Disclaimer: I do not own anything familiar, your sad pseudo Mexican food included.

girl you just can't dance forever

Her hands are in her pockets
And she's scared to look
The picture's frozen
And she's closed the book

My burrito was depressed.

I realize that's a rather weird to think, but then again my life is rather weird. My name is Cassie Palmer, and in just the last few days I've introduced my father and mother to each other, developed a dislike towards any cherry clothing, become a one-woman zombie movie, made some deals with some demons, become a motivational speaker, been sold into the sex slavery trade, and hung out with Merlin...both of them.

And yet, the most distressing thing to me right now that was my burrito was definitely depressed. I poked the sodden lettuce, unsurprised when my finger caused a canyon, causing the burrito to not just be depressed, but to be shocked about it as well.

I heard the knock on the door, but considering who I figured it might be, I definitely decided my sad companion needed my attention more. There was a second knock, then the door to my room opened and one more reminder of my weird life slipped in.

John Pritkin, who was probably the craziest person ever, which was good, because he was also the person who probably kept me alive the most. He was also one of the first people who had inspired a new trend of "not letting go" in my usual "everyone leaves so don't get attached" philosophy.

Despite how much...closer we had gotten lately, he just leaned against the door for a moment while I studiously contemplated my burrito. I could only imagine what he saw: a skinny, unkept blonde dressed in clothes that had definitely seen better days, staring morosely at a burrito who definitely had never seen a good day, while sitting on the bed in a blackened room, the only light coming from the window with no shades. I heard a sigh and then footsteps coming towards me.

"Cassie?" He took the food out of my hands, hesitating to see if I would fight him. I didn't, so he sit it gingerly on the bed beside me and then crouched to see my face. I averted my eyes, choosing to instead stare at the carpet beneath his boots instead. It was very blue. Or was the proper term turquoise?

A finger came to my chin and gently tilted my head up until I was looking into Pritkin's green eyes, something that I usually liked but really didn't want to do. I looked at his chin instead. He let out a huff. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know what to do." I hated how weak I sounded. If there was something I had learned in the months since I've become Pythia, chief clairvoyant and authorize time traveler, it was that I was strong, and somehow I was doing better than anyone expected, least of all myself. And yet…

Pritkin moved in closer, and I reached up to trace his cheeks, letting my hands slide down to his shoulders. "What's wrong?" He repeated, hands tracing my sides and hips.

"I messed up, and you're going to have to pay for it." I clenched my fingers in his shirt, afraid beyond reason he was going to finally wise up and run away, and irrationally happy when he instead just shifted closed, knees against the bed and body between my legs. Somehow, this crazy, caffeine craving warmage had decided I was someone he wasn't ever giving up on.

The feeling was mutual.

So I told him what was wrong.

Other than his hands tightening, he didn't react at all. I was mildly impressed.

"So...as I said, I don't know what to do."

He snorted. "Nothing. You are under no obligation to attempt that."

"But, Pritkin! If I don't, he's gonna ruin everything you tried to keep private!" I felt more than saw his shoulders shrug, and clenched tighter. "I know you never wanted anyone to find out!"

"I'm lucky I managed to hide it as long as I did." He sounded calm, but I couldn't believe he wasn't freaking out.

"But you like your privacy! Your life would be ruin. It's too high a cost to be with m-" And I shut up, but by the way his head shot up, he knew how I was going to finish that sentence. His hands clenched, but he pressed his lips firmly to my forehead.

"No price is worth giving you up." His voice was quiet, but I felt myself blinking back tears anyways. I let my head fall onto his shoulders, and his hands moved to hold me.

I don't know how long we sat like that, but it was long enough that I felt guilty about the possibility of his legs numbing. I pulled away just enough to indicate he should sit beside me. He did, but only after putting the burrito out of its misery in the nearest trashcan.

"Are you sure?" I asked him quietly.

He picked up my hand and traced it, letting the shivers slide down my spine. "Do what you need to do, Cassie. I'm here either way."

I kissed him then and stood up. "You better be." I walked to the door.

I had someone to talk to.