1: Old Friend

I wondered if there was purposefully never anything on TV in hotel rooms.

I was lying on the huge bed, flipping aimlessly through different channels and not finding anything worth my time. Warm morning light had filtered into the room – even more so after I'd actually drawn the curtains.

The two small suitcases sat lying open on the floor, because neither of us had bothered to fully unpack. I wasn't used to being so lazy; it felt weird, almost wrong. My body wanted to be up and moving, doing things that weren't possible at the moment.

There weren't any crops to water (something I would do anyway since the last few days of Winter hung around like a black plague), there weren't any animals to tend to, and I didn't have to mine or fish.

I'd eaten too much of the hotel's complimentary breakfast, and my limbs felt like they were made of stone. I yawned hugely and turned the TV off – the stupid thing was much too bright for my sensitive morning eyes anyway.

I heard the water of the shower switch off in the bathroom, so I knew Vaughn would be out here soon. My mind was instantly clouded with overpowering emotions of love and desire as soon as I thought his name.

But I knew we'd have to something today besides being together, because we'd barely left this room for three days. Only four more until we headed back to Sunshine Islands and really started our life together.

I'd have to order a bigger bed from Chen, I thought, and possibly expand the house again. We didn't really need the extra room – it was just an added convenience I happened to have the money for.

Of course, we might actually need the space if there was ever another person living with is. Specifically, a tiny, beautiful little person with dark brown hair and wide amethyst eyes. Or, at least, that's how I pictured how our child would look. I wasn't going to bring up the subject for a while, though.

Even I realized that it was best to focus on our work right now – there was still so much to do. It would probably always be that way, no matter what I ever got done. I smiled up at the ceiling. I wouldn't have it any other way.

The phone rang shrilly from the nightstand, and I jumped, still so unaccustomed to such things. It was so easy to believe that Sunshine Islands was the only place in the world that really existed – everything was strange, unreal. Televisions, TVs and computers were odd, unfamiliar devises the Islanders really had no use for . . . I reached out and held the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Chelsea. How are things going?" Julia's cheerful voice greeted me.

I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to ask how she got this number. "Great," I said, "I'm not even mad at you anymore for doing this."

"Good to know, because I'm not the slightest bit remorseful," she snickered.

"How are things at my ranch?" I asked.

"Pretty good – Lola's milk is finally S quality."

"Cool," I said, "I've been hoping it would upgrade."

"So." Julia changed the subject, and something about her tone made a strange sort of suspicion well up in my stomach. "What have you been doing?"

"Oh, just . . . lying around," I evaded.

She laughed. "I'm sure that's not everything you're doing . . ."

"You're right," I agreed, "Shall I give you all the details?"

"Uh, no thanks." She was instantly persuaded to drop the subject.

She might have been more inclined to discuss my sex life if my partner wasn't her very beautiful cousin. I could only hope she'd return the favor of avoiding this particular topic when she finally married Elliot. Those were some unnecessary – and potentially scarring – mental pictures.

"I think Elliot might propose soon," Julia said suddenly, her voice low.

"Really? Why?"

"I caught him in Chen's Shop the other day – looking at blue feathers."

The warmth in her voice was touching. But I couldn't stop my next words. "Feathers – don't those break or get wrinkled after a while? Rings are much more practical."

I pursed my lips after I said it, realizing how insensitive it sounded. Perhaps my newfound bluntness was the product of spending so much time with Vaughn.

"I agree," she said, not sounding the slightest bit offended. "It's really an odd tradition. Where in the world did people get the idea that blue feathers should symbolize love?"

I shrugged, though of course she couldn't see. "I don't know."

"But that's not really the point." A bit of irritation was evident in her tone.

"I know," I said quickly, "Of course not. Promise you won't have the wedding before I get back."

She snorted. "I'm not getting my hopes too far up. But let's just say Nathan and Alisa have had fair warning that they may be performing another ceremony soon."

"You deserve it, Julia," I told her for the thousandth time.

Just then, the bathroom door was pulled open, and Vaughn stepped out into the hall in nothing but black jeans. My eyes ogled his chest, his stomach, and his arms.

"Julia, I've got to go," I mumbled.

"Okay," Julia said easily. "Bye."

I think I muttered a "bye" back before hanging up the phone, but I couldn't be sure.

"Who was that?" Vaughn asked, searching through his disorganized suitcase for a suitable shirt.

"Your lovely cousin," I replied. I reached out, grasped his hand, and pulled him towards me. I kissed his lips, slow and passionate, for a long time.

"What should we do today?" He mumbled after a moment.

My hands caressed his upper body. "I think we should go out."

Vaughn groaned. "Why?"

"I'd like to go the mall." The words sounded very out of context while he was kissing me everywhere, but I didn't care.

"Why?" he repeated, his voice whiny like a child's.

"Because I want to," I said.

He sighed, and then pulled back, yanking the first shirt his fingers found from the suit case. I smiled at his unhappy expression.

"We'll come back soon."

I would have spent more time wondering around Barnes and Noble, but the endless irritated glances and impatient sighs started wearing me down after a while. Finally, when I had something suitable and was standing at the counter to pay, I said something about it.

"Why do you hate shopping?"

"Why do you like it?" he countered.

I shrugged. "I don't get to do it very often."

He muttered something unintelligible, but he let me take his hand and pull him out of the store.

"We'll go to a clothing place next," I decided, "And then we'll eat."

"And then we'll leave?"

I sighed. "After that, we can do something you want to do."

He tilted his head, and kissed my ear. "The only thing I want to do involves going back to the hotel."

I smiled and blushed a little. "I see."

We were silent for the rest of our walk, passing by other people and numerous other shops. But just as we rounded a corner, Vaughn stopped and stared. I followed his gaze and found myself looking at a small shop with a bright purple neon sign.

Claire's.

It specialized in jewelry, wallets, kinky clothing and accessories. Overall, it looked like a place where teenage girls would flock. Predictably, two such persons were visible standing by the sunglasses' rack, trying on ridiculously large pairs and snickering at each other.

It definitely wasn't a place I'd go in willingly. A sharp pain pierced my heart when I recognized the way Vaughn was staring at this particular store. It was a look I'd seen more often than I would have preferred; it was far-off, hurt and isolated.

When he looked like this, I could tell he was remembering something painful. And, really, the only memories that caused him so much grief centered around one person.

"Vaughn?" I asked quietly.

Though I'd dealt with this sort of thing before, I was always at loss as to how to approach it. He tore his eyes away from the store long enough to glance down at me.

His tone was curiously dead. "What?"

My eyes narrowed. He knew very well what. He sighed, and then gazed at the store again. Hurt immediately welled up inside me, but I pushed it away, knowing it was irrational. Even after all this time, even though I was married and going to spend my life with him, I sometimes saw flashes of the side of him that was cold, injured and just plain mean. Knowing the reasons behind these emotions didn't always ease the hurt.

"That was one of Marissa's favorite stores," he sighed quietly after a minute.

"Oh."

I pulled him in the other direction – he didn't resist. He just continued to stare lifelessly at nothing. I swallowed against the lump in my throat and headed towards the exit – I wasn't in the mood for clothes shopping anymore.

Even though I'd abandoned my search for outfits, my growling stomach reminded me that I still had to eat. I didn't say anything to him as we walked down the sidewalk, not bothering to hail a cab. I knew better than to try and speak to him in this stare – it would only lead to hurtful comments and piercing glares.

When emotion and life began to touch his eyes again, I found my voice.

"Let's find a Café or something for lunch."

"Alright," he agreed, sounding too apathetic for my liking.

We ended up finding a small Café on the corner of a particularly busy street – though the building was small, it was buzzing with activity. The line wasn't long, though. I ordered a delicious-looking vanilla latte and a big, chocolate cookie.

Vaughn ordered milk and some sort of odd-looking Danish. We settled into a green bench next to the window and began eating in silence. I stared at the letters painted on the glass, backwards from where I was sitting.

But after several long minutes of agonizing silence I couldn't put the question off any longer.

"Are you alright?"

His eyes flickered up to mine, and he managed a small – not completely genuine – smile. "Yes."

I wanted to push the subject – he needed to know that he couldn't just freeze up like this whenever he saw something that reminded him of his sister. It just wasn't . . . normal. But I wasn't in the mood to start up an argument.

That conversation would just have to wait. I took his hand on the table, kissing each of his fingers individually.

"I love you."

"Yeah, I know. I wonder why." He sounded genuinely interested.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. You're really a jerk."

He shrugged, too. "That's a given."

I smiled, pressing his hand to my cheek. When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me, unmistakable love in his expression. Feeling better, I ate the cookie, rubbing circles on his hand with my thumb. The little bells above the Café door jiggled, indicating the arrival of another customer. I glanced up automatically.

A single dark-haired woman walked over to the counter, and stared up at the little menu thoughtfully. I yawned and looked away, bored. Vaughn still seemed a little distant, but his expression was more peaceful that before. I sipped the latte and contemplated other places we could go it; I hadn't been to a movie in forever . . .

The little hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I shuddered, instantly assaulted by memories of being alone with the thin man in that dark alley outside of Vaughn's apartment. I would forever hate the feeling of being watched.

I turned in my seat a little and met a pair of wide hazel eyes, set into the face of the dark-haired woman I'd seen come in a minute ago. She was still standing at the counter, but she wasn't studying the menu anymore, and she wasn't looking at me.

She was examining Vaughn with the strangest expression. She wasn't staring in a way that would make me angry or possessive; her eyes were intense, and strangely skeptical, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

I stared at her until she finally met my eyes. I raised one eyebrow questioningly; she instantly looked away like I'd stung her.

"Vaughn, do you know that woman by the counter?" I asked him quietly, though she probably wouldn't hear anyway over the buzz of voices that filled the Café.

He glanced up, looking bored. "No. Why?"

"She was staring at you for a while," I murmured.

He shrugged, like it was no big deal. "People do that with me."

I rolled my eyes. "It was different. Like she was surprised to see you or something . . ."

He opened his mouth to answer, probably with a remark much the same as last time, but I held up a hand to stop him.

The dark-haired woman received her coffee from the man behind the counter, and then moved to a table close to ours. I watched her inconspicuously from the corner of my eye. Vaughn felt no need to be discreet; he stared openly, his eyes more than a little unfriendly.

The woman glanced up and – when she saw that we both were staring at her – she looked hurriedly away again. She stared out the window, but I could tell her thoughts didn't center on afternoon traffic. Vaughn continued to stare, his brow furrowed slightly, like he was working out a difficult math equation in his head.

"Come to think of it," he muttered, almost to himself, "She looks a little familiar."

"Do you want to go talk to her?" I wondered.

He shook his head. "No. I'd remember if she was someone important."

I shrugged. "Okay."

Another ten minutes passed. Just as we were standing up the leave, the dark-haired woman glanced at us again, scared that we were leaving so soon. I frowned.

"I want to see what her problem is," I grumbled, crushing the latte cup in my hand and tossing it into a nearby garbage.

Vaughn followed me to the woman's table.

"Do we know you or something?"I asked, too irritated to attempt to be polite. Flustered, the woman shrugged and looked away.

"Maybe," she mumbled after a moment.

Vaughn remained silent, but he wore that same calculating expression. The woman stood so she was eye-level with me, abandoning her coffee on the table. I waited expectantly. When she didn't continue, I prompted her.

"Well?"

She sighed, and gazed over my shoulder at my husband.

"Is your name Vaughn?" she asked. Her voice was stronger than before.

Vaughn stared at her for a minute, obviously not caring for this woman's awareness.

"Yeah," he finally admitted after a tense moment.

She smiled a little, pleased with this assent. "You probably don't remember me, right? I'm Claire Michaels."

Vaughn seemed a little confused for a moment, but then recognition lit up his eyes. "Yes, a little."

I frowned at the woman named Claire, frustrated by my lack of knowledge. "Who are you?"

Claire blushed, obviously uncomfortable with my unfriendly glower. "I knew Vaughn a little bit when I was younger. I was his sister's best friend."

My heart skipped a beat or two at this, and worry knotted in my stomach. How would thi s affect him?

"Really?" I managed to say, unable to hide the concern from my tone. "How did you know Vaughn, then?"

"I was over at his house a lot," Claire said, "The white one the corner of Fisbury road? Marissa and I liked to hang out in the back yard; there was a really cool tree house." Her words were bordering on babble.

But then her voice dropped, and she stared at the floor. "Well, that was before she . . ."

"Died?" Vaughn said flatly.

"Yeah," Claire agreed sadly.

A long silence passed, and a hopeful gleam suddenly came into her eyes. "I never did find out happened to her."

Vaughn was rigid at my side; I could almost hear his teeth grinding. "That's private." His voice was so cold, so utterly flat and emotionless, I flinched a little.

Claire shrugged. "I know it is."

She smiled a little at him, despite his hostility. "Marissa talked about you a lot, you know. For the first few years that I knew her, she was always saying how wonderful her brother was. But towards the last few months . . ."

I squeezed Vaughn's hand, wishing more than anything that this woman would go away and never come back. I hated seeing his grief. And I'd seen it far too often.

"We should probably go," I said curtly, stepping towards the door.

But Vaughn didn't move. I begged him silently to come with me, but he was staring at Claire, unconcealed curiosity in his expression.

"No," he muttered quietly, "I don't want to go yet, Chelsea."

Another long silence passed, this one much more uncomfortable. Claire fidgeted uncomfortably under his calculating gaze.

Finally, she said, "We have some things to talk about, don't we? I mean, there's some things I'd like to . . ."

I could finish her unspoken sentence. I want to know. Unexpectedly, I was filled with an overwhelming amount of pity for this stranger. I tried to imagine being someone's best friend for most of my life – an image of Julia flashed in my mind – and then to have their life unexpectedly cut short.

And then, worst of all, never knowing exactly what happened to her . . . I shuddered. There were probably dozens of rumors flitting around about Marissa's death, but how could Clare ever know for sure?

If something – heaven forbid – ever happened to Julia, I would want to know. It was for this reason I didn't insist on leaving the Café at that moment.

Claire took a deep breath. "Do you live here in the city? Maybe we could have lunch sometime."

Vaughn pursed his lips. "Alright."

My eyes narrowed. I didn't care for the way she only spoke to him, like I wasn't even here.

Vaughn must have noticed my glower, because he leaned over and kissed my temple. "Chelsea would be there, as well."

Claire's eyes flickered to me for a second; or more specifically, the ring on my left hand. I wagged my fingers a little in case she didn't get it.

She blushed a little and nodded. "Yes, of course."

"We don't live in the city," I said, as if my voice would make my presence clearer. "We're on our honeymoon. And we're going home soon."

"Oh. Well. Tomorrow, then?" she asked. She pulled a piece of paper from her purse and wrote something with a black pen.

She handed it to me. "That's my address. Is one o' clock okay?"

"It'll be fine," Vaughn answered before I could.

I sighed, stuffing the paper into my pocket. I didn't really understand why he wanted to speak to her anyway.

"Goodbye, then." Claire sat back down and held her coffee cup, her eyes suddenly far away.

Vaughn and I hurried out of the Café.

I waited until we were back in the hotel before I said anything. Vaughn lay down on the bed, staring up the ceiling and sighing heavily. I curled up next to him, my arm slung over his chest and my head on his shoulder. I said the first words that came to mind.

"You never told me that your old house was on Finsbury Street."

He smirked, like this trivial detail was amusing to him. "No. Why does it matter?"

"Will lives on that street, too," I said, "You were neighbors with him growing up, and you didn't even know it."

Vaughn snorted. "Great."

"Those houses are really nice," I said quietly, "You guys must have been rich." By the way he grimaced, I knew I'd said something wrong.

"Yes," he said bitterly, "We were. Something I took full-fledged advantage of."

"Vaughn . . ." My tone was disapproving.

But then I sighed, realizing it was probably better to avoid the subject. Especially when there were so much more pressing matters at hand.

"Why did you agree meet that woman for lunch tomorrow? Why do you want to talk to her?"

He sighed, too, and closed his eyes. "Chelsea, Marissa and I didn't . . . get along during the last few months of her life. I think she resented me for not helping her more, even though I tried to protect her as best I could. During those months, it was . . . like I didn't even know her anymore. Like she was a different person. I want to know exactly who that person was."

Tears welled in my eyes. "Vaughn, this can't end well. And you know she's going to be prying for information."

His smirk was suddenly more pronounced. "It's nothing I haven't dealt with before."

I made a face at him.

His thumbs wiped under my eyes, and he kissed my forehead. "I don't know, Chelsea . . . Think of it as closure. I have to do this. For myself. For Marissa."

"I'm surprised you didn't recognize Claire in the Café," I murmured, and his hands started to caress me.

"I wasn't that involved in Marissa's social life," he murmured.

"Oh," I said, beginning to lose my ability to think rationally. I wrapped a leg around his hip and kissed his mouth. I wanted to forget all the pain, all the talk of loss and sadness that was sure to come. If only for a while. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn't escape the nagging little voice in back of my mind. I didn't like what it was saying, but I had to listen all the same.

We'd probably stay in this city longer than we planned.

A/N: I'm fully aware that Claire is the name of some other character in a different HM game. It's not the same one, I assue you. I just happened to like the name ;)