I do not own WWRY, and anything recognisable isn't mine. We good? Then on with the show.

'Mine first,' Meat Loaf insisted, thrusting a lumpy parcel at Scaramouche. At a look from Madonna she scowled, 'Fine. It's from all the girls.'

Scaramouche gave her a suspicious look and shook the parcel, 'Why don't I like the sound of that?'

Meat laughed, 'Yeh too suspicious you are. But jus' open the damn thing will ya?'

The parcel in question was wrapped in mismatched pieces of newspaper and scraps of poster and held together with vast amounts of string and sellotape. After battling with the knots Scaramouche managed to open it. 'What… is that?' she asked after a moment.

Meat laughed huskily, 'It's a costume,' she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The 'costume' was duly produced to snorts from onlookers. Scaramouche glared at them. 'Meat,' she said slowly, 'it's a thing, a leather… thing, and a pair of boots. You cannot possibly be expecting me to wear that onstage in front of crowds of thousands.'

Meat laughed again, louder and for longer this time. 'Okay, firstly hen, the leather thing is a pair of hot pants, and the thing is an apron. And secondly, who said anything 'bout wearing it onstage? Unless you go in for that sort of thing, o' course.'

Scaramouche flushed crimson, berating herself for not having realised it sooner. It was her eighteenth birthday, and while she had no idea how they knew, it appeared the Bohemians did know. She had been sitting on the mattress in the room she shared with Galileo when Meat came in, looking like she was hiding something, and a livelier disposition than normal, if indeed, that were possible. On accompanying Meat to the bar, she found the majority of the bohemians milling around the room, and while there was nothing unusual about that, a smaller group of Galileo, Pop, Khashoggi, Big Macca, and a couple of the girls were clustered around one end of the bar, and instantly hushed the second she came into their line of vision.

'Hey! Don't Ah get a thank you?' Meat said indignantly.

'Not for that y'don't,' Scaramouche said flatly. 'You know I hate my legs, hips and stomach.'

'And yeh hands.' Scaramouche glared again. 'Anyway, it's not like they're gonna be on show. Gaz donnae count.'

In a futile attempt to recover what remained of her dignity, Khashoggi pushed a second present towards her across the bar. Scaramouche threw him a momentary puzzled look, but then, he was Meat's new man. The box was plain and unwrapped, giving no clue as to its contents. As she removed the electronic organiser, Khashoggi offered the explanation, 'I thought it might help with remembering things.' It was a well-known fact, that though she remembered most things of importance, time keeping was not one of her strong points. Particularly if Galileo had anything to do with it.

'I wasn't actually expecting you to like it,' Khashoggi said as she inspected it, so I-'

'-We,' Meat butted in.

'So we,' Khashoggi continued unperturbed, 'Got you this as well. As a more 'serious' present, as it were.'

Scaramouche took the proffered box and made a mental note to thank them all individually later.

'Ah chose 'em,' Meat enthused. She was clearly far more excited than Scaramouche.

The box held a single CD that blared the title 'The Lost Riffs'.

Scaramouche looked at them in search of a further explanation, 'It's what we thought were the best lost riffs from the past ages,' Meat explained. 'We've been finding 'em for years, but we couldn't play them until we had the technology, which we couldn't get until Globalsoft fell. 'Shoggs cleaned them up for us an' burned the disc. Ah did the artwork.'

Scaramouche laughed, 'I thought as much,' she said, leaning across the bar to give each of them a hug and a kiss. Khashoggi flushed crimson, mortified.

'Well, thank you guys. It's amazing. I love it. And I'm sure the costume'll come in handy one day. Though, I have to ask Meat, where did you get that picture?'

'CCTV.'

'How utterly embarrassing. And how like you.' Meat grinned. Fait accomplit. The picture in question was a moment they all remembered well; Galileo had failed dismally at playing the guitar, so Scaramouche had, and in a dramatic finish had laid on her back with her legs in the air, pants on full display.

'Okay, now Mack and I have a confession to make,' Pop said apologetically. 'While,' he made a display of producing another present, from what could only be assumed to be the back of his trousers, 'I managed to keep these safe, wedged deep within the murky clefts-'

'Okay, okay, I get the drift, that's enough,' Scaramouche said hastily, realising where he was heading.

'Sorry. Anyway. The second half of your present got, erm, drunk. It would seem neither of us can be trusted. We did try though, honestly!'

Scaramouche rolled her eyes, and smiled at them, 'That's okay. You didn't have to get me anything.'

'Yes we did. It's not every day you legally become an adult.'

'How did you know that?' Scaramouche asked, taking the large, flat present, rather more cautiously than she had the others.

'That would be my confession,' Khashoggi said guiltily, 'I tracked you down on the archives. Wasn't hard-'

He was stopped mid-sentence by a gasp from Scaramouche, 'Bleedin' heck guys! Where'd you get these?' she asked, flicking through the carefully bound sheaves of paper, containing guitar tabs from all the different past ages, in chronological order.

It was Big Macca's turn to laugh at her, 'We found them and thought of you. Or the person that would be you.'

'But.. they're 'mazing!' unusually lost for words, she hopped off her stool and gave each of them a peck on the cheek, flinging her arms around their necks.

Galileo blinked and frowned, though fortunately, not so she could see. Pop, however, did, and grabbed Scaramouche around the waist, causing her to fall onto his lap. He looked down at her angry expression, amused. 'You just can't resist my impish ways, can you?'

'You know me too well,' Scaramouche said, hastily standing up.

'My turn!' Galileo said quickly, before realising in typical Galileo fashion that the present wasn't to hand.

'You left it behind the bar, kid,' Pop said. Galileo jumped up and ran behind the bar, returning a moment later. Accompanied by a kiss, and a happy birthday, he gave Scaramouche a small, carefully wrapped box.

'Oh, wow, Gaz! It's beautiful!' Scaramouche breathed, carefully examining a small statuette.

'D'ya really like it?' he asked nervously, 'I wasn't really sure about it. The hair went a bit wrong though.'

'You made it?'

'Yeah. I had the idea so I just went with it.' The statue was one of her, playing the guitar, as she had done at Wembley, and so many times since. Intricately carved out of some kind of stone, the statue was accented in dark, scarlet red, on her corset, skirt, boots and guitar. He had spent hours agonising over the design, and many many more cursing, carving and restarting.

'Don't be a twit Gaz! Of course I love it. Thank you.' She lent across the bar and whispered something to him, to which he responded with a raised eyebrow and a look that combined shock, amusement and anticipation.

'Now, the fun donnae end there!' Meat said, handing her a large, flat packet, wrapped in scraps of cloth, 'This is from all of us, but mostly Lover-boy over there,' she said, pointing to Gaz.

Scaramouche awkwardly unwound the cloth and was faced with a collage of pictures of her, Galileo and the other Bohemians. She poured over it, amazed at the pictures; she'd had no idea a majority of them had even been taken. She stopped at a slightly grainy picture of her and Galileo sitting on the edge of the van and gave each of them a quizzical look. 'How'd you get that? No one else was there.'

'I seem to be making an awful lot of confessions tonight,' Khashoggi sighed, 'Again, it's the old CCTV system. Most of the ones from the city were taken on the Globalsoft system, but since we lost you and because we had no CCTV out here… it's surprising how much of the old camera system still works. I don't know why they didn't think of it really. Either way, that's from there, as are many of the others.'

Scaramouche suddenly looked at him suspiciously, 'Does it just take stills or video footage?'

'Video.' Scaramouche looked at him blankly, horror-struck. 'It's okay. The curtain was drawn.' It was Galileo's turn to turn scarlet as he saw the photo and realised what they were referring to.

'Games now!' Meat shouted loudly. 'And Pop, get th' gal a drink!'