A/N: I really like this little show. I'm not sure what it is, but I find the characters adorable. This is probably gonna be a multi chapter, and I really appreciate any and all comment or suggestions.

Paris was quiet. Well, maybe not quiet, people chattered in a language he couldn't understand. Talking about what? Baguettes? Coffee? He didn't really know. He was just uncomfortably out of place, alone in a sea of people. For the first time in his life he felt truly lonely.

And it wasn't Georgie's fault. She was just as affectionate as before, just as loving. Her hair still smelled like flowers when he buried his nose in it. Something called gardenias she'd told him. But it was different. There was nothing for him here. When she wasn't around, which was pretty often, he had nothing to do. He'd lounged around the tiny parisian apartment until he'd been driven totally stir crazy, finally setting out to explore the city on his own.

He'd stuck out like a sore thumb. The impossibly tall American, nodding in confusion when people deigned to speak to him. What people said about the French hating americans wasn't true. Well, not entirely anyway. Most people broke into heavily accented english when he finally did speak to them, some even smiling in pity at his inability to communicate in their native tongue.

Georgie's friends were the real problem. They were the only people he got to see on a regular basis, and they intentionally spoke in rapidly sibilant words that he couldn't even begin to comprehend, casting him sideways glances before tittering into their hands. Georgie always replied in an amused tone, clearing her throat slightly before she translated for him.

He could see that she felt torn, and he couldn't blame her for trying to settle into her new life. But this wasn't working for him. He missed New York, and his loud and over-involved family. He felt so homesick that at first he'd actually thought he was coming down with something, begging Georgie to take his temperature.

He'd started skyping with his mother right away, trying to find a good time for both of them, the six hour time difference only making it a little difficult. And it was ok, for a while, their weekly chats alleviating some of the ache in his chest. But it didn't take long for his mother to point out that she was the only person he ever talked to. Yes, he missed his brother… and Riley, but it was too difficult seeing them knowing what he knew.

Right new, Bonnie was giving him one of her patented looks, one eyebrow arched slightly, her mouth turned down a little in disappointment. The intensity of the look wasn't damped one bit by the span of an ocean. "Honey, I thought you'd moved on."

Her pitying tone was enough to send him straight into denial mode. "Of course, Mom. I moved all the way to Paris." Sometimes his penchant for being a little too literal was helpful. He could pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. The last thing in the world he wanted to hear about was Ben and Riley. He didn't have to be told what a picture they made, with Emma, the perfect little family. It was an image he hadn't been able to get out of his head since they'd bade him goodbye at the airport.

He decided it was time to end the call. "Alirght, I have to go, Georgie's got a thing. Tell everyone I love them."

"Everyone?" There it was again, that all knowing look. He prayed she'd keep her meddling under control. She only wanted what was best for her children, but her good intentions rarely ended well.

"Of course."

She sighed. "Are you happy, son? And don't lie to me, Danny. I'm your mother, I have special powers. I will know."

He smiled a little sadly into the camera. "Of course, I'm happy, and I hope everyone else is too." Bonnie wasn't the only one who could cast some pretty telling looks. He hoped she got the message and dropped it.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping dramatically. "Look, I think there's something-"

He cut her off. This conversation was exactly what he'd been avoiding for the past two months. "I really do have to go, Mom. I love you, and I'll call you again in a couple days. Kiss Emma for me."

She snapped her mouth shut, nodding. He almost thought she was gonna keep her opinions to herself, but before he could end the call she burst into speech. A cascade of words tumbling from her mouth. "Ben and Riley are terrible together. They fight all the time, and Ben is still too immature for a real relationship, and I think you should just come back because you look miserable. And what the hell do you do all day anyway while little miss fancy pants british
Vogue editor galavants around with her fancy pants friends? Huh? And, Danny, are you really gonna throw your career away to follow some girl around like a puppy dog? Training camp starts in a few weeks, you do have a contract to keep."

She only stopped because she ran out of breath, panting as she got to the end. This time she pursed her lips together, fighting back tears. "We miss you, sweetheart. Is it really worth it?"

Why was she doing this to him? Bringing up things that hurt? He didn't know what he was doing. At the time it had seemed like a wonderful idea. And he had to get away. He hadn't really planned very far ahead, just assuming that his new relationship would continue to grow, would continue to push the relentless ache in his chest away. "I do… stuff, Mom."

His voice was thick with emotion, a lump suddenly forming in his throat. He couldn't continue, afraid that he would admit a few things to his mother that he hadn't even said aloud to himself. "I know I have to think seriously about… those other things, ok, and I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

His mother nodded, a tiny smile of satisfaction finally gracing her features. "Alright, son, I'll talk to you later. I love you."

"I love you, too."

The call ended, and Danny was left alone in the quiet apartment, with unfilled hours stretching before him. He took a deep breath, rising from the chair, carefully sitting the laptop aside. He had to get out of here, stretch his legs, fill his lungs with fresh air.

Snatching up his ipod, he strode out the door. If there was one good thing about Paris, it was that for the most part if you wanted to be ignored, people totally ignored you.