Title: Six Miles of Vegas
Series: The Vegas Saga
Rating: PG13ish
Word Count: series total of 23,000
Summary: When Michelle's car broke down just outside of Las Vegas, Julian stopped to give her a hand. You can see where this is going.
Notes: Part three. You know how in A Hard Day's Night there's that moment when John Lennon says, 'let's do the show right here' and then they start playing? Apparently that was intended to be a parody of scenes in other movies where people couldn't make it to their venue and did concerts in the middle of a field. Unfortunately, when you watch the movie, you don't realize it's a joke at all. There's a moment like that in here.



Richard wasn't precisely what Michelle had expected. When she pictured James with his friends- intelligent, middle-aged, polite, and somewhat absent-minded James- Michelle tended to imagine men not so different from him. Louder, yet- from the phone calls and muttered remarks, such a supposition was beyond elementary.

But Richard was- unexpected. He was rather short- only five or six inches taller then Michelle's 5'1"- with brown hair he spiked and large brown eyes. He was perfectly gracious to Michelle, at first, and kept his manners for all of an hour or so, after which time he and James began baiting each other relentlessly, arguing and conversing in equal measures.

Their interaction was highly reminiscent of Andy and Michelle and Elle but the three of them tended to keep some girlish decorum. It more closely resembled the fleeting observations of Andy and Viv, the blond hippie she'd crossed the continent with. The thought of Andy troubled Michelle. As promised, she had called back east again, the day after they spoke but there had been no answer. She left a message with Julian's phone number, but, for two days now, there had been no response.

It was around four in the afternoon on the third day, as Michelle sat in the living room of Julian's house, abusing the TV remote in her indecision as to whether to call again. She heard the phone ringing in the kitchen, and pushed her paranoid musings aside as Julian answered. She listened as he carried on a conversation just below her range of hearing.

She didn't mind not understanding the words- Michelle just liked the sound of his voice. She wished, wryly, that he had been deeply unpleasant with a two-packs-a-day smoker's cough. Had that been the case, she could probably have gotten over her inconvenient attraction to him. As it was, he was attractive, incredibly sweet, funny, and had a voice she would never get tired of listening to. She didn't have a prayer.

Julian's voice was drowned out by a pounding comparable to that of a dozen elephants in a stampede coming down the stairs. Richard appeared, all sparkling brown eyes and trendy clothes. He looked good, just like always and if Michelle hadn't been so thoroughly enamored with Julian she might have fallen for himself.

"Seen James about?" he asked, cheerfully, apparently taking her presence for granted. Which wasn't surprising, really, as the only thing she used the hotel for was sleep and all the rest of her time was spent at the house. It was an arrangement he had raised an expressive eyebrow at the first day but he had refrained from commenting when James didn't even bother pretending he hadn't kicked him in the shins.

"Not since this morning," she replied. "Lost him?"

"Looks that way," he said, wandering over to take a seat at the other end of the couch, looking far sulkier then was proper for a grown man. "Dunno how you can miss him, though. That hair..." He shook his head.

Michelle laughed.

"Never assume that," she said. "Andy dyes her hair purple and we still lose her in crowds. It's like a law- the more obvious a person ought to be, the stealthier they become."

Richard grinned. "Makes sense," he said. "Given how often James is over-looked..."

"Hm?" she asked, confused.

He shook his head. "It's nothing. Who's Jules talking to?"

Michelle shrugged. "No idea. He's been on for a while, though."

Richard looked at her with surprise. "You mean to tell me you've been sitting here this whole time and not actively eaves-dropping?"

"Not today, no," she said, with a smile. "Today is more of grand larceny day."

"Huh?"

Having paid back the debt of confusion, she smiled wider and shook her head.

"Never mind," she said. "If you want to-"

The broke off as the door swung inward, bringing with it a slightly ruffled James, bringing with him a very fragrant paper bag. He nodded at them, kicking the door closed behind him.

"Curry," he said to Michelle. "For you and Julian." He then fixed his gaze solidly on Richard. "You and I are going out for sushi."

"When?" Richard asked.

James handed the bag to Michelle and looked at his watch. "Half an hour," he said, then nodded again. "If you'll excuse me..." He turned on his heel and headed up the stairs.

They watched him go, bemused, before looking back at each other.

"He's a bit weird, your friend," Michelle said, wisely.

"He wasn't like this, before," Richard replied. "You Yanks have done something to him."

"I'm not a Yank," Michelle replied. "Northerners are Yanks. And in any case, I'm the only one around, in case you haven't noticed. He's been hanging around with your fellow countryman all this time."

Richard waved a hand dismissively as he climbed to his feet.

"Julian went native ages ago," he said. "He doesn't count." He started for the stairs. "I'll go see what's up. Haven't seen James that- er- efficient since Cardiff."

Before Michelle could process this strange aside, Richard had vanished up the stairs. Smirking, she shook her head, wondering at the depths of history those men shared. Even the near-incessant recitations of memories- primarily those embarrassing to the point of emotionally scarring- when they were all together at meals hadn't even begun to scratch the surface. They knew each other far too well.

It took Michelle a bit of time to realize something was off and a few moments longer to realize that after Richard had gone, silence had fallen completely. There was no murmur from the next room and haven't been for a while- far too long to justify listening for a reply. Julian, it seemed, was off the phone.

Michelle got to her feet and strode into the kitchen as nonchalantly as possible. She had realized immediately upon James handing over the bag that this meant that she a Julian would be dining together. Alone together, in an otherwise empty house. It felt entirely too much like a date for her romance-starved and Julian-addled brain. This was another feeling she stomped on with the proverbial studded boots but she suspected that this execution would be about as successful as the last one. Texas Michelle's brain was not. She felt her mouth twisting into a wry smile at the thought and decided not to wonder what it meant when she came to the point of comparing her thought processes unfavorably to disconcertingly blood-thirty state governments.

Julian was indeed off the phone. He was lounging in his chair at the kitchen table far more effectively this most mortals would be able to manage, with one hand wrapped around a cup that was no longer steaming, gazing out the window with a contemplative expression that made Michelle somehow uneasy. She dropped the bag in front of him with unnecessary abruptness, hoping to chase away the distance in his eyes.

"James is taking Richard for sushi," she said, slightly too loudly. Her voice seemed to echo in the quiet kitchen, and she promptly berated herself for such thoughts, when she knew full well the science of echoes and exactly how unsuitable the kitchen was for producing them. "He brought us curry."

Julian looked up at her curiously, a ghost of a smile forming at his lips.

"Doesn't desire the pleasure of our company?" he asked, quietly.

"Guess not," she said. "Think you can put up with me along for the evening."

"If you feel you can do me the same courtesy."

Michelle frowned and furrowed her brow as if this were something she had to consider carefully.

"I guess so," she replied, after a moment.

Julian grinned at her and she was ridiculously pleased, as well as surprised to realize that she had been trying to make him smile.

"Excellent," he said. "Then we can go through his things while they're gone."

This last was said just loudly enough to reach the hearing of James as he came down the stairs. Their laughter almost drowned out his indignant curse and whatever thoughts had turned Julian's eyes the blue of an ocean too far off for one to be certain whether it was really there at all... They were gone. Michelle was grateful for this.



Dinner was nowhere near so uncomfortable as Michelle had feared it might be. She and Julian got along too well and he was far to adept as putting her at ease for that. Curry was consumed, shoes removed (Julian, as a certain point during the day, was prone to becoming impatient with his and Michelle had taken to following his example) and video games discussed.

Julian didn't actually play video games, but he was one of those rare individuals who is entirely capable of carrying on a conversation about something he knows little about, primarily by asking endless questions. By the time Michelle had finished her treatise on everything she had ever found wrong with one of the Final Fantasy games the food was long since gone and the table had, at some point during her oration, been cleared. She was almost embarrassed but when she met Julian's' eyes and found his smile, the warm, squishy feeling in her belly chased away any negative emotions.

She had it bad.

As always when this thought occurred to her, Michelle felt her cheeks beginning to burn and cursed her complexion- it betrayed her blush so easily. She wasn't sure if she'd ever been so startled in her life when she noticed an identical flush rising on his face.

For a moment, their expressions were absolute mirrors- embarrassed and surprised and just the slightest bit love sick. But then, beyond that eternal moment when she felt her heart might just burst, Julian grinned and held out his hand.

"Hey," he said. "Come on."'

"What?" But she was already taking his hand, allowing herself to be led from her chair then from the kitchen and into the living room and deposited at one end of the coffee table

"Help me move it," he said, motioning to is as he positioned himself at the other end.

"Why-?"

"Please?" he said, blue agate eyes widening just the slightest bit. "Come on. I'll tell you in a minute."

The look on Julian's face- focused and excited and hopeful and just a little bit of begging- broke whatever resolve Michelle might have had and she grasped the table edge with a cautious nod. His smile was so wide and sincere and perfect that she thought, bemusedly, that she would have rearranged every bit of furniture in the house if that was what it got her.

"Where to?" she asked.

They moved the table- heavier then she's expected, but she could have gotten it on her own- over to the wall, below where the stairs began. Before she could speak, again, he was across the room, and kneeling beside a stereo that must have cost more then the truck, when it was new. The house, as she had become more and more aware as time went on, was absolutely saturated in money. Read hardwood floors and furniture, top of the line electronics, real marble in the bathroom floor- it was subtle, not flashy, not like she'd always imagined Elle's home might look, but Michelle often wondered how Julian, who didn't seem to work and never talked about money, had ever managed to afford such a place, and right in the city, too...

These thoughts and hundred other, unconnected and irrelevant, chased each other in circles around her head until the music began and he came and stood in the middle of the room, holding a hand out to her and everything else was banished. His face was again flushed, slightly, and she could feel her own beginning to burn, as well, but he was smiling and somehow that made it all okay.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, sounding almost embarrassed.

Michelle blinked. "Huh?" she asked.

Another man might have been offended by this utter lack of comprehension of such a grand gesture but Julian just laughed. It wasn't an unkind laugh- he wasn't laughing at her- but one that warmed her all over and sent the fire in her cheeks roaring down the back of her neck.

"I'm asking you to dance with, Michelle," he said. "Would you like to?"

A romance novel heroine would have said something witty or gushing or swooned into his arms, Michelle later thought. (She hadn't actually read any romance novels - unless you counted a work of fiction Andy had given her back in high school, starring Michelle herself and an actor she'd quite fancied, at the time - but Andy had gone through a phase during which she blogged extensively on the subject and Michelle had skimmed a couple of the entries.) A romance novel heroine wouldn't have stood, bemused, for a moment, then replied with, "Huh? Oh, um... I'm not- Er, okay. Sure."

She crossed over as she finished, and snagged his hand just in time to join him in laughter. Their laughter carried over into the dance and soon it felt as though the last moment they had shared like this had never ended... No- that wasn't quite right, Michelle realized, even as she thought it. The last dance had been emotional, like this one, but that emotion had been raw and burning and almost painful. This one was brilliant and open and joyous, just as fast and sweeping, just as much like running, but this felt more like running into the arms of a hundred of your favorite people then running as fast as you can from a hoard of burning zombies. This dance wasn't one that tore away the layers until secrets were laid bare but one that peeled them gently back and then presented them, glowing and willing and gleeful, once they came to the surface. This dance was a celebration of transparency, not it's funeral- not a wildfire but a bonfire around which people sang, more like a fireworks display then the atom bomb. It was madness and it was completeness, oh, yes, it was glorious.

As the music ended, they crash-landed on the sofa, still laughing for the pure joy of it, Michelle still half in Julian's arms, feeling better then she'd felt in a long, long time. The song faded into something softer quieter, and, following it's example, they relaxed, their giddy joy settling into quiet contentment, their fondness for each other flowing like water so that they filled the room with it. And so quiet reigned, for a while, as each track of the CD - familiar and yet not, like something Michelle had heard too long ago and loved - until there was a click and a soft whir of machinery as the CD changed over to something else. Something much more recognizable.

Michelle stirred and looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Never pegged you for a Scissor Sisters fan, Julian," she said softly.

He laughed, blushing a little.

"It's Adric's," he said. "Or, rather, it was my birthday present from Adric, last year. He's a fan."

She snorted, softly, not quite believing him, but didn't say anything else. The Scissor Sisters turning first into the Kaiser Chiefs and then the Beastie Boys and then, inexplicably, into Billy Joel. A few tracks later, just as Flogging Molly shifted into John Lennon, Julian cleared his throat.

"Um, Michelle, look," he said.

"Yeah?" she prompted, when he didn't continue right away.

He paused before saying, "I like you."

Michelle smiled a little wider. "I like you, too, Julian."

"I mean..." He paused, trying to work out how best to frame his declaration. He had known the exact words he would say, mere hours before, but they had since deserted him, leaving only the unsettling impression of where they should have been. "I mean that I like you... quite a bit. That I am- interested in you. Attracted to you. Romantically inclined towards you, you might say."

There was a short pause. She leaned her head on his arm and held her breath until the urge to laugh had passed.

"I know that, Julian," she said, when she trusted her voice to remain steady. "I feel the same way."

"Oh." He smiled and the arm thrown across the back of the couch fell down, around her shoulders, squeezing, gently. "All right, then."

Queen had been singing the praises of fat-bottomed girls for over a minute when he spoke, again.

"So, are we going to...?" He gestured towards the staircase, trying to find the words to express himself in the most delicate fashion possible. He needn't have bothered, as Michelle knew perfectly well what he meant.

"No," she said.

He was silent, then, until the song gave way to something Michelle couldn't identify.

"Do you... I mean, do you want to?" he asked.

"It doesn't really matter whether I do or not," she replied. "We're not going to. Hey, who is this?"

"Huh?"

"This, playing now," she said. "I've had them all, up to this point, but this doesn't sound familiar." Though that wasn't precisely true. There was something tickling at the back of her brain, something trying to tell her, that if she could just remember... But it was gone.

"Oh." Julian's brow furrowed as he struggled to identify the music. "I'm not sure," he said. "Adric told me, once, but... We could ask him."

Michelle nodded, and began to struggle to her feet. He released her immediately, and watched as she stretched.

"All right," she said. "And on that note of unsatisfied curiosity, I ought to get going."

She vanished into the kitchen before he had a chance to respond and reappeared shortly with her bag slung over her shoulder and the book she'd been reading in hand. "See you tomorrow," she said, heading for the door. Her hand was on the knob by the time Julian found his voice, again.

"Adric called," he said, in a rush. She paused, listening. "Today. The truck's fixed. You can pick it up tomorrow"

She hesitated, then slowly nodded.

"All right," she said. "I'll do that. Night."

Julian breathed deep but couldn't manage more then a whisper as he replied, "Goodnight" to the empty space she had vacated. The click of the door closing echoing through the house was drowned out by the equally lingering sound of his head dropping back against the wall. He closed his eyes and listened to it fade into silence as his heart rate slowly returned to normal.

Outside, Michelle paused for a long moment, breathing in the warm night air. She closed her eyes for a moment, but just a moment- it wasn't safe for a young woman on the streets at night. She walked away from the house, quiet determination radiating from every inch of her tightly wound frame. She thought of Julian only briefly before shoving him into a box and that box onto a shelf alongside other loves long lost to time and distance and practicality, and turning her attention to where she might go next.

Inside, time went on and music played and the CD switched over twice while Julian sat motionless. Richard and James came back to find him in the same place, the room now filled with the sound bagpipes.



Andy arrived in Las Vegas around nine the next morning, furious and exhausted and looking worse then the zombies in the better-funded variety of horror movies. She filled up with gas just inside the city limits, cursing at Marty on her cell phone as the pump worked.

"Well fuck you, okay?" she snapped. "I didn't think of it, before, and I've thought of it now so could you please just stop being an asshole long enough to tell me."

"If you're going to be a bitch about it-"

"I said please, didn't I? Shall I say it again? Would you please just help me towards our common goal, oh master of the god damned universe, before I rip off your testicles and feed them to-"

"All right, just shut up for a second and I'll tell you."

She jotted down the address he gave her on her hand in bright red ink and hoped to whatever deity might favor her with a look that she was hearing him right- an unreliable signal coupled with his naturally incomprehensible style of speech and the numbers could have turned into anything. They signed off with minimal cursing and she took several deep breaths before heading into the gas station. Taking her bad mood out on Marty was one thing- taking it out on some asshole making minimum wage to sit behind a counter and wait to get robbed at gun point was another.

The asshole in question today was a blond boy who couldn't have been older then nineteen and Andy was still young enough to be disturbed by the idea of nineteen translating to 'infantile' in her head.

"Hey," she said, walking close enough to lay her hands on the counter. "How well do you know this town?"

He looked at her with cautious interest. "Pretty well," he said. "I've lived here all my life."

Andy did not point out exactly how little time that was, feeling it would be unnecessarily rude and possibly hypocritical. "Excellent," she said, instead. "Then do you think you could give me directions?"

"Depends." He still looked and sounded suspicious, like she was going to pull a gun, or maybe a whip, on him at any moment. "Where to? Casinos, hotels, a good dry cleaner, definitely. Anything else, I might not be able to help too much."

"Fair enough," she replied. "Can you tell me where number --- -------- Street is?"

He gave her a searching look, then rattled off surprisingly few directions. "That's how to get to the street," he said. "After that, you're on your own."



The truck looked good. It looked better then the last time Michelle had seen it, to tell the truth. Adric's immediate obsessive affection for it had deepened into something akin to true love by the time he was forced to return it to it's owner but, in the meantime, he had cleaned it top to bottom, changed and refilled anything that needed changing or refilling, and replaced the tired. All of this was done free of charge, without Michelle's knowledge- she would have insisted on paying for it, if she'd known. She would have known it the moment she looked it at, if she hadn't been so focused on getting the heck out of Las Vegas.

James had walked with her over to Adric's shop to pick it up. All the time he had looked at her in the same hard, searching way that Andy was, in her grimmest moments, capable of. It was a look that reminded Michelle that, however much she was tough and hated talking about her problems, she there was still that percentage of moments that she would spend untold amounts of time letting it all out over the phone or in some quiet corner of the school or sitting on the truck, eyes glued to the heavens that, at times like that, mirrored the color of her eyes. Michelle wasn't about to spill her guts to James, but if Andy had been there, she would have been sorely tempted.

He hadn't actually said anything, but it was only during this short journey that she gained an appreciation for the fact that Julian wasn't the only one of her new friends with eyes like lasers.

When they got back to the house, about a half hour after they left, Richard had just dragged himself out of bed and hadn't yet bothered to tame his hair or get dressed. It's a testament to exactly how far gone Michelle was that the sight of a mussed and bright-eyed Richard in exquisite dishabille barely merited it a sideways glance, let alone the full-blown flush such a thing would ordinarily have produced.

"For God's sake, Hamster, put a shirt on," James said, as the they entered the kitchen to find him sipping tea at the table across from Julian, who gave Richard a startled look, as though he hadn't noticed his lack until James mentioned it.

Richard gave James the finger, then looked at Michelle.

"So you're off, then?" he asked.

"I just need to check out of the hotel," she replied. "After that, I'm gone."

"Where to?" Julian asked, rather more quietly then he might have under other circumstances.

"San Francisco," she said, thoughtfully. "Maybe. There's some band out there..." She shook her head. "I don't know, really. Maybe."

Julian nodded, slowly, and looked up at her. "I guess that's it, then."

Michelle met his eyes, hesitantly. "I guess it is," she replied.

Richard glanced back and forth between them with an amused look. James folded his hands behind his back and looked at the ground. When the silence began to become oppressive, he started to speak. The unmistakable sound of a powerful machine burning outside cut off whatever remark he might have made. After another moment, an engine died with a growl that was pure menace and a door slammed like the Archangel Gabriel was in a snit and taking it out on his chariot. The shouting took another moment to begin, and immediately brought Julian and Richard to their feet. The four of them made for the door at the same time and, improbably, James made it first.

"-is here, so logically-*"

She was standing beside the most absurd vehicle Michelle had ever seen, her pigtails in disarray, the dye more faded then she'd normally allow, her clothes even more wrinkled and ill-cared-for than was usual. She dropped the phone when the door banged open and swung around, like she was ready to attack. The fire in her eyes immediately died into excited affection when she spotted Michelle coming out behind James.

"Hey, Andy," Michelle said, uncertainly.

"Hey, Shelly," she replied, then added, "Hang on just a sec." She grabbed the phone off the ground and spoke into it. "Operation Sephiroth has been a success. I'll call you back." She hung up and took a moment to turn the phone off before looking back at them and grinning. "How's it going?"

Michelle stared at her blankly for a moment. Andy held out her arm invitingly and she laughed, before running forward and hugging her.

"Operation Sephiroth?" she asked.

"He was playing Seven when we made up the codewords," Andy explained. "You're Aeris. I'm Red Thirteen. He's Cloud and not very happy about it."

They released each other and stepped back.

"Who are you're friends?" Andy asked, gesturing back at where James, Richard, and Julian were watching them with varying degrees of amusement and surprise. "And which one is the pimp?"

Michelle nudged her hard with her elbow, which just made her laugh, and introduced them.

"I'm sorry," Richard said, "but are you honestly driving a Diablo?"

Andy glanced back her absurd car and nodded, shortly. "Yeah," she replied. "And I don't advise it for day-to-day use. That shit doesn't like mountains. But it did take to the flatlands pretty well. Which reminds me." She wheeled around to stare at Michelle. "Las Vegas?" She sounded more bewildered than angry and her friend laughed.

"It wasn't really planned," she said. "But going from Chicago to Denver to where? It's logical. You like logic."

"Mr Spock wouldn't have screwed Captain Kirk over like this," Andy replied. "Or Doctor McCoy. Your Vulcan-Fu is weak."

"Mr Spock wouldn't drive that," Michelle said.

"Would so." They all stared at her until she rolled her eyes and explained with an air of condescension, as though they were all missing a point that was so obvious it pained her to have to waste the breath explaining it. "Mr Spock would most definitely drive a Diablo if he needed to cover the maximum ground in a minimum amount of time and his only choices were it and a very playful Volvo."

Michelle snorted and decided not to challenge her choice of adjective.

"What are you doing here, Andy?" she asked. "Come to tie me to the top of your stupid car and carry me home?"

Andy smiled at the visual, and folded her arms across her chest. "That's the plan," she said. "I've got rope in the back seat, so if you wouldn't mind climbing up..."

Michelle shook her head. "How'd you even find me?" she asked. "I mean, all I said was Vegas. Don't tell me you searched the whole city. Or that you got lucky."

"I haven't gotten lucky in so long..." She burst out laughing at the look on Michelle's face. "Hah. Easy," she said. "You told me dude's name," she continued, before Michelle say anything too derisive. "Marty dug up his address from somewhere and a very nervous gas station attendant gave me directions."

"Wow," Michelle said. "You and he really collaborated big-time on this."

"What else were we supposed to do?" she asked. "You were gone. We both give a shit about you. We both know people who are also miserable. We agreed that the mountains without Michelle in them are just not that great a place to be. Of course it's entirely possible that I'm romanticizing the hell out of our association and my parents were paying him off or he had a similarly unscrupulous motive for all this, but that's how I felt about it and who am I to argue if someone wants to help me out – even someone with whom I have such an – er – tumultuous history with?"

Michelle laughed, again. "I've missed you," she said.

Andy's smile became full-blown affection, now, and she replied, "I've missed you, too. Now. Home?"

Michelle looked at her, hair and clothing askew, eyes brilliant and full of the exhaustion that had spent too much time stuffed in sacks by adrenaline. She looked at the sincerity and the affection and complete lack of resentment and hostility and wondered, once again, if she ought to feel guilty about how quick Andy was to forgive. The, she gave a deep, happy, yet wistful sight, and met those guilless eyes.

"Well, Andy," she said. "I just don't think so. Not yet, anyways."

Andy cocked her head slowly to one side. She frowned, eyes darkening with concentration and the final wall of tiredness broke as she realized this leg of her journey was at an end. And then she smiled, again, softer then before, saying, "Marty's going to throw a fit. But I really don't care. Hang on just a minute, all right?"

She pulled her cell phone back out of her pocket and circled around the car as she dialed.

"Hey, V," she said. "It's me. Have you got a minute?"

Michelle turned away and looked at where Julian, James, and Richard were still standing. She went over to them, smirking.

"Is she everything you hoped for?" she asked.

"She's... something," James said.

Julian nodded. "That's a good word for it," he said.

Michelle grinned. "She's harmless," she said. "Mostly harmless, anyway."

She looked briefly at James, who looked back at her, knowingly. He then nudged Richard and they wandered over to the Diablo.

"Hey, Andy?" Richard called. She looked up at his distractedly from where she'd made her way across the yard. "You mind?" he asked, gesturing to the car. She gave him a thumbs up, then turned back to her conversation. He opened the door and got in the drivers seat. James leaned against the door, shielding Julian and Michelle from view, as he and Richard began to inspect the car's interior.

Michelle looked back at Julian and smiled. He tried to return the favor but faltered. Tried again and failed spectacularly and then gave up. She only smiled wider and sadder and said, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, softly. "I know." He lifted a hand as if to touch her face and hesitated, gazing deep into her eyes. She nodded imperceptibly and he carefully grazed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. When she leaned into his touch, his mouth went dry.

For a long moment, there was nothing else. Just him and her and the space between them- the rest of the world ceased to exist. All that mattered was this feeling between them, this draw, this desire, this feeling of knowing exactly that what you're feeling is exactly what the other person is feeling and the realization that, though you will soon be miles away, you're never really alone because in this world there will always be another heart beating along with yours.

And then the moment was gone. Julian hissed in a breath and stepped back. "This is goodbye, then," he said, holding out a hand.

"Yeah," she said. "Goodbye." She took it and squeezed. Just for a second. Then she let go, and turned to go to her truck.

Andy was standing by the door, off the phone now, watching her with eyes that had never been so bottomless. She opened the door for her with extravagant courtesy and said, "Good luck never ceases to amaze. Viv's in Denver. So, henceforth, I'm in Denver. Cool, huh?"

"Pretty cool," Michelle agreed, and made to shut the door.

The world came to a stand still when Julian shouted.

"Wait," he said. Then shook it off. Tried to sound casual, tried to stay measured as he walked over to the truck. Andy took maybe a quarter step back to accommodate him and observed him, eyes never more focused then now as she observed the man who had given himself over so completely to her oldest friend.

"I could..." He paused, as though trying to think of some way to say it that didn't sound hopelessly needy and pathetic. Gave it up as impossible within moments. "I could go with you," he said.

His eyes met hers, again, so deep and brilliant and beautiful that she could feel herself slipping away, getting lost in their impossible cerulean depths, sinking deeper and deeper. How easy it would be to say yes. . . But it turned out she didn't have to say anything at all.

A hand was on his shoulder, larger and darker and with nails more bitten down then Michelle's had been since she got there.

"No," Andy said. "I think this is something she should do on her own."

Julian stared down at her, this purple-haired stranger who looked at him with more bemusement then condemnation and then looked back at Michelle, pleadingly. But her eyes were on Andy, too, and before he could look back, to see what might have passed between them in the meantime, Michelle was laughing again and Andy was patting his shoulder casually as she maneuvered him as subtlely as possible out of the way. He stepped back without realizing it as she climbed up to lean in close to Michelle's ear.

"I drive all this way out here," she muttered, "thinking I'm coming to save you from all your demons and darkness and personal hellfire, and here I find you're pretty much the only one of that doesn't need saving. What's up with that?"

Michelle couldn't help it – she laughed, again, and Andy had hopped down and was shooing Richard and James out of the car before she could reply.

Just before she got in herself, she turned to James and muttered something that made him snort, then turned towards Michelle as he backed off. "You've got my cell number, right?" she called over.

Michelle flashed her a thumbs up and she nodded.

"Excellent. See you all in Olam Ha-Ba. One hopes."

In a rush of unaccustomed power, she was gone. And, shortly there after, so was Michelle, leaving only the three men standing in the front lawn staring after them. And, for quite some time after that, there was only one.



Julian tried calling Michelle more then once in the weeks that followed her departure. He lasted all of three days before the first time, and then every other day for a full three weeks. And then nothing. She never picked up.

She got the calls – there was no problem with that. The phone sat on the seat next to her, settled in a nest of jacket so ensure it wouldn't slide away from her. She saw his name on the ID and told herself she would pick up the next time, call back when she stopped. She sat in motel rooms all along the Western Coast and stared at his name entered into her speed dial, her thumb stroking casually over the 'call' button until she could reasonably say it was too late to call and shut off the light.

As for Julian, it was never too late. He was up at odd hours, reading and drinking tea, buying the expensive stuff long after James and Richard had bugged off to where ever it was they were supposed to meet their third, Richard with a smile and a wave, James with a searching look and a muttered demand he take care of himself. Julian just shrugged him off.

But he did take care of himself.

Time went on and he stopped calling. He didn't forget and didn't stop hoping but life went on. He signed a new contract and started getting ready for another long stay in Canada, checking through his clothes to see if anything needed replacing and figuring out a new way to bribe Adric into caring for his car while he was gone. Adric didn't need bribing, but it helped.

Life goes on. But still, he never forgot.

And then, not three days before he was scheduled to leave, he was sitting in that sun-drenched kitchen, in the chair where he'd so often sat talking about everything and nothing with his brief guest, flipping through yet another new script – the fourth since he'd signed onto the damned project – the phone rang.
.

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