"Lovely evening isn't it?" asked a man whose name Amanda couldn't remember as he fell into step beside her. He might have introduced himself as James. Or John.

She regretted not making a stronger effort to remember his name, but she hadn't realized it would matter when they first met. At the time, she thought he was another obnoxious businessman stopping in Defiance to visit the NeedWant, not to do any actual business. Men like that were a constant in the town.

"Yes. Lovely evening," Amanda replied politely, too politely. As much as she wanted to tell him off for buzzing around her like a wasp since he arrived a week earlier, she didn't have the luxury. He was a big shot with money to invest in her town, money that could finally make Defiance a desirable place to live again.

"Almost as lovely as you," he added through a boyish smile that contradicted the graying hair on his temples.

"Thank you," Amanda said in a practiced, political tone as if he had just complimented her on the state of her finances.

"Wow, you're a hard one to impress."

Amanda smiled and nodded. "I just know what I want," and it wasn't him.

"So, what is it that you want?"

"A happy, prosperous Defiance." She smiled smugly, burying her insolence behind a veneer of naivete. "I just want my people to be happy and safe. It's been a hard couple of years for all of us, and we're still recovering."

"Are you saying your job is your entire life?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation, more truth and pride in the statement than she was entirely comfortable with.

"Oh come on. You don't honestly expect me to believe that. You must do things for fun." He flashed her a flirtatious smile, more domineering than playful. He was hunting her, trying to win her like a prize. "Something to blow off steam, relieve a little stress."

"I work out," Amanda said, growing increasingly annoyed by his overly confident swagger. "Great stress relief."

"You know that's not what I mean."

Of course she did. He was as subtle as a hellbug. "You haven't actually told me what you mean."

"Then let me be frank." He stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop in the middle of the street.

"I have places to be," Amanda said with an impatient sigh as she shifted her feet in a failed attempt to get around him.

"You're a busy woman. I get it." He placed a hand on her bicep, blocking her path with his tall frame and broad shoulders. "So let me get right to the point. You like good scotch. I have money. A lot of money. I can buy you the best scotch in the NeedWant, the best meal at the best restaurant, the best everything."

She narrowed her eyes.

"And I do mean everything," he added with a wry smile.

"Such confidence." She leaned towards him, feeling the heat radiating from his body, taunting him with a flirtatious look and a long pause before adding, "And your little display of opulence might work on someone desperate enough to sleep with you for your money, but I make my own money. I certainly don't need you to buy me a drink. Or anything else."

"Ouch," he said.

"The truth hurts." She patted him on the chest like a dog. "Now if you'll excuse me. I'm going to go buy myself a drink. With my own money. At the NeedWant. Which I own."

"That really all you have to say to me?"

"No," Amanda said, logic winning over emotion. "In two days I'm giving a speech to this town. I want you there, among the people. I want you to see this town is worth investing in."

"I thought you said you don't need my money."

"I don't, but these people do. I'm not asking you to give your money to me. I'm asking you to invest in them. Not charity. Not payment for sex. Business." She turned and left him standing in the street without bothering to know his answer.

With a satisfied smile on her face, she walked directly into the NeedWant where she ordered a glass of scotch and gulped it down with pride. Her money. Her scotch. Her town. She just hoped her speech would be good enough to win him over without the promise of anything more from her.

"How drunk is too drunk?" Amanda asked the bartender as she stared into her nearly empty glass. "I don't think I know anymore."

"You're nowhere near that point yet. You're not even slurring your words." The Castithan woman swept her bobbed pink hair behind her ear and leaned across the bar. "And don't worry, sweetheart, I'll let you know before you've had too many."

Amanda froze, the word hitting her like a grenade. Every time she thought she had herself under control, the smallest thing sent her flailing, set her nerves on fire.

"You ok?" The bartender asked, confusion crossing her delicate features. "I'm sorry if the flirting was too much. I was just doing my job. You know how it is in here. I Didn't mean to upset you."

"I know, and I'm the one who should be apologizing. You didn't do anything wrong. This is all on me." Amanda smiled apologetically. "I just don't want to be called sweetheart. Anything but sweetheart."

"Sorry... honey."

"Thank you," Amanda said. "Honey… no one calls me that."

The woman flashed Amanda a breezy smile. "Well, now I do."

Amanda furrowed her brow at the easy way the woman spoke to her like she was just another nobody at her bar, another chance to earn some extra scrip before the weekend. "Do you know who I am?" Everyone knew who she was, that she was the mayor, that she didn't go for night porters. It felt almost foolish to ask.

"Nope. Just moved to town," she said. "But I'd gladly get to know you."

"You're cute," Amanda said like she was talking to a child and by the looks of things, this woman was probably about Alak's age, practically a child in Amanda's eyes, but nonetheless, she had an undeniable charm that would make her sister proud.

"Apparently not cute enough," she pouted, her eyes wide in a failed attempt at stirring Amanda's most basic desires… or stirring pity maybe. Whatever it was, it was the wrong tactic to try on Amanda.

Despite the woman's well-rehearsed sensuality, Amanda could only see the act she was putting on to make money. She had stood on the other side of that bar, listened to the night porters as they shared tips for seducing every lonely traveler who wandered into their bar. She couldn't be wooed by false eyelashes and soft glances any more than she could be wooed by strong arms and monetary incentive.

"No offense, truly, I mean no offense," Amanda said, "but you're not exactly what I'm looking for."

"No offense taken." The bartender stood up straight, her voice deepening as she accepted that Amanda wouldn't be the source of her night's income. "We all have our own desires." She pointed across the bar to a muscular Irathient night porter who reminded Amanda a bit of Sukar. "How about him?"

"Better," she said as she appraised the undeniably attractive man whose kind eyes could surely bring out a woman's hidden desires, "but he's not exactly what I'm looking for either."

"No?"

"No."

"You're a particular one, huh?" she asked, and with the seduction attempt behind them, she started to seem genuine, like someone Amanda could actually befriend. Perceptive and honest, like Kenya at her age.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"So, what do you want?"

Amanda let out a laugh. She'd been hit on by strangers more in one day than she had in the past year. "You know something… you're the second person who's asked me that today."

"And what did you tell the other person?"

Amanda scrunched her face as she admitted she had told him, "To fuck off, basically."

The bartender laughed in amusement. "Is that what you're going to tell me to do?"

"No." Amanda shook her head. "I wouldn't say that to you."

"Why not?"

"Because you remind me of my sister, but mostly because you can take a hint."

"Oof," the bartender tilted her head to the side. "Low bar."

"And yet," Amanda said, "it's one so many people fail to meet."

"Don't I know it." She smiled in solidarity as she stared at Amanda with more intensity than she had when she was trying to pick her up.

"What?" Amanda squirmed under the scrutiny. "Something in my teeth?"

"No, something in your eyes, something missing." A curious expression transformed her face. "People come here when they're lonely, and if you didn't come here for sex, then I figure you must have come here because you need to talk to someone."

"I have friends I can talk to," Amanda said defensively. "In fact, I've been doing more of that this week than I have in months."

"Maybe so, but sometimes you need a stranger who doesn't know your life. A stranger who works in a brothel and won't judge you. A stranger who won't be turned off by the answer to the question you refuse to answer."

"Which question?"

"What do you want?"

"The answer to that question isn't the great secret you seem to think it is," Amanda said. "No embarrassing kinks, no married lover I'm pining after. I just want someone I won't find in this bar. That's all."

"Oh." She flashed a sympathetic smile as she refilled Amanda's glass. "Someone who calls you sweetheart."

"He called lots of people sweetheart." A nostalgic smile played at her lips as she remembered Nolan calling Connor sweetheart. She couldn't imagine anyone in New York daring to call him that, and if she hadn't been on the brink of death at the time, she would have stopped to appreciate it.

"And you still love him," she stated. A fact. Not a question.

"Yeah."

"But he doesn't love you?"

"No, it's not that, not at all." Amanda smiled with confidence. "I suppose I should pretend to be humble and not assume words he never said, but I know he loves me… or he did… but it's complicated because he's… he's gone, and I don't think he's ever coming back."

"I'm sorry." The bartender squeezed Amanda's shoulder the way Amanda always used to squeeze Kenya's after she went through yet another brutal breakup. "But you'll be ok. I know we just met, but I can see it in your eyes. You're strong."

"I am." Amanda gently squeezed the woman's hand before she removed it from Amanda's shoulder. "And it's getting better."

"Really?" the woman asked with a skeptical expression.

"No," Amanda let out a pained laugh, tears once again stinging at her eyes. "But I'm hoping if I say that enough times, it'll become true."

"It will."

"If not, there's always denial," Amanda joked as she gathered her thoughts."It's just that I've been avoiding talking about him for months, and now that I've started, it seems it's all I can talk about. All I can think about. I feel like I'm stuck on a roller coaster. Professionally, I'm doing better than ever, but personally, I just want to go home and cry, and I have this huge, important speech to give in a few days that's only half written because I keep thinking about him and about what I've lost instead of thinking about what everyone else needs."

"Why are you worried about everyone else instead of yourself? Honey, if you need a good cry, go home, and let it out."

"That's not an option," Amanda said. "I'm the mayor. Caring about everyone else is my job. I need to sacrifice myself so they can be happy. I'd die for this town if I had to."

"Wait, you're Amanda Rosewater?"

"Guilty.

"Oh." The bartender perked up, and pride washed over Amanda. "People seem to love you here," she added. Amanda had worked her entire life to hear comments like that, and it gave her a rush like few things in life ever could.

"See," Amanda said. "I'm not a total drunken mess. I may have no personal life to speak of, but I am an excellent mayor."

"So I've heard. They say you saved this town with the help of that Indogene doctor and your boyfri…" she trailed off, the puzzle pieces falling together in her mind with a surge of emotion running across her face. Everyone knew Amanda's story. She had no secrets.

"Nolan," Amanda said. "My bo..est friend."

"The guy they named the arch after."

"That's the one."

"The stories about him are almost unbelievable," she said. "One of the Defiant Few. A ruthless villain turned father and hero. They say he died once and came back to life, that he survived months trapped underground in old St. Louis. Is any of that true?"

"All of it." Amanda grinned, proud to have known him. "That's Nolan."

"Sounds like the kind of guy you don't give up on. You sure he's not coming back, absolutely, positively sure?"

"I…" Amanda shook her head, unable to give her usual denial. With an unsteady voice, she said, "I can't be 100% sure of anything."

"Then don't give up on him," she insisted.

"Easier said than done. The man is trapped on a spaceship, god knows where, and I can't put my life on hold waiting for him when I know the odds aren't good."

"Is there someone else? Something you're not doing because he isn't here?"

"No," Amanda said, frowning as she realized that all this time she had been so terrified of letting herself fall apart like she had when Kenya left that she hadn't stopped to realize she was in no danger of that happening. This was nothing like Kenya. She wasn't living someone else's life, wasn't stuck in limbo, wasn't getting high to avoid her pain (only slightly drunk, but that was one demon she wasn't going to vanquish anytime soon). "I guess you're right. I'm not putting anything on hold. In fact, I'm thriving in so many ways, and I'm not looking for anyone new to fill his place in my life, not anytime soon."

"Then why have you given up on him?" She paused, looking into Amanda's eyes with wisdom beyond her years. "Oh, I see now… you're one of those pessimists, one of those people who thinks everything's always doomed."

"I am not," Amanda said defensively. "I'm the eternal optimist. Ask anyone. I had faith in this town when no one else did, and it's still standing. I admit that I faltered for a moment. I almost gave up, but in the end, I was right to believe we'd survive, and it's given me more optimism for this town than I've ever had before, more confidence in these people and in my ability to lead than I've ever had before."

"But none for him?"

Amanda let out a breath, her mind scrambling through her darkest feelings for an answer to the question before she finally said, "It's not him I don't have any optimism for." She took a deep breath. "It's me. He's not coming back to me because no one ever does. My mother, my sister… everyone I love leaves, and they don't come back. It's like the universe is out to get me, so of course, he's not coming back. Even if he's alive, he's not coming back to me."

"The universe isn't out to get anyone," she said, "least of all you, so let me give you the advice I think you need more than you're willing to admit… You need to believe in him, but most of all, you need to believe in yourself because if you can't do that, no one else will."

"That... is surprisingly good advice."

"I know." She smirked before turning serious. "I just have one more question for you."

"What's that?"

"What do you want? No beating around the bush. No vague answers. What do you want?"

"I want Nolan to come home," she answered without hesitation, without tears in her eyes. "I want to tell him I love him, and I want him standing at my side when the next big crisis comes to town because I know it will, and I'll need him, but above all else, I just want believe in him the way he deserves because if he can survive death, he can survive space. I want to have that kind of optimism."

"And you can. You just need to let yourself believe that you can be as happy as you believe everyone else can be." She smiled like she was about to say more, but then a customer flagged her down, and all she said was, "Sorry. Duty calls."

"Of course. Thank you. Go. Do your job."

"And if you ever need to talk to a non-judgmental face, I'm here," she added with a smile.

"Thank you," Amanda repeated before taking a sip from her glass.

For the first time, Amanda entertained the idea that maybe she shouldn't have given up on Nolan so quickly, that maybe it wasn't him she had given up on, that maybe she should have listened to Irisa all those months ago. She wasn't ready to say with certainty that they would find their happily ever after, but she was finally ready to have a conversation she had long avoided.

"Hey," a familiar voice said from behind her.

"Speak of the Devil," Amanda said as she turned to see Irisa approaching her... returning from the second floor of the NeedWant.

That was unexpected.