A/N: Originally, this was going to be a one-shot. But I decided to break it down into short chapters. I was also, originally, going to wait until I had finished writing the entire thing before posting it. But then, it's Valentine's Day, and I thought, it would be perfect to post the first chapter now, so that you can all see what I've been working. And that I haven't forgotten about the Recess section, and my Recess fanfic readers. To which, I should probably apologize, I'm really, really, really, really sorry that all I've been updating is Rocket Power fics. I just got an itch, and had to scratch. Sorry.

Um, so...oh, this was also supposed to be a New Years Eve story, but that changed, as I hadn't written it fast enough (nor developed the story fast enough). So now, it's just a love story.

Summary: This takes place after Where the Skeletons Lie. If you haven't read it, don't fret. You'll probably just be asking, "What's going on with all the characters? Why is this like this, and such and such?"...yeah, I try and explain where I can but...onto the Summary! While in Greece, Francis tells Ashley Q. an interesting story about a particular rock. Now, Ash goes out on a man-hunt...but will she find the one thing she's never experience; love? Or just turn up fling after fling?

Yay! Finally! A non-TJ/Spin centric fanfic! I knew I could do it...I just knew I could...

Oh, and pertaining to Killing the Daisies. I may just write out the last chapters and update it all at once. Or not. I haven't decided. I'm actually thinking of renovating the ending, I may not, but I may. I don't know. Um...this is only going to be maybe three, four chapters long. And I'll try and get them written and posted asap. I'll work on it first and foremost, nothing else...maybe. No guarantees. I won't update anything else until this is finished, how's that?

Oi...um...ENJOY!

Kiss Me At Midnight

Chapter 1: Aphrodite's Rock

Bright lights bristled along the dusty gravel roads, illuminating a quiet couple making their way up the street, silently pacing side-by-side. Houses lined the walk, ancient structures with paper thin walls and a structural integrity that gave the impression it would collapse within itself any moment. But they held. The streets were unusually bustling, with a small crowd. The couple was handsome, a young man and woman; both brunette and healthy. The woman was beautiful, her hair falling in layered curls, her eyes a bright blue. She wore large jeans, rolled at the cuffs, and a soft, powder blue t-shirt that was long in length but pulled tautly around her chest and stomach. Her skin was slightly colored, from an obviously healthy exposure to the sun and she wore little more than glimmering lip gloss on her face. Her companion was taller, his hair mussed slightly. He too was dressed in baggy jeans, brown in color, and was wearing a black vintage tee, decaled with the emblazoned emblem of the band Guns n' Roses, and despite the warm weather, he was wearing a long brown trench coat.

They were solemn faced, the woman wearing a soft smile, the man shyly walking beside her his eyes downcast. She paused at a stand along the street, looking over the multiple fabrics on display.

"Come on, Ashley," the man said, "I thought you wanted to see some sights."

"I know, I know…" the woman, Ashley, muttered, running her hands over a smooth cotton shawl before returning it and turning her attention on a small knit scarf, "You're such a prude, Francis. I'm only looking. I know you need to meet this buyer on time tonight, but still…"

"There's better shopping elsewhere," Francis interrupted, "I'll take you there later."

"Later, you keep saying later…" Ashley teased. They'd arrived in Cyprus, Greece nearly three days before, and kept trying to make plans that kept getting pushed back because of Francis's business. He'd planned on meeting with his buyer on the first night, so that he could get that over and done with and show Ashley a good time in Greece, but the buyer had to bail. And continued to bail, and reschedule, and bail, and so on. It was annoying, but Francis was a business man and these were the ways of business. He had to be patient if he wanted to make a good sell.

When they'd landed in Greece, the first words to escape Ashley's lips was a comment on how she'd never been to Cyprus. She'd been astounded by the simple beauty of the landscape as they rode in their rented car to the motel where they'd be staying. It was all so new to Ashley. They rode coach, and she'd given an hourly commentary on every person in the plane, and even extended fashion advice to the balding man next to her. A miniature car, as opposed to a limo and chauffeur. She'd never driven before so Francis let her give it a try. He now smiled at the memory of their stop and go ride and how quickly she caught on to tearing down the roads and breaking suddenly before running down a man and his herd of goats. It had aggravated his injuries, still remaining from that week in their hometown, but her smile and genuine laughter was enough to erase that pain.

The week in their hometown was something neither wanted to speak about, but it remained freshly on their minds. They had been two of fifteen pact signers, having attempted to bury and forget a simple accident in their childhood. But when the fifteen conspirators were mysteriously, and seemingly, coincidentally, back home at the same time, that past was dredged up. Francis placed his hand on Ashley's shoulder, gently leading her away from the small peddler stand. They weren't in Greece to think about an insane little girl that was supposed to be dead and broken dolls. They were there to enjoy themselves.

Francis had always known the beautiful brunette woman next to him as Ashley Q., one of four young ladies by the name of Ashley. They'd grown up together in their little town at Third Street Elementary. The Ashleys club had been troublesome, malicious, and down right annoying. But the more time Francis spent with only her, the more she became just plain Ashley. She was smart, and could easily catch on to things. She was starting to stray away from the things that made Ashleys - well, Ashleys. She was still interested in fashion, still spent an hour each morning primping, but she didn't giggle in the high-pitched manner of her youth, didn't make snide comments as often, and was beginning to lose her snobbish air. The fact she was wearing a pair of Francis's pants, which she'd borrowed for their stroll, and comfortable tennis shoes was more than evident of her change. She was becoming more than bearable. She was becoming someone that Francis…liked.

Ashley skipped forward, running her hand through her hair and laughing. She had been to Greece often. Her family had spent a great deal of time traveling as she grew up, and her first husband, whom she'd recently divorced from, had sometimes taken her on his business trips out of country. But she'd never enjoyed being in a foreign place before. It was strange. Prior to her trip with Francis, she'd always stayed in fancy five-star hotel suites, been driven around in limos anywhere she wanted to go, escorted by competent translators and guides, waited on by paid servants, and wine and dined in the most upper scale of restaurants. But she found herself genuinely laughing, when Francis attempted to communicate with a local who spoke only Greek, flipping through his translation dictionary. She'd never tasted better Greek food than that in the small seedy diners Francis treated her to. And she'd never been more comfortable then in that small hotel, and walking around the streets side-by-side with Francis, navigating aimlessly with no idea of what direction they were headed. It was a new experience. Her life had always been perfectly planned out, perfectly directed, perfectly perfect.

For the first time ever, Ashley had drank hard liquor. Before, she'd only had high-priced champagne, delicately aged, with gourmet dinners. But she'd sat on the floor of their motel room, they had to share as no extra rooms were available, and played a drinking game, that Francis taught her, with a deck of cards; shots of tequila lined up. Within moments, she was giggling giddily and pink-faced. She'd never laughed so hard. She'd slept on the bed, Francis taking the cot set up for them by the motel manager. Growing up, she'd slept on silk sheets and soft down mattresses, but never had she slept so well than she had those past nights on that hard spring bed and rough cotton blanket.

It seemed as though Ashley was experiencing life in a whole different way. Like she was relearning to do everything. As though, she knew how to walk but she'd never done it before, and suddenly she was running.

The breeze from the shore brushed along Ashley's face, and she smiled, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath of the salty air. Suddenly, her blood pumped anxiously through her veins, and her heart gave a kick.

"I'll race you to the beach," she announced, catching Francis by surprise as she broke into a sprint towards the horizon of deep blue.

"Ashley…" he began calling after her before grinning and following.

They reached the water's edge in a stumble, and Ashley kicked off her shoes and socks, feeling the wet sand between her toes. It was cold and smooth. She fell back, pressing her palms into it, wanting to soak up all of it, wanting to feel it all against her. Francis shook his head, falling to his knees in front of her, trying to catch his breath. He was smiling broadly.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly.

"I envy the fish," she mumbled, looking out at the ocean, "They always get to see this."

"They're under the water, they don't get to see any of it," Francis replied, chuckling somewhat, and sitting next to her.

"Just ruin it," Ashley grumbled.

"What?"

"I'm trying to be…to be…romantic," she said, smiling and nodding approval of the word, "Yeah, I'm trying to be romantic."

"You chose a good place," Francis told her, motioning towards a large rock jutting from the shore into the ocean, "That's Aphrodite's rock. Aphrodite, goddess of love, according to legend, rose out of the ocean at that spot." Ashley eyed the rock bemused. She tilted her head, pursing her lips, examining it. Francis smirked, dusting off his jeans and hands, "There's a…well…a story about that rock. They say, if you kiss the person you like on it, at midnight, then that person will return the feelings."

"Really?" Ashley murmured, staring at it in awe.

"Yup."

"Maybe I should have kissed my husband - I mean, ex-husband - on that rock."

Francis stood, extending a hand, and Ashley accepted it. She grabbed her socks and shoes, reluctantly padding barefoot after Francis, back up to the pathway to continue walking. She glanced back, frowning. She'd come to Greece to find love, something she admittedly had yet to experience. Perhaps, she thought, perhaps that rock would help change that.

END A/N: When Ashley said "I'm trying to be romantic," she didn't mean it like that. Romanticism is a style of writing, and a lifestyle as well. For those of you who don't know, and that's what she's referencing to. Um...

I bet you all missed me and my stories, huh? Come on, you can tell me. And you know how to, also. Just click that button down there and REVIEW!

Please excuse any grammatical and typing errors...I think I proofread this chapter...um...

AND THANKS FOR READING. Chapter 2 is almost finished...and will probably be up later tonight, or tomorrow. No promises, though.