"And the winner of the 2005 Time Magazine Man of the Year Award is…Chas Kramer."

It took a moment for it to really sink in- Chas's eyes widened and he sat, stunned, waiting for someone to wake him up. In fact, people were slapping him on the back, whistling, cheering, some calling for a speech, and after a few moments he couldn't help but smile.

He stood up and walked to the podium, giving a shy grin to his audience as the presenter handed him the trophy. He stared at it for a moment in disbelief before the presenter gently pulled him up to the podium.

Chas felt like his mouth was full of cotton, his throat dry, his chest tight. He hadn't expected to win, being up against a Nobel Prize winner and being the youngest among the nominees.

The crowd quieted, waiting on Chas to speak, and Chas chuckled nervously.

"I, uh…well my agent wanted to prepare an acceptance speech for me, but I told him that it wasn't necessary because I was certain I wouldn't win," he said, drawing a laugh from the audience. "Certainly, the other nominees have every right to this honor as well, and I consider it my greatest point of pride that America chose me."

Chas hesitated, and his eyes met John's for a brief moment. John nodded.

"There are just two people I'd like to thank, then I'll shut up so you people can get to the party phase of this shindig," Chas said, and he got a murmur of appreciation and humor from the crowd. "First of all, I'd like to thank Miss Kenya Pennington. Kenya, I can't even begin to describe how much I appreciate you. You've been there for me from the start, introducing me to the right people, helping me make friends in high places…reminding me that a red tie doesn't go with a yellow shirt."

A good laugh from the crowd that time. Chas was feeling better, the nervous butterflies mostly gone. "And I'd also like to thank a man that many of you don't know, though I'm sure you've seen me with him enough," he continued, and then he smiled at John. "John…you're the one who gave me this chance. From the very beginning you were there for me, telling me that I could make it through whatever came up, if I just put my mind to it. You were right. And for having that confidence in me…I can't thank you enough. Every shot I take at the Masters this weekend is for you."

Chas hesitated again, watching people whisper, and watching John blush and duck his head. People who knew who he was were pointing him out to people who didn't, whispering and gossiping.

"Once again, thank you. I won't take up any more of your time. Go have fun, that's what you're all here for anyway," Chas said with a smile, and before he even got off the stage he was getting a standing ovation. As he passed Kenya's table she stood up and hugged him, whispering a quick congratulations and a thank you. He kissed the top of her head, and then moved on to his table.

He hesitated, smiling at John. As if he understood without words, John stood up and pulled Chas into a tight hug. Their first hug in public. Anyone watching could convince themselves it was a 'thank you' hug, strictly a friendly gesture, but to Chas it felt as intimate as a hug in a room alone.

"Thanks, kid," John whispered before pulling away and ruffling Chas's hair. Chas grinned and they sat down, listening as the presenter finished up the ceremony.

Soon the people moved into another room, which turned into a party (actually, Chas wouldn't call it a party, more like rich people's version of a party), with lots of wine, snacks, and a string quartet playing.

A waiter offered Chas a glass of wine, and he took it, walking over to where Ferguson was talking with one of the other nominees, a prominent movie director.

"Well, if it isn't the man of the hour," the director said, shaking Chas's hand eagerly.

"Chas, I'm sure you know Tellier Louis," Ferguson said. "I was just talking to him about a possible movie deal."

Chas took a drink of his wine. "Movie deal?" He repeated, confused.

"I've been following your career closely, Mr. Kramer," Louis said, his French accent slightly muddling his words. "And I'd like to have the rights to a movie based on your life and career."

"Wow," Chas shook his head in disbelief, momentarily speechless. "Wow. I…I'm flattered, sir, really…"

Louis's smile widened. "And I'd like to take a new course with the biography movie tradition. If you give me the honor of telling your life story, I would like you to star in the movie. As yourself. And Kenya as herself as well."

Ferguson grabbed Chas's shoulder. "3 million for the rights. 2 million to star in it," he said, and then he leaned in. "And with this guy's track record, you could make millions after the fact just from the promotion and appearances."

Chas was grinning from ear to ear. "Really? Seriously? You want me to star in my own movie?"

Louis nodded emphatically. "Nobody else could capture your humor, and that swing of yours. And it's not as if you're sore on the eyes, my friend."

Chas blushed and laughed. "Thank you. I guess Ferguson can set up a meeting, we can discuss this more, but…to be honest, I'd really love to take up this project."

Louis shook Chas's hand again. "Thank you, Mr. Kramer. I'll get my best screenwriter on the project, see what we can come up with before the meeting."

Ferguson and Louis started chatting away, and despite the giddy feeling from the news he'd just received, he felt a little…dizzy. Off-balance. He took another drink of wine, hoping to settle his stomach- it was probably because he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

"Chas!"

Chas turned around and spotted Kenya and John waiting on him across the room. He headed over there, trying to shake off the sick feeling.

"What was that about?" Kenya asked. "You looked pretty happy over there."

"Louis wants to do a movie about me," Chas said, still a bit numb to the prospect.

"You should've expected it. You're hot stuff, Chas," Kenya said with a smirk. Chas would've laughed if he didn't feel so damn awful now. He felt so hot he was sure he was sweating, his stomach was churning, and he felt a headache coming on.

"That'll be a box office snore," John teased, and Kenya smacked him with her purse. Another dizzy spell hit Chas, another wave of nausea, and he raised a hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Chas? You alright?" Kenya asked, and Chas nodded.

"Yeah, just a headache. I think I'm gonna head home early," Chas said, and John's eyes narrowed.

"Want me to drive you home?"

"No, I'll be fine," Chas insisted, taking another sip of his wine before setting it on the tray of a passing waiter. "Besides, you have that early flight to Italy tomorrow, don't you?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts, John, I'm not gonna let you stay up babying me when you have a full day ahead of you," Chas said. "I'll be okay. I'm just gonna go home and sleep it off."

Kenya shrugged. "Call me or John if you need anything, alright?"

"I will."

By the time Chas made it to his apartment, he knew something was very wrong.

He had barely made it inside before the dizziness and the nausea became overpowering. He stumbled and leaned against the wall, the floor uneven and moving beneath his feet.

Call Kenya. Call John. 911. Anybody, he thought, fumbling around for his cell phone. He stumbled and fell against the wall this time, the cell phone dropping to the floor. He reached for it…only to have it kicked away from his hand.

He didn't even have a chance to look up before a hand grabbed the back of the collar of his shirt and yanked back, and then a hand covered his nose and mouth. Too disoriented and weak to fight the attacker off effectively, Chas could only kick and attempt to scream until another person grabbed onto his feet.

"He's almost out. Let's go, out the back," a voice said, a voice that was distant. Chas couldn't struggle anymore; he was too dazed, too confused, and in too much pain. As they lifted him from the floor, the hallway spiraled into darkness.