Bonjour Madames and Monsieurs! Je mappelle readergrl56...

And that's all I know in the delicate language of the French (besides a few choice swear words). Still, I can become one of those lovely tourists who shouts around in their native language, expecting everyone to understand them. Tres bon!

Enjoy!

"I need to tell you something." A light blush grazed Ino's cheeks as she spoke. "I love you. I have ever since we were children. I don't know where it came from, or when I suddenly felt it, but now it's consumed me. You are my everything."

Shikamaru stared at her. "Don't say anything more," he said. "I know you love me. I think I've known it even before you did. That's when I first started loving you. You are worth more than anything to me."

Ino gasped. "B-but, how did you know? I thought I hid it so well."

"I knew it in my heart, my mind, my entire spirit … Ino, do I really have to read this crap?" Shikamaru sighed, looking down at his highlighted script.

Ino punched him in the shoulder. "Of course you do. This is my first major role in a TV drama! I get to play the childhood friend-turned-prostitute of one of the patients." Her eyes turned starry from the romance of the storyline. "We're reading my pivotal scene, where I'm lying in a hospital bed tragically sick with pneumonia. If I play this well enough, I may get called back for a recurring role."

Shikamaru smirked. "Only if they feature ghosts in recurring roles." He flipped to the back of the script. "Looks like the pneumonia gets you in the end. But, happy ending, you give your blessing to Lover Boy so he can date one of the doctors."

"What!" Ino screeched. She dove on top of Shikamaru and grabbed the script from his hand, frantically searching for the page he indicated. When she saw that it was true, she slumped on the couch. "This was supposed to be my big debut, and instead I get stuck playing a hooker with a bad cold!"

Shikamaru could see two possible outcomes of this revelation. One, Ino would sink down into one of her infamous "woe is me" depressions. For a few days, sometimes weeks, any friends in her vicinity would be subjected to impassioned monologues, high-calorie binges, and sappy movies. After exhausting all negative emotions, Ino would become highly over-confident and regain her signature strut. The second option would be Ino succeeding in reassuring herself of her many positive attributes and skip right to the haughty stage of recovery. For his sake, Shikamaru preferred the latter. Plus, Ino probably would start sobbing in the same spot she heard the bad news, and Shikamaru didn't own nearly enough tissues to save his couch.

"Look," he said, mental cogs whirring, "this is better than a recurring role. People get tired of characters after a while; they overstay their welcome. But, as a little character, you can appeal to almost everyone. There's not enough background on you for you to be an offensive character—besides the prostitute part—and nowadays people won't even blink at the thought of a hooker on screen. Plus, you get a tragic love story. There's not many things people like better than love and death."

If Ino's eyes were starry before, it was nothing compared to the cosmos that erupted in them due to Shikamaru's logic. Imagine it: marking television forever with just one appearance. Fans would fall in love with her. Stories would be written about her fictional childhood, or be set in an alternate universe where she lived and found happiness. Her death would leave a psychological rift in the main characters of the drama, making them forever remember the little whore that almost was. She might even get to do a reappearance after all, as one of those "five people you meet in heaven" type of things if one of the main characters has a near-death experience. The possibilities were endless!

Shikamaru sank into the couch, exhausted with the effort of keeping Ino mentally stable.

"Ok, ok," Ino gushed, happy with the new potential that her role could bring. "I really need to master this. I should focus on the heavy, emotional bits. Well, I should focus on all the bits, but these scenes are really what's going to punch them in the gut. Let's practice my death scene." She read over the lines, memorizing them as she went. Luckily, there were only a few, since there was plenty of room for labored pauses, heavy with impending death. Ino had to work hard to prevent herself from squealing with glee.

"Looks like I'm lying in my hospital bed and you, Mr. Recovered Patient, are sitting in a chair next to me, grieving." She promptly set the scene by shoving Shikamaru onto the floor and occupying the entire couch. "Get on your knees so you're at a better level," she ordered.

Once Shikamaru was settled, Ino went limp, her breathing labored and eyes watery. "This is it. The doctors told me I'll be gone any minute now."

Shikamaru tried to slouch, but was reprimanded almost immediately. Never one for straight spines, he opted to lean over her.

Ino appreciated his effort to be in character, so she motioned for him to grasp her hand. She contemplated forcing him to cry, but decided not to waste the energy.

"You'll make it. I know you will," Shikamaru read. "There's got to be something I can do. Maybe if I get Kamiko, she can help. Maybe give you medicine or … something."

"No," Ino turned her head to gaze at him, smiling weakly. "I'm fine. Honestly, it doesn't even hurt anymore." She promptly disproved herself with a wince of pain. "I don't want you to worry. Forget about me and live your life. I was merely a chapter: a chapter that's about to end. But the book hasn't finished. You need to continue. Make a new chapter, one that stars Kamiko."

"Never." Shikamaru was surprised to find himself whispering. "I will always love you."

Ino attempted a smile, but it turned into a grimace. "And I will always love you." She pushed herself up, trembling violently. Her head felt like a giant weight as she raised it, helped by Shikamaru's light but steady touch. Her hand slipped out of his grasp to align on the base of his ponytail, guiding him down. Their lips met in a final kiss. The end was marked when Ino went limp, head resting on Shikamaru's shoulder, arms dangling uselessly by her sides.

Shit. Was it possible to make fiction a reality? Ino, for one, was praying for her own imminent death. She felt her cheeks flaring red, but refused to open her eyes. She had just kissed Shikamaru. Why did she do that? Did she get too far into character? It was her job as an actress, but Shikamaru wasn't an actor. He wasn't in character. Oh God, she had just forced a kiss on him. A nonconsensual kiss. Ino was a lip molester. She would have to go around to her various friends and hand out flyers, warning them never to help her practice a dialogue. Oh, the humiliation.

Bravely, Ino slowly opened her eyes. Her victim was staring at her and, she realized, still holding her. Not exactly a comfortable position; every touch caused her flesh to burn. She tried to think up an indiscreet way for him to drop her, but a second glance at his face stopped any effort. It was as red, if not redder, than her own. Ino was transfixed by the rare display of emotion. They stayed there, staring, until Shikamaru jerked suddenly and dropped Ino on the couch.

"Um," she said, attempting to diffuse the awkwardness, "I think that's all we should do for this scene." Her companion nodded. "Why don't I work on one of my sarcastic banters with the doctors, ok? A little comic relief to ease the tension …" She broke off, stopping herself from digging an even bigger hole.

"Yeah," said Shikamaru, distracted. "Wouldn't want to spend all of our time just on the crappy dramatic dialogue now would we?"

Smiling, Ino smacked him on the same shoulder as before. "Shut up. Now, open the script. I need to rehearse."

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