They drove in stony silence, the headlights illuminating a small portion of the road in front of them, nothing to break up the monotony of the darkness other than the occasional road sign, briefly reflecting light back at them.

Is this how it would be from here on out? Would this unbearable tension bordering on malice be the only atmosphere they could engender? Danny continued to stare straight ahead, not daring to take a glance at her, hoping the repetitive motion of the lines whooshing past on the road would hypnotize him, put him in some other state where this was all a bit more bearable.

He didn't have to look at her. He already knew what he would see if he did. That hurt in her eyes and her hands gripping the steering wheel would undo him. But then again, he was already undone. There wasn't anything that could make him feel worse than he did.

Why had he said anything? After all, she had changed her plans and drove back out to get him. Even if she was angry about it, it would have been something they could get past, not something that would end their friendship altogether. He could even tell that she had already forgiven him for lying to her to begin with, and yet he couldn't brush off the sick feeling he got when he thought of her striving, yet again, to prove her worth to someone who had hurt her.

So many times he'd felt the words bubbling up inside of him, and so many times he'd pushed them back down, but tonight's events had coalesced in a hideously perfect way, and he couldn't take it any longer. He'd had time, lost wandering in the desert, to mull over things, to dwell on them.

Seeing his father again had brought up all the feelings of inadequacy he'd had in childhood. He'd needed her to come with him, to be a buffer, to be some kind of support. He hadn't thought twice about asking her to come, hadn't thought twice about practically begging her when she'd shown hesitance. He needed her, damn it, and it pissed him off to no end. Why was it so one sided?

When she had explained to him the situation with Cliff, he'd felt an array of things. Anger, relief, hope, none of which seemed appropriate for the situation. She was so mad at herself. She heaped all the blame on her own shoulders. Yes, she had lied, but what right did Cliff have to dictate who she could see? He'd bitten his tongue, trying to sympathize with her, but she'd already been scheming to get the lawyer back, and he couldn't believe it. Clearly the man didn't know Mindy well enough. Of course she'd gone to see Casey. She was insecure sometimes, and often did things to reassure herself that she'd made the right decision, but she was loyal too, and would never had cheated. Danny knew all this, and Cliff didn't.

"Are you going to be silent all the way back?" He heard the words come out of his mouth, unsure of what he wanted to accomplish. He couldn't stand the silence any more.

Why couldn't she see that she was stuck in a vicious cycle, trying to prove herself to these men? He felt his hands clench into fists. He sighed and tried to relax them. From Danny's perspective, it didn't seem as though Cliff had ever trusted her, and finding out that she saw Casey was just a very convenient excuse. As much as Danny was irked by the way Mindy tried to change herself for Casey, at least he had encouraged her to go see Josh, to actively put that relationship to rest.

"I'm sorry for what I said, or rather, the way I said it." Great. He was doing it again, letting his words get in the way of what he was trying to say. "I just meant you shouldn't chase after someone, to prove yourself."

She continued to drive, not taking her eyes off the road, not saying a word. He continued. "And, yeah, I get it. I'm selfish for putting my needs above yours. I haven't forgotten what you said about Cliff being the first person in a long time that you could see a future with, but I honestly think he's not that one person who really understands you."

The words hung in the air. Danny had started his apology with the intent to just smooth things over between them, but the more he talked, the less placating he became. He suddenly felt desperate. "He basically forbade you to see Casey. He didn't trust you from the beginning. If he really knew you, if he really knew how you operated, he'd have known you needed to see Casey one more time. If he really trusted you, he would have known nothing would have happened."

He was watching her intently now. Her jaw was set, her lips pursed, there was a slight sheen of tears in her eyes. He hated to cause her pain, but he needed her to see. "And yet, with all that, you still feel the need to run back to him. To plan out some elaborately concocted plan to get him back. When has that ever worked?" He felt his own voice begin to get a little wobbly and cleared his throat. "But that's not even what really bothers me."

She still wouldn't look at him, although she gripped the steering wheel more tightly. He continued. "What really bothers me is that I would do anything for you. Anything at all. Say the word, and after a few grumpy halfhearted protests, I would be doing your bidding, but when I need you, really need you, something gets in the way." His voice was thick with emotion. He didn't pause for her to respond, instead rushing on. "And it's that too. That needing. Do you know how long it's been since I've needed anyone, since I've let anyone get that close? Years. More than you could guess. I stopped needing people long before the Christina debacle. I used to be able to just soldier on stoically."

He stopped looking to her for a reply, and just continued his monologue. "I still don't really need people in general. It's just you. And when I had to face the one person who had done the most damage, the person who had created this selfish and mean jerk you see before you, I realized that you'd stripped me of the armor I'd grown so accustomed to. So, I'm sorry, but I do need you. I need your encouragement and your sunny disposition, and I need that irrational optimism that things will work out. I need it all, and I'm sorry that's such an imposition."

He was unable to speak anymore. His own voice cracking on the last word, his throat closing up. God this was awful. He suddenly felt like he was sealing their fate. They could never behave normally around each other after this. He was obviously too invested in their friendship, leaning on her a little too heavily. A wave of humiliation passed over him. What the hell was he doing?

He took a chance and peeked back over at her. She was still staring straight ahead, hands firmly grasping the steering wheel at ten and two, but there were tears streaming down her face. She kept blinking rapidly so she could still see the road. Then she sniffed and he saw the downward turn of her mouth, the tell tale sign of someone trying not to cry. "Min, pull over, please."

She silently followed his request, slowing down and coming to a stop. As soon as the car was in park, she twisted in her seat to face him, tears flowing freely. "D-danny…. I'm sorry. You're not selfish." She was hiccupping between sniffles, trying to reign in the sobbing she felt hovering near the surface. "A-and you haven't been mean for a very long time." She continued to cry.

He didn't know what to say. He just reached up and tried to brush the tears away. It was fruitless. They just continued to roll down her cheeks. She grabbed his hand. "I just wanted to say something that would hurt you, because what you said hurt so much. I know Cliff dumped me, and I don't need you reminding me what a failure I am when it comes to adult relationships. I mean, if it could ever work, it would be with someone like him, but I screwed it up anyway."

Her face crumpled again, squeezing her eyes shut as more tears dripped down to her chin. Danny hated this. He wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out. She continued. "It's not fair though, you say Cliff's not the person for me, but neither is anyone else. Not Josh, not Tom, not Casey, not Brendan, no one is. What do you want me to do, Danny? To give up? You're my best friend… in a perfect world…" She trailed off, looking away from him.

He wanted so badly to just cup her face in his hands and draw her in for a gentle kiss. He wanted to wipe away the tears and draw the pain from her voice, but this was exactly the way he didn't want it to happen. He didn't want to be some weird rebound thing, he didn't want her to cling to him because the real catch got away, but he couldn't do the same thing he'd done before. He never wanted her to feel rejected again.

Against his better judgment, he reached out and caught her chin with the tips of his fingers, turning her back toward himself. She looked up at him expectantly, holding her breath. It was the same look she'd given him at the Christmas. He wished he'd caved then. He pulled her closer, stopping a hair's breadth away from her lips, letting their unsteady breaths comingle, his nose brushing against her cheek still wet with tears. "Mindy." He sighed her name against her parted lips.

She whimpered, completely losing patience with him. Reaching up, she snaked her hand around his neck, threading her fingers up through his hair as she pulled his lips down to hers. He slid his hand to her neck, feeling the pulse flutter against his thumb as his other hand slipped behind her head, cradling it gently. He plucked at her lips, kissing desperately, trying to make up for wasted time. Her lips were soft and eager against his.

It would be easy to pretend the outside world didn't exist, to pretend that they weren't thousands of miles away from home in the middle of the desert. He couldn't pretend though, not for long. The weight of reality never left him for any length of time, and he wanted so much from this. He couldn't risk her not understanding his intentions. He reluctantly pulled away.

For a split second her eyes were still closed and her lips still parted. He saw the little frown replace the set of her formerly parted and willing lips. He saw the tiny wrinkle on her brow right before her eyes flew open. "Danny?"

"Mindy. I need you to finish that thought. What would happen in a perfect world?"

She swallowed, leaning back into her seat. She began slowly. "In a perfect world I would find someone who understands me… like you do, and who knows everything about me but hangs around anyway… like you do." She swallowed. "In a perfect world, someone like you would actually want me back. He wouldn't send me mixed signals all the time. He'd just kiss me senseless and tell me exactly what he's feeling."

He nodded. "I have, Min. I need you. I need to be around you. It's good for me. I feel… happy for the first time in a long time. I think we should try this."

She beamed at him through the sheen of more tears. This time though, they were happy tears. She kissed him again, pulling back to add one more thing. "I need you too. It's not one sided. I need your forethought and your rational thinking. I need your steady presence."

He chuckled. "Aren't we a pair? Totally codependent. How long before this crashes and burns do you think?"

She smiled back at him. "No, I wouldn't call it codependent. I think we learn from each other. Maybe one day, after a really long time together, we'll be these normal well-adjusted people everyone's always talking about." There it was, that optimism he needed in his life.

He sighed. "A really long time."

She kissed him one last time before turning the key in the ignition. "The first thing we have to do, is go back to your Dad's. I think you need this, and I really want to be there for you."

She pulled out onto the dark highway, peering out the window. People would talk, they always did. This thing with Danny was sudden, and she was sure Cliff would have something to say about it. Right now, though, she couldn't care less. She felt like she'd been waiting around for this, and finally things had just clicked.

They drove along in silence once again. This time it was warm, some invisible thread connecting them. Mindy rested her hand on the console between their seats, drumming her fingers idly. She felt Danny's hand cover hers, threading his fingers between her own. The sensation brought back the memory of the first time she'd really wanted this. That first time he'd reached for her hand as she withdrew it. Her heart had leapt in her throat, and she'd told herself it was adrenaline that made her heart pick up its pace. She knew better now.