A/N: Here we go again... let's see if I can finish this one. Feedback is appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own it... Duh!

I've never felt so alone in my entire life, sitting in that huge room with all those people. I felt so worthless. I felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders and there was no running away this time. The airport was busy on this Thursday, and as I waited for my flight from New York to Germany I was sure I was going to pee my pants. I didn't want to go; not like this. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I wanted something, anything, to make me feel like this wasn't happening. What I didn't realize until I was sitting on that plane was that I was, in fact, already running. How do you spend so many years with one person and have so many feelings for one person and then just run away like this? If I thought about it, I couldn't remember why I was running so far away.

Maybe I should introduce myself before I go on chattering about my problems. My name is Rita Johnson and I work for the CDC. Of course, it isn't the dream job of my childhood, but I had wanted to work with viruses. I guess I got my wish in the end. If you remember one thing about me, remember this: I am not happy and I haven't been for a very long time. I'm not happy with anything anymore. I grew up on a Naval Base in California with my father, two brothers, sister, and evil stepmother, Dana. My mother died when I was very little and I can't remember her at all. My father was a pilot in the Navy, a Captain. He'd been all over the world and left my siblings and me with Dana constantly.

I was a miserable child. I never talked much and the only thing I ever seemed to show interest in was music. I loved to sing and to play the piano. I taught myself how to play the guitar and the violin. I spent hours in front of the piano, playing songs I'd heard on the radio by ear until I could do it with almost no error. Dana hated my music. When I think about it now, I think she might have been jealous. She was good for nothing. She couldn't even cook. She'd give my older sister money to go to the grocery store and then force her to cook, clean, and do the laundry. I would help occasionally but I was never good at common household tasks. Usually I would sit behind the piano and provide my family with background music while they performed their various tasks. I would play until Dana came up behind me and smashed my fingers with the lid.

I never did well in school and I had problems socializing. I didn't have many friends and that's the way I was until our new next door neighbors moved in. On one rare occasion when my father was actually home he sat my siblings and I down to explain who the people next door were. I can't rightly remember the rank of the man of the house but I know he was higher than my father.

"I want you all to be very nice to the new neighbors. The father is a pilot too and I know that their boy will appreciate some friends here." He gave a pointed stare to my brothers and then looked to my sister and I, "I want you to make them something, cookies or something, and take them over. Introduce our family and make friends. I have to go to work."

I remember looking at my sister and being petrified. I wasn't scared of making cookies or even leaving them with the new neighbors, I was afraid of meeting them. Many of the people who lived in our neighborhood where not interested in getting to know the people around them. Often the houses were up for sale so often it seemed like people barely had time to move in before they were off again. There were hardly ever any other children on the base.

Rebecca, my sister, made some chocolate chip cookies and wrapped them up in tin foil, not allowing anyone else to have one. She worked hard on those cookies, obviously wanting to impress the neighbors. I couldn't understand why my sister and my father had taken such an interest in impressing these people. I understood by the time we reached their house.

Becky rang the doorbell and a nice looking woman answered. She smiled broadly and motioned us in, "You two must be from next door. I'm Blythe House. Please, come in."

We walked in and I remember being in awe of all the boxes. It looked like the family owned a whole department store and they were trying to pack it all into one tiny house. Becky did all the talking and I just stood there with my mouth open; I'd seen their piano. It was beautiful. It took up a lot of the room, sitting it the corner; a baby grand. I'd never seen one in person before and I'd only seen one on television maybe twice. I immediately wanted to touch it but I wasn't completely socially inept, I knew to keep my distance. I just looked at it longingly.

"I'm Rebecca Johnson and this is my little sister Rita. We live next door. I brought you guys some cookies." I remember glancing at Blythe while Becky held out the cookies. She looked surprised, like she couldn't believe a sixteen-year-old and a fourteen-year-old were capable of this. Blythe led us back to the kitchen and set the cookies on the counter, unwrapping them.

"Mom, I can't find my records. Where'd you put the box?" Suddenly there was a boy. It seemed as if he had come out of nowhere.

"I don't know, honey. We'll find them. Come have a cookie. These two lovely young ladies from next door brought them. Greg, this is Rebecca and Rita." I looked up at Blythe and was sure she couldn't be talking about me. She winked at me and proceeded to get three glasses out of the cupboard and fill them with milk from the fridge, setting the cookies on a plate and putting them on the kitchen table.

"Come on girls. Have a seat and eat some of these cookies, there are far too many for the three of us. You'll have to help us eat them." She was just about the coolest mom I had ever seen. Dana would have never done something like this for us. She would have eaten all the cookies herself, most likely.

Greg didn't seem nervous, he jumped up on a chair and grabbed a cookie and a glass, "Are these chocolate chip? Man! That's my favorite!" He proceeded to shove the whole cookie in his mouth and take a huge gulp of his milk.

Blythe motioned to the two other chairs at the table and smiled at us, "Gregory, manners please."

Greg belched loudly and then looked sideways at his mother, "Um, 'scuse me."

Becky and I got the memo and sat down. I took the smallest cookie I could see and nibbled on it. I think Greg gave me a look similar to someone inspecting some unknown animal. Becky slid into the chair next to Greg and smiled at him. I knew then that I would be seeing more of that boy. My sister wasn't going to let him out of her grasp until she was done with him. I, on the other hand, didn't give him a passing glance. I can't even remember if I noticed his electric blue eyes, or his long and graceful fingers, or the funny way he smirked instead of smiling. All I knew was I wanted to be in that house more. I wanted Blythe to like me and I wanted to play that damn piano.