down the steps, sitting down beside the woman who looked awfully like a child as tears rolled down her cheeks.

" I'm gonna leave," she states despite the shake of her voice, digging her heels in the dirt that cracks the further she tries to hold herself in it, " I'm gonna marry him-"

Kayce shakes his head, " look, I didn't come out here to try and convince you not to." he tells her, his voice soft despite the brash that always lingered in his tone " just wanted to see if you were alright."

Her head turns, the ache of disbelief painting her damp and reddened face — still trying to regain the breath she had spent, wasting her voice trying to defend her choices around the dinner table.

Her brother's hand extends, pulling the stray stands of hair from her face as they clung to the heat of it, " yeah, you're alright." the pad of his thumb lingering as it wipes another tear before pulling his hand away.

Wren watches him for a second longer, lip quivering as she tethered her teeth on it " I love him Kace.." she whispered, despite having said it for the last half hour, he was the only one really listening to her.

" and I wanna marry him, he's a good man." she tells him, sniffling " and they may not believe it, but he is."

Kayce didn't say anything, the only opinion he shared with those who continued to raise their voices in the four walls of their home, was that Aaron Eaton was in fact, not a good man.

The blonde woman shakes her head, turning her head away " god, at least lie and pretend you're in my fuckin' corner." she breathes out.

A hand pushes over his hair "it don't matter what I think Wren," he hums, as much as he wishes it did " it's your life, and if you run into the fuckin' sunset with this guy, it's your choice."

A soft laugh escaping from his mouth "knowing you, you'll just end up doing it anyway."

It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but the idea of her family coming around to the idea in any other way she had pictured was becoming more of a fantasy than leaving this place all together.

So she just takes it, forcing her lips to curve into something that impersonates appreciation.

" thank you Kace." she whispers, still trembling as the words leave her mouth, " hey, I'll invite you to the wedding."

He laughs gruffly, shaking his head " kid, I love you but I ain't fuckin' coming to new york."

That was the last time Wren had seen her brother. Well, until now as she stands by the front of Beth's car. His hair shorter, the same wrinkled skin by his eyes as his lips curve at the sight of her.

Arms crossing over her chest, a defeat she always wore sketched into her expression despite her attempt of smiling at him.

" didn't think I'd see you back here." his voice soft as he walks closer, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket — the brim of his hat hiding the sun from illuminating that sparkle in his eyes.

Her still shone as bright as ever, tilting her head with a click of her tongue " and from what I've heard, could say the same thing bout you Kace."

Squashing down a small smile as he nods his head "nothing good, I'm guessing." he tells her, glancing around before finding Wren's eyes once again.

She doesn't say anything, instead tilting her head to gesture to the boy no older than five who their father holds in his arms " that one yours, or should I be looking for missing child posters in town?" she hums in amusement.

Kayce follows her eye-line, nodding his head " yeah, that's tate." he confirms.

It's the soft burrow of jealously in his younger sister's stomach as she wets her lips as she nods "damn, you really got it all didn't you?" she asks, despite the question being rhetorical.

His eyes watch her, " not a lot I didn't sacrifice for it though." he adds, watching as the silence stirs in the air and regret aches in her eyes. Glancing down to her hand, the small dent in her skin of four years of wearing a ring that was now sitting on a piece of paper in another city with a note saying 'fuck you'.

He thinks about it for a second before opening his mouth again, words gargling on his tongue to find some functional words. But instead, he's pulled away by the voice of Jamie who's calling him over.

Turning back to his little sister who swishes whatever she wants to say between her tight lipped smile " go, I'll catch you later."

Kayce nods, lifting his hand as his fingers pinch the brim of his hat. Tipping it down to his sister before walking away.

With a final sigh, she walks towards the porch. Beth already disappearing inside and the rest of the house riding their horses down the grass towards one many of the trails mapped by their ancestors.

She already feels the silence clawing at her as she walks down further the porch. Eyes wondering around, catching the blurred figures of the wranglers who work in the pen. None of them she knows the name of except the two whose time on the ranch have seemingly predated her.

Like a soft blow to her already aching body, she looks at the small guitar stand positioned by one of the chairs. It sits there, the dusted she had wiped the pads of her fingers on only that morning is gone completely.

It glows under the light of the sun that peaks from the clouds, almost cowering in anticipation of her response. Unfolding her arms to brush her fingers against the strings, a soft reverberation of chords that don't usually belong together echos around the otherwise silence of the ranch.

Wren hadn't touched a guitar in New York, she walked past the people stood outside subway stations and street corners. Slowed her steps to linger past them without a rousing the suspicion that she missed any part of home. She watched the guitar players of the college bands that played the grave yard slot at the local dive bar from her apartment.

Aaron didn't like the noise, he made that clear before they even lived together. The late nights she spent sat in his rental in billings when he came here for business. The moonlight humming through the peaks of his curtains as she strummed the guitar, murmuring the lyrics to whatever song first crossed her mind when she picked up the decor guitar that sat by the fireplace. Made him lose focus, distracted him. So she didn't play that guitar and eventually her time became so consumed by him, she didn't play at all.

"fuck sake." she hums in the midst of a breath as her fingers extend to wrap around the neck of the instrument. Carrying it to the seating built into the stone that barricaded the porch.

One leg placed on the ground and the other crossed, another heavy puff of air exiting her mouth as she readjusted her position. It wasn't like she didn't know what she was doing, the few years not playing didn't amount to the decade and a half she had spent nights sat in this exact spot, with this exact same guitar creating a bridge between her knees. Singing softly to anyone that was still awake to hear it.

Her fingers sit on the chords, yet her thumb doesn't strum the strings yet. It shakes softly, as she blinks whatever she can see clouding her sight. Reminding herself it's just a guitar, that it was just a song, when it was actually anything but a 'just'.

It's in the mere time it takes her to blink that she's setting down the guitar on the soft padding of cushions. It doesn't take long until she's pacing back down the steps of the porch, her feet fast and heavy taking her in no particular direction or place. The untrimmed grass creates a due of green that stains the white of her sneakers as she walks further from the porch.

Lungs grasping at some momentary oxygen she doesn't let sit in them for too long, her breathing instead rapid heavy. Never taking a full intake of the air, as she tries to steady herself in a place she doesn't ever remember feeling fully steady in.

Nobody notices, at least Wren Dutton doesn't think they do. But alas, she blurs into the periphery of the wrangler leant against the fence of the pen. Eyes drifting from Colby who's corralling the newest stallion, he doesn't even realise what he's turning his head to look for.

That's until he sees her. Stood a few hundred metres away, not close enough for him to see her fully. But then again, he doesn't need to, has already knows she's beautiful.

" who is that?" Ryan's fingers pinch at the brim of his hat, lifting it up slightly to see her fully. Not just fixated on the sight of the jeans some may question were a size too small with the devotion that hugged her skin with. Yet, he couldn't blame the denim material for wanting to latch onto any piece of her that they could.

Colby's eyes follow, his gaze lacking the attachment that his fellow wrangler seems to let his eyes watch her with " I dunno', she's been here a couple days.."

His eyes drift back, yet Ryan's fail to. Watching as her hands lift to run through her hair, lifting the material of her shirt as she does so. He can feel the dryness scratch his throat the longer he watches, but he just still can't seem to look away.

Body straightening, hands going to readjust the collar of his shirt " well, maybe I should introduce myself—" he begins, cut off by the palm of Rip Wheeler that collides with his shoulder.

" don't get any fuckin' ideas." Rip pulls his hat back down to cover his eyes, hiding the sight of the woman from him " that's the bosses' daughter."

" that's wren?" he almost exhales like a pant, finally putting a name to the fact muttered like a myth around the bunkhouse, around the ranch in general. A single syllable of a name that sits on his tongue like it's just been waiting to say it aloud.

Rip noticing the wandering gaze over the hill to the woman walking across the lawn, " no, that's the lady I'm gonna gouge your eyes from their sockets if you don't look away from in the next two fuckin' seconds."

Ryan fakes a cough, pulling his eyes away despite their reluctance as he nods his head " sorry sir."

His gaze looking to the man whose lips permanently downturn into a scowl — a little tighter this time " now go make yourself fuckin' useful Ryan." his request rough, " mr Dutton isn't paying you to gawk at his daughter all goddamn day!"

Rip's feet drag in the gravel as he walks away, barking out jobs that need doing as the wrangler follows behind him. Eyes turning, the hope of seeing her again felt almost juvenile as it clawed at him.

But when he looked back up to the lawn, she was already gone.

ELLIE SPEAKS
watch this be Ryan and Wren's only interaction in season one... ( IM JOKING but his screen time before season 3 is sickening!!!)

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