A/N: This prompt was too good to let it go, so here I am, stepping out of my comfort zone. I hope I managed to do it justice. Thanks to Steffi for the quick beta-reading!

I sit restlessly, shifting a bit uncomfortably on the bar stool. This place is crowded, too much for my taste. And some of the guys in here are so young that I could easily be their grandma. I feel out of place, I feel nervous and my unsettled gaze peeps around in search for the only missing person that could make me feel better. Or maybe not. My hands are sweaty. I want to drink something but it feels like a betrayal. I stare at the bartender's busy hands, biting forcefully my lower lip to prevent myself from opening the celebration without her. It's been 10 years since that night. 10 years since she left Chicago, burning down every bridge again for the second time. Or maybe more. Has Kalinda been just Leela? Or someone else before? It's one of the many things I'll never be allowed to know. I still don't know where she lives now, or what she does for a living. She's always been an infinitely resourceful and equally enigmatic personality.

"Need company?"

I'm startled out of my thoughts. I would recognize that voice among millions... I turn around, my heart throbbing so fast that it hurts. I'm astounded at first, I barely recognize her. Her hair is down and shorter. I remember seeing her only once with her hair loose and I have to close my eyes for a millisecond to efface that image. It's the fleeting memory of a reality that I strived so hard to persuade myself that it never existed… I smile sweetly. Words are unnecessary. I'm thrilled, yet overawed as she leans closer and hugs me. It's a gesture I'm not expecting and that I return with a certain hesitation. Ten years… the same lightly exotic smell, the same touch, the same clashing, ambiguous feelings… Ten years elapsed and it's like she never left.

I pull gently from her embrace and invite her to take the seat next to mine.

"You haven't changed a bit," she observes, eyeing me up and down. And I know that there's no concealed meaning behind her compliment. I look down at my elegant suit. I didn't change in my appearance but I couldn't be any more different from the woman she used to know. That satin ribbon that used to keep together the pieces of my fragile and complicated existence has been cut long ago. No longer weak, no longer breakable. Still selfish but in a different, more mindful way. I learned that a bit of healthy cynicism can't do any harm. Actually, the night that was supposed to mark the beginning of the fall was the night that set me free.

"And you changed a lot," I attempt with a smile. I'm suddenly eager to know what I missed out on all these last years. I feel like I missed something. I feel like I missed everything. She doesn't look like Kalinda anymore, yet those dark deep eyes tell me that behind that sober look there is still the same passionate, unfathomable woman.

Kalinda acknowledges my words with a smile but doesn't answer. Instead, she gestures at the bartender to pour tequila for both of us. The meager conversation should be discouraging, awkward, but the stolen glances fill the silence more than words will ever do.

"How long will you stay?" I ask on instinct. It doesn't matter in the end. One night, one week, where's the difference? It has taken her a single minute, give or take, to cripple ten years of effort. I suddenly feel weak and fragile again.

"A few days," Kalinda's answer is a non-answer.

So typical.

I do wonder if she's here for me or if I'm just a collateral benefit, but I refrain from asking. Instead I look at the enticing liquid in front of me and raise the small glass, while trying to come up with a toast that's worth ten years of wait. I muse for a moment over what tied us together over all this time. In this I realize that she's the only relationship that hasn't left an aftertaste of bitterness in my life. Confusion, mess, twisting disarray. But even at our worst, even when at odds, there has never been a shadow of bitterness. She has turned my life upside down in a way I could never imagine being possible. Till the night she left. It was necessary, inevitable. And we both knew it.

One too many shots, one too many laughs, one thing leads to another… Before we could realize what was happening, it had already happened. Ashamed but not regretful. Shaken but not appalled. We crossed that thin line that two friends should never allow themselves to cross. We became a tangled up, undecipherable muddle of mixed, irreconcilably clashing feelings.

"To life changing fortuities…" I say as I raise my glass. Somehow, the words lose a lot of their substance when spoken. But Kalinda nods and stares at me with what looks like approval.

"To newly-found old friends," Kalinda adds with a smile, as she raises her glass to meet mine in a clink that gets engulfed by the chaotic chatter surrounding us.

Friends.

I nod lightly and drink up all the liquid, enjoying its burning taste. It's what I needed. Warming, slackening. I feel my senses finally getting some relief and a light, uneasy laugh escapes my throat. Friends. It's one of those words whose meanings and limits are indefinable, yet existent. And I know we broke at least one of those limits ten years ago but still we are friends.

She glances at me with eyes that enthrall and I have to look away, for I already know what she's offering. I need more alcohol. I need more tequila to find the bravery to meet that hypnotizing gaze again. I gesture at the bartender and another shot is gone before he has even the time to look up at me. I sigh deeply. I'm nervous as I struggle to silence, to drown in the alcohol, all the cells of my body screaming at me that it's going to happen. I recognize the feeling. I dread it and crave it at the same time. I know it's wrong, yet it feels right.

She smiles knowingly but her eyes betray her own hesitation. It's been long. We were different. We are even more different now. Still, my head nods imperceptibly and I realize that I have no control over my body. And her hand that moves, slowly, then brushes mine is like a jolt with bare feet.

My integrity loses its conscience and I follow her with the gaze first. I regain some lucidity – or lose it completely? - then stand up to follow her out of here and wherever she's going to lead me. I don't ask, for she wouldn't answer anyway. Within minutes we are walking into a building I can't recognize. Not that it matters for I lost my orientation a few blocks ago anyway.

I take in her silent invitation and walk into the dark apartment. I don't have time to adjust to the dim light or the unfamiliar surroundings. Her hands and mouth are already on me. I let her pleasure my body and feed my need for her. Her selfless devotion heals my loneliness. I missed her but I know I'm not allowed to voice my feelings. And I wouldn't dare to, anyway. I return the attentions with bliss and gratitude, till we both lay down spent and satiated. My gaze is fixed on the ceiling, enraptured by the car's headlights playing tricks of light. I feel her hand play with my hair and look down to meet her gaze. She's smiling and in the shadow I see the sparkling in her dark eyes.

"Happy anniversary," she whispers.