I own nothing.

Special Delivery

That night, I'd stayed up, scribbling down my inspiration before it had opportunity to escape, then scratching the first words when the second burst of inspiration hit around four-thirty that morning. When the sun finally rose, I looked up in surprise. So much time had passed without my noticing, but it was no matter.

Rousing myself out of my tangled sheets, I headed toward the bathroom, peeling off my boxer shorts as I did so. They had basically glued themselves to my thighs the night before, thanks to the approaching New York summer and lack of air-conditioning in my apartment.

I showered quickly, not letting the cool water delay me any more than was absolutely necessary, then pulled on a pair of jeans I found lying over the back of my chair and my Queens High tee-shirt.

Somewhere between buttoning up my pants and yanking the shirt over my head, it hit me.

I was really going to do this.

After almost a year of virtually no contact, I was actually going to reach out towards the one person who had hurt me.

I took a deep breath as I realized this, then grabbed the piece of paper holding the chicken scratch ingredients as I opened the door, out into the city on that one June morning.

...

I took the subway downtown, arriving at my deli shortly after eight. I still had a good hour and a half until I absolutely had to open, so I took my time as I carefully selected every ingredient on my list in the back of my kitchen.

Tomatoes? Check.

Lettuce? Check.

Ham? Check.

And so on and so forth, until I had everything together on one side of the counter, waiting patiently me for me to remove the contents and place it in between those two slices of waiting sourdough.

I stared at the pile for a few moments, wondering what exactly to put on first. After placing the ham, then the lettuce, then turkey bacon, I had switched the order to the opposite, and then back again.

I was truly over thinking it. Isn't this what I specialized in? For God's sake.

After what seemed like hours, I finally got the actual sandwich made. Ham on the bottom, lettuce, then lots of tomatoes, turkey bacon, and onions. Then, all topped off with mustard as I placed the slice of sourdough bread over it.

Wrapping it carefully in saran wrap and sliding it into a Gio's Deli wrapper, I took another deep breath.

It all seemed so, surreal. To actually be doing this. I had forgotten what it was like, somehow, to actually live, to feel I was risking something for a something worthwhile.

With that, I walked to the front of the deli and pushed open the door, feeling the warmth of the sun hit my face, as I forced myself to take the first few steps toward the direction of Mode offices.

...

Craning my neck so I could gaze upon the whole of the building, I gulped. Had Meade Publications always been so...big? I clenched my left hand again and again, my default defense mechanism as I entered the building and pushed the UP button on the nearest elevator.

It dinged within a few seconds, and the doors opened, releasing the few people inside. Some carrying briefcases, some carrying huge poster boards, and some just carrying unidentifiable fur-like objects, which I didn't quite feel like asking about at nine in the morning.

Having the elevator all to myself, I saw my reflection the doors, noticing as if for the first time, just how much I had changed.

My hair had grown out, brushing the back of my neck and falling below my ears just slightly. My eyes looked darker, more angry, and my chin seemed to have a defiant slant. Had that always been there?

The elevator dinged once more, startling me out of self-imposed reverie, and suddenly, there I was.

Mode Magazine.

It wasn't as awful as I'd imagined, I figured the rushing back of all those memories would be unbearable, but then again, I hadn't been there in months.

Everything looked the same, the walls still unnervingly white, the people walking through them still unnervingly thin, but something was different. I couldn't exactly place it. That is, until I hit the main desk.

"Oh my God, it's you!" Amanda shrieked from behind the computer, "Hey Gino! How have you been?"

"Gio, it's Gio." I said, a little startled by her greeting.

She shrugged, her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and it moved with the motion. "Whatever. Listen, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm so glad you're here."

I nodded, "And why's that?"

Amanda leaned in closer, and said in a whisper, "It has been like death around here, I swear. With Marc fired, and Betty depressed and all, there's been no one to entertain me. I actually have to work now. It blows. And now that you've brought a sandwich, I'm sure it'll give me some material to use on her."

My ears perked up at the mention of Betty, "Betty's depressed?" I asked.

She nodded, "Oh yeah, ever since Matt dumped her she's been holed up in her new mega-huge office over there," she motioned to the back part of the offices, "and hasn't even come out except to use the bathroom."

"Where's her office?" I demanded.

"Ugh, down the hall and to the right. God, men are so pushy." With that, Amanda pushed herself back to the other side of the circular desk to the phone waiting there, picking up the receiver, pushing a button and immediately begin talking.

I sighed, clutching the sandwich as I rounded the desk and made my way down the hallway. It was a lot longer of a walk to her new office than it was to her old desk. It was just yet another reminder of how things change so quickly sometimes.

When I finally arrived at her office door, I couldn't help but smile as I saw her name, Betty Suarez, printed clearly on a plaque on the side. It was what she always wanted, to see her name in something permanent. If only she knew, her name already had been on something even more permanent, she just couldn't see it.

It was when I got closer that I heard muffled voices on the other side, it sounded like whoever was in there with her, they were not happy.

"This isn't what I said, Betty, I said it has to be young, hip, instead you gave me old and paunchy!" a masculine voice yelled, the sound of papers hitting the desk following his speech.

"I'm sorry, I thought this is what you wanted, I asked all the under-20's I saw all week!" It was Betty, and she sounded pleading.

I almost turned back, I would be interrupting, after all. But as I looked at the sandwich in my hand, I got one final burst of courage, and tentatively knocked on the white opaque door.

The voices abruptly stopped, and I heard Betty call out softly, "Come in."

I pushed open the door slowly, peeking my head around the edge.

And that's when I saw her. She looked so different, yet strangely the same. The patterns on her dress were...yeah. Her hair was haphazardly tied back with a bright pink ribbon, and her glasses still perched on her nose, but it was her eyes that got me. They were red, as if she'd been crying, and not sleeping. And I could see it from where I was standing, a good ten feet away.

A wave of concern passed over me, but it didn't last long when I saw who was standing next to her.

Matt.

He looked even more pampered than before, his stubble perfectly even, and his eyes were twice as dark and angry as I'd seen them in the pictures.

My wave of concern suddenly kicked into protective mode. What was he doing here?

"Gio." Betty said softly, and Matt looked back at her, his anger looked like it was increasing, if that was even possible.

"Hey, Suarez," I said, restraining the urge to run over and embrace her.

She smiled, a little sadly. "Matt, can you excuse us?" she asked.

Matt did a single chuckle as he raised his hands, then let them hit his legs with a thud. "Sure, whatever Betty. Just, do whatever you want, you do anyway. With or without my knowledge." He did a single, pointed glare at her before turning and opening the door, letting it slam hard behind him. Making me jump.

I looked back at Betty, whose eyes were downcast.

"So, uh," I sputtered, unsure of what to say, "what's his problem?"

Betty looked up at me, her eyes watering as she went to speak, then closed her mouth again.

I knew that expression all too well, I'd seen her upset far too many times for my liking.

I couldn't take it anymore, "Hey, hey now," I said as I took her in my arms, dropping the sandwich on the floor behind her. "it's okay, it's okay."

She kept her head on my shoulder, sniffling. Her form shaking under the enclosing of my arms. Here I was, doing exactly what she wanted of me. A shoulder to cry on. And I did it gladly, even as each moment that I held her passed, my heart tore a little more, piece by piece.

"You want some breakfast? I know this great little bistro on fifth." I said into her ear, trying to get her mind off whatever work issue had risen, and also, Mode didn't seem to be the best place to catch up.

Betty brought her head back from my shoulder, looking at me, "Gio, that sounds..." she looked behind me, when I looked back, I saw Matt standing there. Staring daggers at her, and me. "...wonderful." she finished. "I'm, I'm just sorry I'm so sad, right now."

I smiled at her, looking directly into her eyes. "It's okay, sad is something we can work with."

...

A/N: Hey readers, did you catch my allusion to earlier Gio quotes? If you did, feel intelligent, haha. Oh, and just to clear up confusion, this IS a continuing story, because a oneshot just wouldn't do to satisfy my craving for Getty, haha! Anywho, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I have writing it! So let me know what you think, and thanks a bunch!