The next time they met, she'd gone up in the world. Not by much - just a pay rise or two, and a change in who she worked for - but enough to be recognised as a reporter with a better reputation than she used to have.

She was known for writing quality articles on top duelists, and that was what brought her back into his circle, as if she'd never left.

He came out, and greeted the cameras like they weren't even there, gazing through and past the crowd gathered there and only focusing in when he was asked a question.

He still had the same eyes, she thought, as she tried to get further in, closer up, so that she might get a chance to actually be noticed. Maybe even just a few years ago she wouldn't have have pushed, might not have squirmed and shoved for the chance, but that was what time did. She was no worse than any of them gathered there, she hoped.

Maybe a little better. She'd grown jaded, but she hadn't forgotten her promises, or her reasons for being a reporter in the first place.

"Atlas-sama! Atlas-sama, just one question!"

And he'd answer them. One after another, the same old stories, one after another. She knew it all by heart, now. Everything he, and the others, had told her of his past. What he'd done during the WRGP. She'd been there, to see him win. She'd read article after article on his rise back up to being 'King' again. She knew his answers.

She almost, almost, felt like she knew him.

But she didn't. Not really. If she said she did, it would all be a pretty illusion brought down by the truth, whenever she looked too closely and realised, just as she had so many times before, that while she knew the answers he gave, she couldn't tell what was going on in his mind, if she ever even had.

He was turning away.

Her vision blurred and for a split moment, she was ten years younger, watching his younger self turn away, except that this time, he hadn't even noticed that she'd been there at all.

"No… no! Please- WAIT!"

The crowd went silent. Jack straightened, as the reporters and those holding cameras looked around for the one who'd spoken, demanding his attention.

She slid forward with ease, now. If awkwardly, if embarrassed at the situation she'd made for herself.

"I- I don't know if you remember me," she said, just loudly enough that he could hear her without using a microphone. She barely noticed his eyes widening at the sound of her voice.

"Carly?"

The world stood still.

"I- yes. Yes, I- I mean- I wanted to ask you something."

He was watching her, now. They all were.

"Go on, then."

He remembered her. Words tumbled out of her mouth, unlike the reporter she'd tried so hard to become.

"I…" she coughed, clearing her throat. "I wanted to know… if you were happy with the place you'd made for yourself, as king?"

…

More than anything, he wanted to ignore the fact that the cameras were still there, flashing away at him, the fact that there were other reporters recording every word he said in their heads, on their phones, with whatever they had at hand.

Perhaps it would have been easier if she wasn't one of them. But then, would she be Carly? Probably not.

He had to answer the question, though. Was he happy?

"Hn! Until I have defeated that one person, I can never truly be satisfied!" Cameras flashed. "But…" The crowd stilled, and Carly watched. "I can live with even defeat as long as it means that those who look up to me do so with pride, and I can ride with the honour of carrying their wishes in my duels!"

The cameras flashed again, and this time, they allowed him to be ushered out, back and away from the attention.

His manager asked him what that had all been about, but he brushed the man aside. He didn't have the patience for explanations right now.

He'd thought she'd gone. He'd thought he'd never see her again.

He'd seen the articles she'd written, noted to himself when they started coming from somewhere else, in different papers.

Later, he found himself looking into the mirror of his hotel room's bathroom, staring his reflection in the face and remembering the way she'd looked when she'd asked him that. Are you happy?

He almost wondered if she remembered.

He found himself wondering whether it mattered.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tap at the door, and he strode over, not quite so intimidating in house slippers as he would have been in his normal riding boots, but still determined to make an impression on whoever it was, as he'd damn well not been warned about any visitors, and his manager could just-

A maid, that was his first thought, just one of the cleaning staff… but something was off.

"Your glasses give you away, you know," he said, anger forgotten, the king reduced to staring, hand limp on the door handle.

"I… I didn't think you'd answered the question," she said, not much more than a whisper. "Are you… are you happy? Jack?"

He continued to stare, expression working its way into a frown without his knowing it, until he turned abruptly to go back into the room, leaving the door open behind him.

"J-Jack?!"

"You might as well come in," he said, already moving to put the kettle on for coffee. He heard her fumble somewhat before just coming in, and shutting the door behind her.

"I thought you would've forgotten about me," she ended up blurting out as the kettle boiled. "I really thought… that you wouldn't even…"

"Don't be stupid," he said, hoping that it didn't come across as harsh as the words might make it sound. "Just because I was the one who pushed you away, doesn't mean I ever forgot about you."

"…Oh."

He went back to making the coffee, just normal, instant coffee, not Blue Eyes Mountain - it didn't travel well, and even if he could afford it in a hotel, not all of them could do it to his taste - and once done, brought the two steaming mugs over to the table. Set them down, and sat opposite her.

"I'd say 'let's start again', but that happened once already, I don't think I could bear going through that again. So we'll have to just carry on from where we left off."

"Jack? What did you mean, that you'd pushed me away?"

She was still in the maid outfit, and he couldn't help but think she looked cute in it, if several years younger than she actually was. He attempted to distract himself by brushing a hair out of his own face, looking away somewhat from the awkward nature of the question as well as his thoughts.

"I was young. I'd fallen in love with you… and then the you that I'd fallen for was gone, and it hurt. And after that, I simply couldn't see you hurt again."

He felt like he was eighteen years old again instead of somewhere closer to thirty.

Feeling her eyes on him - those words, he shouldn't have said them, she'd found someone else by now, surely-

"You… you really…?"

Her shoulders were shaking. He looked up in alarm, to find that she was crying.

"Stupid… stupid, I- I waited! All this time, I… I waited for you… even though I thought you'd… forgotten me."

She continued to cry, hands held around the coffee mug like it was some sort of lifeline, tying her to reality, tears welling up and rolling down her face and onto and past her nose, nowhere near as glamorous as the TV would have people believe, and the sight broke him.

She started at his hand on her shoulder. Looked up, only to have his forehead rest on hers.

"I'm here," he said, words that didn't need to be any more than a whisper. "I'm here now. As long as you still want me."

She hiccoughed, accidentally causing their heads to butt against each other, and making them smile.

"But- what about everything else?"

She wanted him? She… actually… still wanted him? The thought raced around and around his head, in different ways but all meaning the same thing.

"Hn! What use is a King if he can't be happy?"

…

AN: So… I couldn't just leave this where it was, and I'd had this idea of them meeting again like that for ages. So I ficced it.