I didn't plan on writing anymore D/H stuff, or posting any beside the things I've already written and haven't posted, however, I did start a sequel for this story a long time ago. I'm not sure if I want to put the time into continuing it, but I've received such amazing feedback that it encourages me. If I get enough people that are interested I'll at least *try* and write more to it. So, let me know and . . . read on . . .

**

When I pull back she's hardly inches away and she looks at me with a heady expression and her breath falls against my mouth. I want to kiss her again, to feel her tongue against mine this time, but she pulls away, crawling back and putting a hand on the tuck in her towel that, if I'd thought about it I might have put a hand over it myself.

I don't say anything as she sits on her knees and looks at me and I think she's waiting for a confirmation that this was a mistake, but I don't say anything. And she blinks and smiles.

"Birthday kiss. Thanks."

And she says it so simply that I squint my eyes at her, but she ignores me, getting up to grab her clothes and go into the bathroom.

**

I'm going to ignore it. He can't make me acknowledge the fact that we kissed twice now, and he shouldn't even try. We're friends . . . what a joke.

I look at my reflection. Homewrecker. Whether I was hurt last night or not, he IS with Miss Perfect Nun Davis, and I just seemed to forget that little fact when it was convenient. Shutting my eyes tightly I remember what I told myself. Don't think about it now, let it go until later, it will still be just as big a problem then. Opening them up I look at my disbelieving face and shake my head, what am I saying?

I'll just forget it.

Because it was nothing.

And yet I still can't let go of the sink or I'm going to drop like a stone.

Great birthday.

It takes my over twenty minutes to dress in the black shorts and a tee shirt with some catchy little picture I wore the first night I came here. Great memory. Putting on my make-up takes a while too since it takes me a too long to get up from the edge of the tub and will myself to act normally. With a deep breath I look at the door and force myself forward . . . to smell bacon.

I walk through the empty bedroom, following the smell to the kitchen where Harry stands at the stove, still in his pajama pants and wonderfully bare chest . . . Boy; my self-control plan is working well.

"Your birthday breakfast," he tells me as he puts some eggs onto a plate as I sit. And he smiles.

Harry doesn't just smile for anything, you might get a half smile, you can get a smirk, but a full smile, you have to work for those, and something like that stirs you when you get it. I drop my eyes to the plate and stab the eggs. He can't make me acknowledge those kisses. Na na na na.

The eggs aren't salty; this time pepper is the one to overpower, but not enough to make you choke. And, just like the first time he made them, he looks at me for the verdict.

"Delicious," I tell him like before with another forkful, and they are. He made eggs for me. This thought still boggles my mind and I don't know why that is. "I just can't believe you cooked for me." Then I catch myself to add, "With your hand."

"It's all about special days, your birthday, the day after a robbery, you know, times you want to remember," he cracks. I eat the eggs and he flips the bacon with his good hand, there is a lull before he speaks again. "Dana, I wanted to tell you something."

**

Am I actually going to say this? On one hand it could sound like I was planning something and on the other . . . I just want to set the record straight.

I turn the bacon off and leave it on the stove as I go to sit across from her, tapping the glass of juice I poured for myself.

"About Lauren and I."

"You don't have to explain," she answers automatically, dropping her fork and doing the same to her glass.

"I'm not explaining, just correcting." I clarify. "Lauren and I aren't together, we haven't been for a while."

"A couple days?" she smarts before wincing, probably mentally berating herself for spitting that out.

I pull back and shrug. "Longer than that, but . . ."

"I know how it is," she nods. "You get . . . you need someone."

I start to speak, but she just shakes her head.

"I'm not going to condemn you for it, Harry, if that's the problem. Besides you're human and I know how it is." I see a wall go up before my eyes and she stands to go set her plate on the sink and smirks a little bitterly. "You don't think I had boyfriends when I was trying to ignore a crush on the great Harry Senate?"

"Dana, if you're trying to make me jealous--"

"I don't need to make you jealous, Harry, that time came and went."

"Not according to what I've seen," I can't help saying. She stands stunned and I didn't mean to say it like that, I wasn't trying to refer to that night, but I think she is. "I didn't mean then, before, I just--"

"No, it's fine. This was just . . . living here was a big mistake."

"You're the one that begged to--"

"BEGGED?!"

Begged? Shit, it's pretty bad when you don't realize what you're saying until someone repeats it.

"Well I'm not *begging* anymore, Harry. I can find someplace else," she says brushing past me.

"Running away again."

"No, that's YOUR area."

"I don't think so!" I say as I grab her arm. "I didn't rush out of the bedroom like someone lit a fire under my ass!"

"And I didn't miss my ex and decide I needed a PIECE!"

"NEITHER DID I!"

"Right, Harry." She pulls away and heads into the bedroom, accidentally hitting the dresser, the papers from the hospital falling to the floor.

"You can't run from everything!"

"I can try, you're doing well!" We're just going in circles and she spins to confront me as I follow her. "WHAT do you want?"

"I told you it was over!"

"What?"

. . . For a minute it was like she had no idea what I was saying. And then I see that we went off topic, she wasn't talking about Lauren anymore. My eyes fall on the hospital papers and I step forward.

"She's going to be okay, Dana."

**

She's not. She'll never be okay.

"I know."

"No. You don't," he says firmly. "She IS going to be okay."

And I can't lie anymore, to him or myself, "NO! She's isn't! She has a problem she doesn't care about! She blacked out in the STREET and she doesn't CARE! She's not okay; she'll never BE okay! And I CAN'T be like her. Her whole life fell down around her and she couldn't handle it . . . and I couldn't help her."

"You were just a kid."

I snort a laugh and look at him. "You sound like everyone else when they hear a sob story like that. You were just a kid; it wasn't your fault. But I can't help the feeling that tells me it was, and you can't stop that, no one can. And now, I'm not a kid anymore and I still can't help her."

"When she wants the help she'll come to you."

"And until then?" I ask quietly. Sitting next to me he draws me close enough so I can put my head on his shoulder and I silently thank him for it.

"Until then you have to wait."

". . . That's the worst advice ever."

He chuckles softly and holds me closer.

**

I think she feels better, after a couple hours of the Today show and orange juice. We sat in silence for almost ten minutes before she got up to turn on the TV and sat on the cushions, I picked up the papers, went to get dressed, ate a bacon sandwich, and got us something to drink before I sat right next to her again.

"Katie Couric is kind of gummy," she says after a while. "You know, when she smiles."

"Oh. Yeah."

"You got to admire her morning perkiness," she says slumping a little and stretching out her legs. "You don't have that."

"Says who? You had breakfast." I catch the clock's numbers and sit up. "My mother's leaving, I said I'd drive her to the airport, up for a ride?"

"Sure, you can pick up my present on the way there." She gets up, smiling. We aren't avoiding much anymore, just moving on.

**

When we pull up in front of the very posh-looking hotel Rena is already standing there with a smile and a suitcase. I get out to greet her and kiss her cheek as I step aside.

"Don't even think about it. You have the front seat."

"No, really, you take it, you can talk with Harry."

"I insist," she tells me firmly, already opening the back door and getting in. A little unsure I go in the front seat again to see Harry's expression clearly telling me you can't fight her. "I'm just so happy to see you two talking."

Her pointed look at Harry makes me open my mouth to ask something smart- ass, but I just snap it shut instead and look on with a smile.

We pull out and head for the airport, hitting a slightly busy intersection along the way. The car is on, the radio off, but no one is speaking. Rena seems happy enough to enjoy the view and take joy in the fact that she doesn't have two little whiners bickering, but Harry keeps looking in the rearview mirror, almost about to say something before cutting it off.

Until finally he asks.

"How was your visit?"

Did Harry just say that in a completely sincere way?

I'm a little too busy gaping at him but I can imagine Rena's huge grin as she answers. "Why, it was wonderful."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that," he says, forcing a smile into the mirror that, though extremely put-on, is for a good cause. You see that? When he does stuff like this . . . it's completely his fault I'm always confused about the friend line, stuff like this makes me want to jump on him.

"We had a lovely little talk about the old days, and the places we used to hang out . . . He asked about you," she reveals in a way that's so utterly hopeful you want to rally around her in making Harry care. But I don't want to be caught in between the ongoing battle of love and hate for an absentee- father Senate, besides, I have major issues in that department anyway and might come out on Harry's side.

"He did . . . that's . . ." I know he want's to say 'pointless', but he searches for something else. "Pointless."

Okay, guess he didn't find something else.

Rena reaches out from the back seat and pats his arm. "At least you're trying, dear."

**

My mom's leaving. Kinda makes me want to pout, but at twenty-eight, and MALE, I'd say that's not an option. I was never a Mama's Boy, but there were a lot of years we had to stick together, every once in a while, when I see her, that comes back to me.

She's hugging Dana, who sat in the seat and did not complain that we didn't pick up her gift yet. But being that she probably doesn't want my mother to know she just turned eighteen either makes a lot of sense.

"Now I want you two to visit me! Harrison never brings his girlfriends to meet me unless I drop in on him unexpectedly. Case in point," she jokes pulling back from her hug. Before I can correct her on the 'girlfriend' comment she goes on. It'd be for Dana's benefit anyway, I don't care who thinks we're together anymore, I'm trying to reach that goal anyway. "And I want you to meet Charlie, too, he'll love you. OH! We'll go sailing!"

"I don't know if I'm normal enough to see a psychiatrist socially," Dana jokes.

"But what about the boat?" I ask her encouragingly. "Nothing says 'vacation' like motion sickness." Or a boring, droning man named Charlie.

"Oh hush!" my mother reprimands. She comes over and gives me a tight hug as she they announce her plane and she sighs. "I do miss Charlie, but I hate to leave you all the time."

"I am a grown-up," I remind.

"In age or maturity?" she questions, picking up perfect on the unintentional set-up before a smile and a couple light taps on my cheek before it rests there. "Call me, my darling offspring, and I mean often."

"I will."

"Says the man whose answering machine talks to me more often!"

"Mom--"

"And Dana," she goes on, reaching out to hold her hand. "You'll call me too, won't you? Let me know what's going on in your lives."

"Of course I will," she smiles sweetly, before looking at me, her eyes momentarily bright. She's beautiful. They call her flight again and she glances up at the speaker.

"Oh, there's the announcement again. I better go. I love you," she tells me before kissing my cheek. "And I absolutely adore you," she tells Dana with another quick hug. Then pinching her cheek she adds, "And I'm still positively jealous of that skin!"

With that and a smile my mother leaves.