A/N Okay, heard this song, thought, "Hmm, can I write a Crellie about this? Yes!" Hope you like it. I'm pretty proud of it. Of course it will never top 'Go On.'

Disclaimer: Song is by Snow Patrol.

It's hard to argue when
you won't stop making sense
But my tongue still misbehaves and it
keeps digging my own grave with my

"Why are you here, doing this now?"

"Do you really love him?"

"You didn't answer my question!"

"You didn't answer mine."

To really understand what's going on right now, we need to go back a few weeks

- Nine Weeks Ago-

There are two things you want to do after being released from a miserable rehabilitation clinic:

1.) Eat a bacon double cheeseburger, no pickles, with a McFlurry from McDonald's. When all they feed you is pita wraps and chicken salads, you really could use some greasy, fattening, so-bad-for-you-it's-not-even-funny food.

2.) Go talk to Ellie Nash.

Okay, maybe the last one only applies to me.

I've tried calling her, but there was too much to say for the ten minutes I get daily for the phone.

I've tried writing letters, but between my horrible penmanship and spelling, the letter would be pretty hard to read.

And it would be easier to tell her the things I have to say in person.

So, as soon as I walk out those doors that kept me from the people I needed to see and the things I needed to do, there are two things I need to do:

1.) Go through the drive-through lane of the closest McDonald's

2.) Find Ellie Nash

I'll even skip the drive-through, and head straight to her apartment.

When I get there, I'm prepared for her to be sitting on the couch, devoured by a historical fiction novel or a Rolling Stone magazine, chewing on her ruby-red bottom lip.

But when I do get there, she's trying on a lacy, white dress; a dress resembling a wedding gown.

Marco runs up to greet me, Jimmy rolls on over and gives me a handshake, Spinner gives me a "Hey man!", and Paige says "Hey hun! Glad to have you back!" And Ellie won't even give me the slightest bit of acknowledgement. "Ellie, aren't you going to say anything?" Marco asks.

I can tell she wants to say no, but she won't, because she can't. Because if she does that'll involve remembering the night I played all those songs for her, and my little gig at the bar, and my big gig at the bar with Taking Back Sunday where I screwed everything up, and how I left. "Oh, sorry. Hey Craig. I'm just so involve with this whole wedding,"

God, she was never a good liar.

-Eight Weeks Ago-

"So, Ellie, we're going to have dainty hors d'oeuvres and although this isn't very typical, a crudité basket with aaioli sauce for dipping. The entrees will be Tandoori Lamb Chops with Cilantro Mint Chutney, Provençal Salmon with Sauce Pistou, and Chicken with Chardonnay and Fresh Herbs," Ellie's future mother-in-law is rambling on about the food for the wedding and it's obvious that Ellie has no idea what chutney is, and doesn't plan to learn.

And it's hard not to laugh at the dumbstruck redhead and the woman that looks like Sharon Stone.

Then Sharon Stone goes on about the wedding band and the floral arrangements. It's also apparent that Ellie has had very little input in her wedding plans, because she wouldn't want to have a swing band and has no clue what an Amaryllis is.

-Seven Weeks Ago-

This week I'm driving Ellie to meet with a photographer to look at his portfolio, then to meet Marco and Sharon Stone (I should probably learn her name) at a boutique to pick out bride's maids dresses, then to this "adorable" bakery to pick out the cake.

But it's a long drive to this photographer's studio and I want to fill the loud silence between the two of us; the only way we've spoken to each other is when she saw at her door the day she was trying on her dress. "What's his name?" I ask.

"Marc,"

And she doesn't elaborate on it, by adding on how they met and where he proposed, like your typical blushing bride, but Ellie isn't so typical.

And God, the silence is getting louder. "With a 'k' or a 'c'?"

"Look, I know your trying to fix things, but you can't, so..." And she seems at a loss of words and it's at least ten seconds before she finishes her sentence. "...don't,"

So, I don't. And it's long ride to this guy's house.

-Six Weeks Ago-

And now where planning the honeymoon. "I'm thinking a few days in Fiji, then heading over to Monte Carlo for four days, then Spain for four, finishing up in Bermuda for three. Do you think you guys should stop in Brazil?"

But Ellie doesn't answer, because she's absorbed in her thoughts.

And I wish I knew what she was thinking.

"Ellie?" Sharon asks.

"Oh, sorry," Ellie apologizes, jumping out of her thoughts. "I just need to step out for a minute,"

Sharon walks up to me. "God, why couldn't he marry someone with some class? Where did he find this eyeliner hoarding girl? A street corner? The Welfare line?"

I give this woman a look that's a perfect balance of youbitch and howthehellcanyousaysomethinglike that. "He was cheating on her with this delightful young lady named Delilah. I wish he had broken it off with that redheaded skank,"

"What did you say your name was?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Martha,"

"Well, Martha, your son's kind of a man whore and that "delightful young lady" is really the skank. And you my friend aren't much better than the prostitutes on the corners of downtown streets. So, you want to call Ellie, names that are so far from true, so be it. Because you may be able to hide some flaws on your face with all your cover-up and eye make-up, but character flaws are a real bitch to try to hide,"

Martha is about to say something, but Ellie reenters. "Sure, Brazil sounds fine."

And I can tell she's really regretting the fact she said yes to Marc's proposal.

At the bakery, everyone's laughing and smiling as they munch on cake samples accompanied by non-fat milk. So, is Ellie. But it's faker than Ashlee Simpson's nose and her smile is so clenched I'm surprised she doesn't break her jaw.

It's not as easy as willing it all to be right
Gotta be more than hoping it's right
I wanna hear you laugh like you really mean it
Collapse into me, tired with joy

-The Wedding Day-

It's the big day and Marco seems more excited than Ellie. Which is pretty sad.

I'm driving Ellie to pick up her shoes at the wedding dress boutique. But of course, we hit the morning rush hour to work. "Fuck, this is my fucking wedding day and I don't have my fucking shoes and we're in fucking rush hour! Why the fuck is this happening to me?!"

"Calm down, Nash, we'll get there in time,"

"We were supposed to be at the chapel getting ready ten minutes ago!"

"Just change in the car, then,"

She rolls her hazel eyes and mumbles some unfriendly expletives under her breath. God, I missed her.

After sliding on her strapless gown, she perches her elbows on the dashboard of the car. "Did you ever think of me while you were away?"

And I look at her and she looks at me. And you don't know how baldy I want to kiss her right now. "Sorry, just pretend I didn't ask that,"

"Ellie-"

"Just forget, alright,"

We're twenty minutes late. Ellie doesn't even have her shoes, because the UPS delivery man wasn't coming until tomorrow as it turns out. She's about to get out of the car and I figure I need to say this now or I'll never get to. "Yeah,"

"What?" She asks, with one Converse covered foot out the door.

"I thought about you-- a lot,"

"Oh,"

"Yeah," And it's quiet for awhile and she still hasn't gotten out. "Do you really love him?"

"Wh-wh-what?"

"Do you really love him?"

She closes the door. "Why are you here, doing this now?"

"Do you really love him?"

"You didn't answer my question!"

"You didn't answer mine," She sighs in exasperation, running her fingers through her messy hair. "Do you even want to get married?"

She looks like she's about to cry. "No. Not at all. Not with any fiber of my being,"

It's not as easy as willing it all to be right
Gotta be more than hoping it's right
I wanna hear you laugh like you really mean it
Collapse into me, tired with joy

"Let's face it, you have no idea what's being served at your wedding and you wouldn't wear white because you're a little to honest for that and you'd want some obscure punk-rock band to play at your band. And in the end you don't even want to get married. So, then why did you go through all this?"

"Because I had to. I had to in order to get over you,"

"All I know is that when I'm with you my heart starts pounding, and my hands sweat, and my stomach twists itself into nothing. You know why? Because I love you. And I yanked you around until you got truly hurt. And what you're doing to Marc isn't anything less of what I did. So answer me this honestly, do you love him?"

She pauses. "I should go,"

So, Ellie goes. Marching into a church with a beautiful white dress with ancient black Chuck's.

Because she has to.

Which is truly unfortunate.

The ceremony begins and ends pretty much at the same time. "Do you, Marc Simpson, take this woman to be your wife, in sickness and in health?"

"I do."

"Do you, Ellie Nash, take this man to be your husband, in sickness and in health?"

"Chicago" bursts to life and your
sweet smile remembers you, my
Hands open, and my eyes open
I just keep hoping
That your heart opens

She glances over at me, then to Marc, then at her hands, then back to Marc.

"No," And the chapel gasps. "I'm sorry, I just-just- I can't," And she runs. Runs as fast as her thin legs will carry her.

And I follow her. Running. As fast as my long, lanky legs will carry me.

She jumps in the car seat. And I follow. "Oh my fucking God! What the hell did I just do?!"

"You did the right thing! Trust me! You-"

She interrupts me with a kiss on my lips. "You just kissed me,"

"I love you! I love you so much," She says placing her smooth hands on my cheeks. "I love you, Craig Manning,"

"I love you too, Ellie Nash,"

She takes a deep breath. "So, what should one do after running out on their wedding?"

"Get a burger, I'm thinking," And she laughs whole-heartedly, unlike the day we picked out the cake.

I kiss her one more time, because her lips feel so good against mine. "I love you,"

She smiles. So do I. And we drive off, as I put arm around her and she leans her head on my shoulder.

I wanna hear you laugh like you really mean it
Collapse into me, tired with joy