He woke the next day to the smell of cinnamon. Wandering out into the kitchen, he found his cellmate happily frosting a pan full of large buns. "Something smells delicious."

"Just about ready. Have a seat."

She'd already set the table. He shook his head; whatever made her happy.

She plopped a sticky roll onto his plate, and took the other chair. He tried a bite, and bit back a groan. "Mel, these are... well, sure. Show my poor pancakes up. Go on."

She laughed. "You can't compare cinnamon buns to pancakes! They're too different."

He shrugged. "No, seriously, show me up. I told ya magic food has nothing on the real thing."

She nodded towards the ingredients. "This IS magic food. I just made it by hand."

He winked. "So you can work magic, huh? And you're better at it than me, too."

She smiled, shaking her head. He was just happy to see her smile. They finished up breakfast, and for a second, he consider just making the mess vanish. He quickly reconsidered, picked up his dishes, and carried them to the sink.

She smiled at him as she started scrubbing the plate, handing it to him to dry. It had been a long time since he'd bother to just wash dishes, but he was sure it had never been fun. He wondered why for a brief moment, and then came to the startling realization that he wanted to lean forward and give her a peck on the cheek.

He gulped, and took a hasty step back, trying not to sigh too loudly. It was going to be very hard to avoid her while they were both stuck in this lamp.

*.*.*.*.*

It'd only been a few hours, and already he was exasperated again. She still didn't like the magic, and she was only getting less tolerant of it as time passed. After all she'd been through, he certainly didn't blame her. But she didn't like him waiting on her, either. After she came to grips with the fact that if she tried to so much as get up for a glass of water he'd run to get it for her, she'd taken to sitting sullenly, not daring to move less she impose upon his kindness.

It was grating his nerves like sandpaper. He glanced at the clock, and got up, smiling reassuringly when she shot a worried look at him. "You didn't bat an eye, Mel. It's just lunchtime, is all, and since you made breakfast..." he waved his hand, unable to resist another stab at impressing her. The cinnamon buns would be hard to top, but he doubted she'd ever had Mexican food.

Sure enough, when the strange new food appeared in front of her, curiosity replaced the reprimand in her eyes.

"Okay, so these are tacos, and what you do is you scoop the meat into either a soft shell, or a hard one, and then you pick your toppings. I'd definitely start with the sour cream and cheddar cheese if I were you."

She hesitated, so he started putting a taco together to show her. He hoped she appreciated the fact that she could get her own meal, magically provided or not.

At her first bite, her face lit up. "This is really good."

"Thanks." For some reason, a joking response just wouldn't flow. He was glad when she smiled.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

He'd unwittingly started a new game. At suppertime, she'd meekly asked if it wasn't her turn to cook again. He'd sighed, and relented, as long as she didn't over-do it. Apparently her answer to tacos was chicken pot pie.

It might not have been a new dish to him, but he'd never tasted anything like her cooking. Without the magic of the lamp intervening, and creating the user's favorite flavor combinations, he was at a disadvantage. Once the competition had died down, he'd have to pick her brain about the flavor combinations and spices she used.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The next morning, he introduced her to bacon and eggs. He wondered about the twinkle in her eye, until she one-upped him with a steak lunch.

He was really starting to get into the game. His magic, and wide knowledge of foods from past and future alike, were barely enough to keep him competing with her skill and knowledge in the kitchen.

The pizza he made for supper was such a big hit, he launched her into a bonus round that ended up being one of the moistest cakes he'd ever eaten. He wanted to retaliate with a side of ice-cream, but was forced to begrudgingly admit that the cake was so rich on it's own, the ice-cream would have been childish.

The food was great, but the best part was watching the pain of her past, and the worry over his future melt away around meal times due to the friendly competition.

He felt less lonely, but as confined as ever. She, on the other hand, blossomed in her captivity. He supposed that, to her, the lamp was keeping everything out. He was afraid that, as time went on, she'd come to realize just what that meant, but he wasn't going spoil her time here, now.

He wandered into he living room, where she was curled up with a book. He crept closer to sneak a peak at the cover, grinning sheepishly when she lowered it with an amused expression.

"I was, uh, just trying to make sure you weren't reading a cook book. You're hard enough to keep up with on your own."

She laughed, a rich, musical, sound that was pure happiness. "I'm going to need one at the rate you're going. It's infuriating trying to stay one step ahead of you. No, right now I'm just reading." She held the book up for him to see.

"You know, I've been going to that one for years now, but I can never seem to get past the first page. You'll have to let me know how it is."

"I'm not very far in. I could read out loud."

He blinked. It hadn't been what he was going for, but... "You don't mind?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "Not at all. Once upon a time, there was a …."

Listening to her voice was far more interesting than staring at the words on the page, but it still wasn't enough to settle his mind.

Every day that went by without Dows rubbing the lamp lifted Melina"s spirits, and grew his uneasiness. He'd had his job long enough to know that something was brewing, and when he thought of what a man with unlimited wishes and time to think could do... he felt sick. No one should have that much power, under any... he glanced over at Mel, curled up on a cushion, happily reading with that warm, musical voice, then shook his head... under almost any circumstances. He just wished the poor kid's 'freedom' hadn't come at such a high cost. He knew her well enough to know how quickly her joy would shatter once the wishes started destroying people.

She glanced over at him, and worry clouded her gaze. He quickly forced a smile to his face, pretending everything was just fine. She smiled back, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. So she felt the storm brewing, too. Poor thing.

Something was about to happen.

And it wasn't something good.