"Meredith, which of your friends are these?"
"Miss Stepien, who's playing what role?"
"Meredith, who's leaving the show?"
"Miss Stepien, Miss Stepien! Will you tell us what the new roles are?"
Meredith pushed Jaime and Lauren ahead of her, as they seemed unable to move for themselves. They stared at the huge swarm of paparazzi, all flashing pictures and recording and shouting questions, shoving microphones and cameras and papers in their faces. Meredith walked them past people and forced the reporters to make room for them as they shoved through. She kept her smile on her face the whole time. When they'd reached the door through the throng, she pressed the intercom. "Hello?" buzzed a familiar voice.
"It's Meredith," she said. "With Jaime and Lauren. Can you let us in?"
The doors swung open not a moment later, and she ushered her friends in. The press had had enough footage of the lobby. "Hey Albert," she greeted when the doors had shut. The man in his uniform sitting behind the large desk with the crinkly-eyed smile returned the greeting.
"Meredith," he said, smiling his constant grin. "And Jaime and Lauren, hello!" They greeted him in return.
When in the elevator and having pressed the button, Jaime remarked, "He seemed friendly."
"He always is," she said, feeling her stomach drop to her feet as the elevator started. "We're all his family, because he doesn't have any blood family left."
"What happened to his family?" asked Lauren.
"His wife and son died in a car accident when she was driving him to college," she told them quietly. "Quite tragic. He was in the hospital, recovering from a stroke. That's why he wasn't with them."
"That's awful," Jaime breathed.
Meredith nodded her agreement. "But he smiles through it, like you're supposed to." She caught Jaime's eyes, and her nod was so small Lauren didn't catch it.
Meredith felt her stomach jump back into its lining as the elevator stopped, and the doors slid open to reveal her neighbor and his Labrador puppy. "Bill, how are you?" she asked. "and Sally, of course?" she said, bending down to pet the dog briefly.
"We're fine," he said, smiling widely. "Becca's coming over later and we're going to watch Peneviere."
"I'm flattered," she said, blushing as she always did when he mentioned the movie she'd been in. "Tell her hi for me, would you?"
"I always do," he said pleasantly. "We better get outside, Sally needs a walk." He caught sight of the other girls. "Jaime, Lauren, nice to see you again."
They said hello to Bill, and then she guided her friends out and Bill and Sally stepped in. She led her friends down the hall.
"He seems nice," said Lauren. "He always does, when we come here."
"He is nice," Meredith agreed. "Everyone is. I've been here two and a half years, and nobody that lives in this building has been mean to me, ever."
She stopped outside her door and turned the key in the lock. Before she opened the door, she told her friends seriously, "You have to battle out who gets the white bedroom and who gets the green one." Then she opened the door and stepped out of the way as they raced each other to the green bedroom, shouting why they should have it and the other shouldn't.
Brian stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above him, his arms nestled into the unfamiliar blankets. Everything about this place was unfamiliar, alien. He knew he'd get used to it, but it had the feel of a hotel suite. Cold and untouched and like it wouldn't be permanent. The apartment felt totally empty, though he knew Dylan was just across the hall, and sleeping, judging from the wisps of snores he heard float underneath their doors to his ears.
He rolled over. He would not give up another night to anxiety-riddled insomnia. but his stomach was in uneasy knots and his fingers kept clenching and releasing the blanket on top of him. It was warmer than it had been when he'd gotten into the bed, but it was still cold. He tossed onto the other side. The walls were just as bad to stare at as the ceiling.
He gave up. Tossing the covers off of him, he felt the sting of cold, slightly-coarse carpet as it touched his bare feet. He looked downward pointedly, shuffling quietly to the glass doors that led onto the patio/balcony. He was glad he was the faster runner out of he and Dylan and had gotten to the room that led to the patio before him, and therefore had claimed it as his own. The patio didn't just stop when their apartment stopped, however. It went on and on and wrapped around the building, so every apartment on the sixth floor shared a patio. It went around the corners, even. The hotel was L-shaped, so he could see the first sharp turn of the balcony. He slid open the door and when it didn't creak, he stepped outside and slid it closed.
The night air was slightly chilly, and he hugged his pajamas to him. The concrete of the patio was much colder against his feet than his carpeted bedroom had been. He heard honks and horns, and voices from below. He saw city lights and signs and… well, he saw Hollywood.
And, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blackened figure leaning against the wall outside glass doors just like his, but being careful not to lean over the edge in the slightest bit and be photographed by the few loitering paparazzi on the street below. Meredith, he was sure of it, from the almost-tight nightgown to the hair that was being lifted slightly in the night breeze. He'd recognize her silhouette in a room full of shadows.
He began walking to her, without much conscious choice, really. As he drew closer, she became more defined; her face was a mixture of thoughtfulness, regret, and hope. He wondered what on earth could have splayed those particular emotions on that perfect face of hers. "Meredith?" he called quietly to her, counting on the wind that was blowing in her direction to carry his voice. It must have, because a few moments later she looked up from her fixed point on the ledge, and her, instead, fixed on him. All previous emotions disappeared and she just smiled her wide smile.
"Brian," she said. "Can't sleep?"
"Nope," he replied honestly. "Not at all. the apartment is strange."
"Strange good or strange bad?" she patted the wall next to her in a motion to get him to lean there. He did, and the sharp, frigid points of the bricks dug into his skin a bit, but he was fairly comfortable.
"Strange good," he answered. "It's a nice apartment, not flashy at all but not homely. But it's foreign. Strange."
"I understand," she said sympathetically, and he had no doubt she did. "My first couple weeks here were torture. Couldn't sleep, felt like a visitor in my own home. It got so bad - well, you know." She cleared her throat awkwardly.
"That you needed a friend?" he said quietly, almost wishing the wind wouldn't carry his voice this time.
She nodded. "But you guys won't have that problem," she said brightly. "You've got me, and each other, and the rest of the gang until they're done visiting, and the cast will love you, I'm sure."
"Did they love you at first?" he asked, knowing the answer.
"No," she said, sighing. "They warmed up to me quickly, though. I was just so nervous I couldn't see that they still weren't hesitant. Of course, Jim was always nice."
"Jim Parsons is one of the most pleasant people you can meet," said Brian, "According to Whil Wheaton."
"And to me, and everyone else who's every met him," she agreed.
"When will we get to meet him?" he inquired. "And Gina Dailie, and the others?"
"You would be interested in Gina," she teased lightheartedly. "You'll get to meet them next week, when we start shooting again."
The truth was, Brian wasn't really interested in Gina at all, she was just the first cast member name that had popped into his head. How could he be, when Meredith Stepien, his long-time friend and co-worker, one of the most kind and beautiful women to ever exist, was standing right next to him?
That kind and beautiful woman then yawned hugely, and shook her head to clear it of the sleepiness fuzz. "You're sleepy?" he asked her. "Thought you couldn't sleep."
She shook her head. "Talking to you helps me relax. I mean, you bore me to sleep."
He smirked in appreciation of her joke, and then gestured to the city in front of them. "It's beautiful."
She shrugged. "You get used to it."
"That doesn't mean it gets any less beautiful," he whispered. "Or that you should begin taking it for granted."
And their eyes met. Hers were golden-brown, tawny and warm, insightful and still confused. Like pools of copper, they glinted with the light from the stars above them. But they were like copper behind a foggy window - not diluted, just a bit smoky, mysterious. As stunning as the last time he'd looked into them like this. She was stunning.
"Good night, Brian."
And then she'd practically hurtled herself through the opening created by the door she'd yanked open, and Brian was left with just the chilled night air for his company as it nearly slammed shut.
