To hide the key to your heart is to risk forgetting where you placed it.

Timothy Childers

I wake up several hours later, still on the floor, my head pounding and my neck stiff. I slowly get to my feet and make my way over to where the bottle lies shattered on the carpet. I start picking up the pieces, knowing that the glass is only the beginning.

Next, I go and get a damp cloth from the bathroom and wipe off the wall. I briefly wonder how I will explain the alcohol that the carpet soaked up, but then I decide I don't really care. Having to pay a few extra dollars on my hotel bill is the least of my worries.

When I'm done cleaning, I go back to the bathroom, dropping the wash cloth in the sink. Leaning forward, I stare at my reflection. The question Eric asked me a month ago echoes in my head as the answer stares back at me. I don't recognize myself. As I try to become familiar with the stranger in the mirror, I vow to myself that, whatever it takes, one day I will.

I quickly discard my clothes and step into the shower, making the water as hot as I can stand it. I brace my arms against the wall, allowing the water to beat down on me. Ten minutes later, I step out and rub a towel quickly over my head before wrapping it around my waist.

I go back into the bedroom and sit down on the bed. Reaching over, I grab the phone and order breakfast. By the time it arrives, I can actually declare myself presentable.

After breakfast, I go downstairs. I do a little shopping and even go in to the casino and stick some quarters into a few of the slot machines. When I come out an hour later and one hundred dollars ahead, I see the couple from the elevator coming out of one of the shops.

I don't know why, by I can't help following them, watching as they do things - normal, mundane things - that couples do. Things that I did with Sydney. Things that I wanted to do with Sydney. Things I'll never again get the chance to do with Sydney.

I turn away and walk to the closest of the hotel's six bars. I order a double and take it to a table in the corner. I nurse it, thinking about the fact that my resolve lasted all of three hours. I'm not kidding myself. I know this is going to be hard, but now I've started to wonder what will happen if I can't let this, let her, go. I'm reaching for the glass again when a waitress sets another glass on the table in front of me. I look up at her, confused. "I didn't order this."

She smiles back at me. "The lady at the bar sends her compliments."

I push it back towards her. "Thanks, but no thanks."

She raises her eyebrows and shakes her head before picking the drink back up and returning to the bar. I reach for my glass again and take a small sip. I don't know how long I sit here before the glass returns.

This time when I look up, I'm looking into the familiar eyes of an old friend.

"Well, Michael, I've never known you to refuse a drink from a woman before. Not very gentlemanly."

A smile creeps across my face. It's not the fake one I've used for the last several months. It's a genuine smile. "Sophie?"

"Why is it that everyone always calls me Sophie? It's not like it's a shorter version of my name or anything." She points to the chair. "Mind if I sit?"

I stand up quickly, pulling the seat out for her. "Please do. And to answer your question, you just don't seem like a Sophia. It's too…"

"It's too what?" she interrupts, her tone mischievous.

"Well I was going to say it's too sophisticated."

"Michael!" she squeals, slapping my shoulder.

"What?" I ask, feigning surprise at her reaction. "I said that's what I was going to say."

"So what are you going to say?" she asks as she reaches over and grabs my wrist, her nails digging slightly into my skin.

"Can I plead the Fifth?"

"Um," she pauses briefly before finishing. "NO!"

I extricate myself from her grasp, holding my arms in front of me in surrender. "Fine. I think it just seems too old for you."

She leans back in the chair, smiling. "I take back what I said about you not being gentlemanly," she states before taking a sip of her club soda.

I smile again. "So what are you doing here?"

She waves her hand in the air dismissively, "Oh, you know, this and that."

"In other words, you didn't have anything to do and decided to go to Vegas for a few days."

"Since when has Vegas ever been my idea of a fun getaway destination?"

I close my eyes, mentally chastising myself for what I've said. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay." She sees I'm about to apologize again and she stops me. "Really, Mike, it's okay. Ancient history." She takes a drink of her soda and leans forward. "Actually, I'm working. The magazine is doing an article on the hotel. I drew the short straw," she explains quietly.

I nod and reach for my glass. We don't speak for several minutes, each of us leaning back in our chairs relaxing, the silence neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. And then she just announces, "You look like shit."

I'm about to take a drink when she blurts that out. I just shake my head, my drink momentarily forgotten. "I see you still have your way with words."

She moves her chair so that she's sitting right next to me. Her hand lightly brushes my arm before she latches on to my wrist again. "Michael, I'm serious. I've never seen you like this. Even after…"

"I'm fine, Soph," I interrupt quickly. Downing the contents of my glass, I set it back on the table. "Really." I can see she's about to object so I hurriedly add, "You look good, though. Marriage must agree with you."

"No it doesn't and stop trying to change the subject. What the hell is going on? You having problems with Alice again?"

"No." I only wish it were something as simple as that. I reach for that drink I rejected once before. She deftly moves it just out of reach as my fingers brush the glass. I sit back in my chair and glare at her. Suddenly this little reunion has become something less than amusing. "What do you want, Sophia?" I ask, making sure I stress the a at the end of her name.

"Gone to my full name now. I must have hit a nerve."

"Sophie…" I know she can tell my patience is wearing very thin. What she doesn't realize is that there's none left.

"Fine, you want to know what I want? Okay, here it is. I want you to tell me what's going on. You don't normally sit in a bar at ten in the morning nursing a double shot of Jack on the rocks. So if it isn't Alice…"

"Damn it!" I yell as I lunge forward, grabbing the shot glass before she can move it again. I upend the glass, finish the shot in one gulp, and slam it back down on the table. I grab her hand, holding it in mine with a little more pressure than is necessary. "You want to know what's wrong? Well here it is. Sydney, my girlfriend, a woman I loved more than I ever thought possible, disappeared sixteen months ago without a trace while I was in the next room. The next fucking room. And in those sixteen months, I've seen her outside a restaurant in Rome. I've seen her in a casino in Monte Carlo. And, oh yeah, I've seen her dead in Los Angeles. So does that answer your God damn question?"

I finish my rant and try to flag down the waitress. I'm surprised to see the bartender is almost to our table. "Is there a problem here?" he asks, glaring at me before he turns his attention to Sophie.

"Everything's fine," she reassures him.

"You're sure?"

She smiles at him. "Yes."

He turns to go back to the bar, telling me when I ask for another drink that he thought I'd already had enough. I collapse against the chair, my anger, my frustration, suddenly gone. I look at the woman beside me expecting her to bolt. Instead, she slowly leans forward and wraps her arms around me.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers. And I can tell she means it. And it's my undoing.

********

"She was in the next room. She asked me to go check on her friend and when I came back, she was just, gone."

She pushes the coffee she'd ordered for me forward. "Michael, it's not your fault. She asked you to go make sure her friend, Will, was okay. You couldn't have known that this would happen. And if you hadn't gone, what would you have done, what would Sydney have done if Will had died?" She stops for a moment before continuing. "And if you hadn't gone, Sydney might have still disappeared."

"I would have been there to stop them."

"And you might have been killed. Honestly, whoever took her must not have wanted you dead."

"What?"

"Michael, you were in the next room. They had to know it. From what you've just told me, Will would have been no help and you weren't prepared to defend yourself. You could have been killed."

I hadn't really thought about it, but she might be right. If only that made a difference to me. "I should never have left her alone," I mutter sadly.

"You did what she asked. If you hadn't, maybe she wouldn't have been kidnapped. And if she hadn't what would she have done if you had let Will die because you were more concerned about her safety than she was? Would she have been able to forgive you? Would you have been able to forgive yourself?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly.

"Can I ask you something?"

I nod, "Go ahead."

"If Sydney saw you right now, what would she say?"

I start to answer and then stop, so Sophie answers for me. "I'm just guessing here, but I have a feeling she'd probably want to kick your ass for letting yourself go like you have. Now, I could be wrong. She might have been happy that you've moped around for as long as you have, but from what little you've told me, I somehow doubt that would be the case."

I look at the woman sitting next to me. "I wish I could say for certain, but I can't. Maybe that is part of the problem. Maybe it's just because I don't know if she's still alive or if she's not. I'd like to think I would have handled this better if I had known she was dead, but the truth is, I don't. I don't know that they way I've acted and reacted is wrong. I don't know that it is right. I just don't know."

She runs her hand lightly along my arm; it is more comforting than I expected. "Mike, you did what you thought was best at the time. You did what Sydney asked you to do. You can second guess yourself until you're blue in the face, but it's not going to change what happened. You have to start believing that. It wasn't your fault."

As I listen to her words, I wonder why they make more sense now than they did a month ago when Weiss tried to tell me basically the same thing. And then I realize that a month ago, I wasn't ready to hear them. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"I think you know."

She smiles and finishes her club soda. "You're welcome."

I grab the coffee, which has cooled considerably, and take a drink. Suddenly something she said earlier hits me. "What did you mean when you said marriage didn't agree with you?"

"I just meant that Matt and I didn't get married."

"Can I ask what happened?"

She laughs. "Mike, after what I just got you to tell me, I think I can tell you what happened between me and Matt."

"So?"

"Matt's advertising agency merged with another, larger, company. The woman who was sent as the liaison ended up working very closely with Matt and his staff. One night I went to surprise him with dinner and, to make a short story even shorter, I was the one who was surprised."

"I'm sorry, Soph."

She shrugs her shoulders. "Oh well, as it turned out, I threw myself into my work and managed to work my way up the food chain. And now instead of checking magazine copy, I'm writing it."

"Well whatever you've been doing, it seems to agree with you. You really do look great."

"I already said that you are still as much a gentleman as you ever were, so you can stop already," she says. She glances quickly at her watch. "Shit, Mike, I'm sorry, I have to go. I have a meeting I have to prep for."

"Okay." I stand up, helping her out of her chair. She picks up her bag and turns to leave, but I stop her. "Why don't we have dinner tonight? You know, catch up on all things boring."

"God, I'd love to, but I'm supposed to fly back tonight."

I nod slowly. I'm surprised to find that I'm a little disappointed by the fact that she won't be able to join me tonight. "I understand. It was good to see you."

She embraces me quickly, placing a light kiss on my cheek. "It's good seeing you too. Even if you do look like shit."

"Gee, thanks."

"I'll see you. Take care of yourself."

"You too," I say before giving her a final hug goodbye As I watch her go, I hear her words echo in my mind. If Sydney saw you right now, what would she say? Suddenly, the answer is clear. She almost to the door when I run to catch up with her.

My hand grasps hers as she reaches for the door. "Michael?"

I don't know if what I'm doing is right or wrong. I don't know if Sydney would approve or not. I just know that I need to do this. "Sophie, don't go back tonight. Stay. Please."

She doesn't even hesitate. She just nods her head. "Okay.

TBC… (only one part left)