Sorry this is late, everyone. I had all but the last page written by the beginning of last week, when RL got in the way. To compensate, though, this chapter's a little longer than the average...and I think you'll like that the last page got written. ;)

Black Knight 03, as I said, it's not The Frog Prince and I couldn't make the bubble universe connection really obvious, but the inspiration was all you! So I hope it's okay!? Jay (I get it! :D), of course you can join the Hopeless Romantics Support Group! Especially as I have been so fortunate as to join—in a manner of speaking—your c2. ::preening and blowing movie-star kisses:: Thank you, dahling! MP, I hope you'll like what's in store, too...and as for The Elegant Universe, I've heard of it, but I haven't seen it...might be able to find some info online, though. :) I know, Lara783, you'd think she'd pick up on all those hints Zev's throwing at her, but she's a little preoccupied, I think. But this chapter...well, you'll see.... ;) Thank you so much, PaLM TRee 101, and don't worry about the review—I love 'em when I get 'em! Is your writer's block gone? Yeesh. I hate that! Three points, hmm, Mysteriously Unique? Let's see: 1) thank you! 2) read on, darling! 3) gonna have to work on this, I think...I'll see what I can do! How's that? swim6516, I think this chapter'll make you happy...or half-happy, at least. Maybe that'll offset the icky cafeteria food? Elise Foster, procrastinate away! That's (partially) what I'm here for! ;D And I'm so glad you like the L and Z friendship...I became rather fond of Zev, myself, and I think that made the friendship go a way I didn't at all expect. Thank you, bojanglesbiscuit, and I am back! (By the way, do you know the song "Mr. Bojangles" by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band? Probably just making a fool of myself, but I had to ask...)

Chapter 21: Between Stars

"So, who do you think this crane-fisherman guy's gonna be?"

Lizzie, watching the island greenery fly away beneath the carpet, jerked her head up at Gordo's sudden question—the first thing either of them had said since leaving Zev and Judith in the palace. "What?" she asked, then clearing the rust from her voice, "What do you mean?"

"Well, so far every...er, being...that's helped us on this journey has worn the shape, in some way, of one of our friends." He laughed a little. "Or our enemies. So, I'm trying to figure out who this crane guy's gonna be. Any ideas?"

"Hmm." Eyes scanning the distant blue horizon, Lizzie considered the question. "We've pretty much gone through all our good friends—and enemies—already. Maybe someone in our families? I mean, the mother of the Sun was my mom, so...." She shrugged.

"True." He dipped his head in a slight nod. "And going by that, the Dragon King is probably your dad, but that doesn't tell us who the crane is. Although, if the Dragon King is your dad, it's possible his daughter, the turtle, might be you."

"Me?" Lizzie laughed. "Gordo, I'm already here."

"So what? Maybe you and I both have a double here just like our friends."

"Which would just be weird." Imagining all too easily having a conversation with an utterly foreign version of herself, Lizzie grimaced, reiterated, "Weird."

"Still, it could happen. And the family relationship in the bubble universe means it makes sense." He paused a moment, then said, "So, if you're the turtle, who's the crane?"

She really didn't like where this hypothetical situation was going. "If I'm the turtle—if, Gordo—then I guess the crane would have to be, I don't know, the Love of my Life or something." You, echoed in her head. Shaking the voice away, she continued, "But if that's true, Gordo, I really, really hope that the bubble universe isn't an indicator of what our futures are going to be like. Imagine, the Love of my Life leaving me forever for the sake of a stupid box." No, she definitely didn't like where this was going.

"Well, it doesn't have to be a box, Liz. I mean, this is a fairy tale. The box could be a metaphor for something else. Something the, uh, the guy, um, in your life is really curious about, something he wants to experience. Like, uh, I don't know, a career...or world travel—"

"Or another woman?" Lizzie interjected, swallowing at the sick, metallic taste flooding her tongue. The idea of Gordo, director extraordinaire, walking the red carpet with some beautiful starlet...she shuddered. "You're not helping, you know."

"Not another woman, Lizzie. I don't think he'd be after another woman." His voice was distant, pensive—as though the question was purely academic. Funny, considering that the night before when they'd discussed how the bubble universe related to their own reality, Gordo'd been convinced there was a parallel. He ought to know it was her potential life he was so blithely dissecting. "I think the fairy tale would be more explicit if the box truly represented another woman."

Wonderful. "So, instead, the Love of my Life will leave me for his career. That's so much better, Gordo. Thanks."

The sarcasm, at least, seemed to get through to him. His back straightened and he turned his head a little as though to find her eyes. "Liz," he said, voice close, earnest, "I don't think it's true. I'm just, you know, thinking about the possibility of, well, you being the turtle, and m-the Love of your Life being the crane. It's stupid. The Love of your Life would never leave you. He'd have to be the dumbest man on earth. And he's not."

Lizzie blinked. "He's not? Why, you have someone in mind for the position?" Oh, she really, really wanted to think that he did. That the man was him.

But Gordo was shaking his head. "No, of course not." But there was something in his tone...if only she could see his face. "It's just, you know, you won't fall in love with someone like that. Someone like...someone stupid. Uh. A-all junior high crushes on Ethan Craft aside, of course."

"Of course," she echoed. Was he babbling? Impossible. Gordo babbled about as often as he failed a test. That is, never.

If not babbling, though, he was certainly doing a fine imitation of it. "But, then, no man would be stupid enough to leave you. I mean...I mean, I'm just your, you know, your best friend and I've never left you alone for...um, ever, actually. Except the occasional family vacation, that is. And, well, the media workshop this summer. Which is kind of career-like—" And his voice stopped. Just ended, which was also very unlike Gordo, not that Lizzie was paying very close attention anymore.

Hmph. She had just started to like that conversation—babbling included—and then he had to remind her of that stupid, stupid workshop. Which was, as he'd said, career-like. Which he was, as he'd said, going to leave her for. Temporarily, granted, but still...what if it was really the beginning of a pattern? What if she did declare her love and he declared it back and they got together only for him to end up spending most of his time, all of his life and his passion in his work?

This whole fairy tale bubble universe predicting their reality thing sucked.

And so did wondering all the damned time about all the things that could go wrong.

There were no guarantees. About anything. About whether Gordo loved her. Or if he did, that they'd be happy. Or if they were happy, it wouldn't all end someday in some unknowable, horrific way.

So, why was she worrying again? Why did she care? She might as well take the chance and tell him the truth. Zev was correct about that. If nothing else went right, Gordo at least deserved to know the truth about her feelings for him.

And he would. Because she would tell him. Soon.

After they found this crane-fisherman person.

Lizzie spotted him first, on a solitary rock not far from the shore. He was standing so still that, were it not for the snow brilliance of his body and a cap of crimson marking his head, he would have been invisible.

To Gordo, the crane apparently was invisible. He made no move to turn the carpet toward the rock, and Lizzie had to tug on his sleeve several times to gain his attention.

"What?" he asked, sounding dazed, sleepy. Lizzie merely pointed to the crane. "Oh!" Much more awake now, "Thanks!" Immediately the carpet swooped down and around, slowing until by the time they reached the rock, they were barely moving. Gordo settled the carpet to earth and for a long moment, they merely sat there, looking up long, skinny legs, past the sinuous curve of black-feathered neck, beyond the sharp, narrow spike of the crane's bill to meet his eyes, dark and deep.

"Hi," Gordo breathed in front of her, easing to his feet. "I hope you're the crane we've been looking for. The mother of the Sun said you would help us find the Dragon King. Do you know where he is?"

The crane didn't answer, only looked and looked at Gordo. And just when Lizzie was readying herself to stand and try her own hand at communicating, the bird turned and, with a beat of powerful, black-edged wings, launched himself into the air and flew away.

"Well," Gordo said, turning around. "Wrong bird?"

Lizzie grinned. "Or maybe he thought you were rude. Maybe he's used to people who bring him fish or seaweed before asking him important questions."

He grinned back. "Or maybe I just don't speak the language."

"Either way," she shrugged, "what do you want to do? Stay? Go?"

Gordo frowned. "Do you see any other cranes around? This is supposed to be the place." He started in a small circle, scanning the land and water around them. "I say we wait a—Lizzie." His beckoning hand brought her to her feet where, over his shoulder, she saw the crane flying back.

"That was fast," she said. "Assuming that crane is our crane, anyway. It is, right?"

Gordo nodded. "Look below him, in the water." Her eyes shifted down, and at first she couldn't make out anything beyond the waves undulating in lazy swells. Then, something distinctly green rose out of the water, streaming ripples behind it.

"The turtle," she whispered. Gordo only nodded again, and in silence they watched as crane and turtle drew nearer. The turtle arrived first, swimming right up to the rock where it raised its head, watched them both for a long moment through soft, limpid eyes, then spun to face the open sea again.

"I guess they're not gonna talk to us," Lizzie murmured.

"Maybe they can't," came Gordo's quiet answer. "Which doesn't exactly help us know what we're supposed to do."

True. Yet when the crane made a spectacular, windy landing, Lizzie stepped from behind Gordo and, bottom lip caught between her teeth, dipped a brief bow. "Thank you, sir," she said, trying to forget it was a very large bird with whom she was attempting to speak. "Is the turtle—" she gestured vaguely at the water behind them, "—supposed to take us to the Dragon King?"

The crane, of course, didn't answer. Cocking his head to one side, he merely watched her for a minute. Then, just as she was starting to get used to that extremely disquieting stare, the sharp-pointed beak lunged toward them, sending Lizzie, then Gordo, scrambling back to the edge of the rock. Behind them, serenely bobbing atop the waves, the turtle yet waited.

"I think that's our cue," Gordo said, hand finding hers. Lizzie grabbed it tight, nodded, and with a dip of her head to the crane, stepped without protest from the rock to the turtle's back. Gordo followed almost before her second foot found balance, and then they were kneeling and finding cold, salty grips on the edge of the wide, hard shell.

"How're we going to breathe underwater?" Lizzie asked.

Gordo shrugged. "I have no idea. But this is a fairy tale, so I figure it has to work somehow." Which, really, wasn't altogether reassuring. But she wasn't given the chance to voice that opinion, as the turtle jolted into movement. Fingers curling tighter, Lizzie resolutely turned her eyes from the too-close lapping waves. Instead, she fixed her attention entirely on Gordo, who—despite all obvious efforts to the contrary—looked just as grim as she felt.

He did serve as a very effective distraction, though, and it was some time before Lizzie realized that the scenery beyond him was blurred. Risking a glance around, she couldn't even make out sky from sea from land. They were moving very, very fast.

She'd no more returned her gaze to Gordo when, with a slight upward heave, the turtle plunged straight down. It had to be water they swam through, but Lizzie felt nothing, saw nothing but streaming cords of bubbles overlaying the whirling blur around them. And she had absolutely no trouble breathing.

For an indeterminable period, this continued. Nothing but silence and bubbles, the turtle and Gordo frozen with her in this timeless, unknown place. Lizzie wondered if maybe it was somehow related to the way the mother of the Sun had transported her to Eliston. It wasn't really similar, but there was something oddly familiar about it.

Before Lizzie could puzzle that out, between one moment and the next, it stopped. Everything stopped.

And when everything started again, Lizzie lay staring up and up into the shadowy arches of a ceiling. Ripples of light washed in watery, bluish bands there, banishing the dimness just long enough for her to make out elaborate carvings and vivid frescoes.

The palace of the Dragon King, I presume.

Carefully, she got to her feet, noting that the floor beneath her rippled smoothly like the inside of an oyster shell. As did the walls, glowing the same pearlescent grey as the floor under ribbons of reflected light. Somewhere, water sloshed and murmured, but although Lizzie was fairly certain its source was in the room, she couldn't see it. Hemming her in on all but one side stood panes of opaque, greenish glass—round, oval, square, triangular, even octagonal, they were all set in ornate gold frames studded with pearls and coral, onyx, malachite, and opal.

The palace of the Dragon King comes equipped with a Fun House, she thought. Wonderful.

And how on earth was she supposed to find Gordo in all this?

Assuming he was still with her.

That thought prompted her to call out. "Gordo?" she yelled, voice echoing. "Gordo, you here?"

From somewhere—not too far, she didn't think—a low groan echoed back. Then, "Lizzie?"

"Gordo!" It was almost a sigh. "Thank goodness you're still here."

Another moan. "Where's here?" he rasped.

"The Dragon King's palace." She tried going up on tiptoe to look over the top of the glass panels, but couldn't see anything but more and more gold, jewel-encrusted frames. "I think, anyway."

"Makes sense." His voice sounded a little louder. Maybe he was standing now? "But where are you?"

The laugh startled her. "I don't know. Where are you?"

"Um...." Scuffling, scritching rolled against the walls. "Wait," he called at last. "Don't move, I think I see you!"

But when Lizzie spun to the only opening in the panels surrounding her, she couldn't see anything but more green glass. "How can you see me when I don't see you?" she asked. Raising her voice, "Gordo, I don't think it's me you see."

"Of course it's you!" he yelled back, but his voice was fading. "I know you when I see you, Lizzie."

"Then how is it you sound farther away? I don't know what you're seeing, but it's definitely not me." A loud splash covered any reply he might have made, and Lizzie watched the blue lights on the walls shatter and flicker. Please don't let that be— "Gordo?" she shouted, the echoes of her voice lapping urgently over themselves until it seemed a hundred Lizzies said his name.

"I'm here, Liz."

Oh, thank you. She sagged with relief. Then, smiling a little, "Where's here, again?"

"I'm by a pool of sorts. As far as I can tell, it's more or less in the center of the room."

Good. "I can find you, then." Winding toward him between glass panels, she said, "Just don't follow any other people you think are me, okay?"

"Promise," came his laughing response. "But I could swear I saw you." And maybe he had. If the turtle who'd brought them here were the Dragon King's daughter. And if that daughter really were Lizzie's double.... She really didn't want to think about that.

Shaking her head, she rounded one last turn into a small clearing. Gordo stood next to an almost perfectly circular pool, light from somewhere inside it rendering the water a glowing, bright blue. "Do you see me now?" she asked, grinning as his gaze jumped to hers.

"Audio and visual seem to be in synch," he grinned back. "So, my guess is that, yes, I do see you now. Just to be sure, though...." He strolled closer and, without warning, reached out and pinched her forearm.

"Yowch!" she yelped, slapping his hand away.

"Yup," he nodded, unrepentant. "It's definitely you this time."

"I'm so glad to hear it. I wasn't sure, you—" And the rest of the sentence, along with both sarcasm and deadly glare, died beneath the sudden burbling churn of water in the pool. Immediately, Lizzie turned to watch as bubbles frothed to the surface of the water, thickening and thickening until it was impossible to see anything but foam. "What—?" she whispered.

A squeeze of Gordo's hand on her arm, no longer even the slightest bit sore, silenced her. "Just watch," he breathed in her ear.

But watching was almost impossible. As the water bubbled and churned, the light below it grew brighter and brighter until Lizzie had to closer her eyes. And then it grew brighter still, until even with her head buried in Gordo's shoulder, it seemed to reach inside her skull.

Just when she thought she couldn't bear any more, the light died, the pool fell silent. Slowly, uncertain, she opened her eyes. Then, finding the room softly lit and quiet as before, she carefully peeled away from Gordo, releasing her fist from his tunic, drawing back inch by inch as he loosened his own fierce grip on her.

"Okay?" he whispered, so close his breath tickled her chin.

She nodded, meeting his eyes—only a glitter amid shadows—before murmuring back, "You?" His own nod skimmed his nose along hers, the cool, intimate contact sparking fluttery weakness into her stomach.

She could kiss him. Now. And he'd know.

"Not yet." The voice stopped her before she even started, and instead of moving closer, she all but jumped away from Gordo. For a moment, she couldn't even figure out where the voice came from, but then she saw the man standing in front of the pool.

A dead ringer for her dad, goofy grin and all.

"Except I've got nicer togs," the man asserted, grinning—goofily—as he fingered the loose tunic and trousers he wore. She couldn't be completely sure in this light, but they looked dark blue.

"See, now you're going to have to talk," said the man—he must be the Dragon King—shaking his head. "For a moment there, you were both thinking the same thing, so it was easy to respond, but now—" he shrugged. "It's not that I can't listen to you both, but I've tried that before, and you people always get really confused. So it's easier if you just say what you want to say and then things are clear." He frowned. "Well, most of the time they are, anyway." A silent moment, then the Dragon King waved a hand, as though shooing the thought away. "But I'm being very rude, am I not? I'm the Dragon King, god of the nine seas, and you've been looking for me for a very long time, I believe."

Lizzie didn't even know what to say. Fortunately, Gordo stepped in with a simple affirmative.

"Yes," the god continued. "Of course you have. You've come to find your way home. Which is kind of absurd, really, since you've already found your way home. You just don't know it yet. I mean, you can't leave without the keys to the door, and it's finding those that's the hardest part. And you've already done that. I just show you the door. Simple, really. Not much work for me at all, which is fortunate since I'm busy enough as it is. But, anyway, you have your keys, I have your door—I have lots of doors, truth be known—" he gestured significantly at all the glass panels around them, "and the Doorkeeper is the one who does all the real work. But don't worry about that. He never fails. It's the people who fail, sometimes. But, no, didn't mean to scare you. You won't fail. You just have to find the right door. Simplest thing in the world."

Simple or not, Lizzie was having a bit of a hard time following him. He was like...well, like water, the words constantly running, ideas and thoughts eddying beneath one another, pushing to the surface then dipping back down again. And yet, for all that, he was kind of restful. Not clear, not understandable, but restful.

"But first," he was saying, "I have to open the windows." Windows? Lizzie glanced around the cavernous room; there wasn't one window to be found. Funny, though, somehow the light was changing, glowing greener, then gold, until it was almost like being outside again.

"Lizzie," Gordo's soft voice, still not far from her ear, drew her back, and she unsuccessfully tried to stifle a gasp. Everywhere around them, the panels were changing, the cloudy green glass clearing and brightening to silver until each one was a mirror, reflecting slivers and shards of her and Gordo.

Only, they weren't the fairy tale Lizzie and Gordo in the mirrors. Sometimes, they weren't even recognizable as their own reality's Lizzie and Gordo.

"Choose." The Dragon King's voice was deep and solemn, but Lizzie barely heard it. Who were these people?

Turning to the mirror behind her, she found a Lizzie wearing a spiked collar glaring at a suited Gordo, who glared right back. And in the mirror beside that one, the spiked-Lizzie stood alone. And in the mirror beside that one, Gordo wore spikes too. And beyond that one...was her hair purple?

She looked away to find Gordo examining the mirrors just as intently. "There must be hundreds of possibilities," she said.

He tore his eyes away from a mirror filled with a blond-haired, brown-eyed man and a black-haired, blue-eyed woman, and nodded. "But I think there may be a kind of pattern. So we shouldn't have to search them all to find the one that's ours." He pointed to the spike and suit series she'd noticed. "See? They're kind of a variation on a theme. So if we find our theme, we should be able to find our reality."

That made sense. "Do you want to take one side and I'll take the other?"

"No!" His eyes widened in alarm. "If we split up, I might never find you again amid all these," he waved his hand, "other yous. It'll take longer, but I think it's better we just stay together."

She nodded. "Sounds fine to me. Which side?"

"My guess?" He pointed away from the mixed-gender Lizzie and Gordo. "That way."

And into the Fun House they went.

It was amazing, remarkable, undeniably weird, and occasionally even horrifying. They saw pregnant Lizzies, Lizzies with brown hair, famous pop-star Lizzies, Lizzies sad, Lizzies who ignored Gordo, Lizzies wearing snow parkas, druggie Lizzies, depressed Lizzies. They saw director Gordos, college student Gordos, Gordos dating Kate, Gordos with straight hair, Gordos alone building model airplanes, drunken Gordos, Gordos wearing glasses, angry Gordos. And the strangeness seemed to go on and on and on.

Then finally they found mirrors that reflected a familiar Lizzie and Gordo. They weren't perfect—hair too long, hair too short, wrong eye color, wrong height—and then, suddenly, they were. Perfect.

"I forgot about that," Lizzie said, looking at the just-right Lizzie in a hexagonal mirror, bruise darkening along her left cheekbone.

"I didn't," Gordo replied, hand rising to cup her jaw, his thumb sweeping the unblemished skin beneath her eye. "But I guess what our fairy tale selves lack in bruises, they make up for in hair." Eyeing the far more manageable head of hair in the mirror, Lizzie could only nod.

"Ah, good," her dad's voice sounded behind them. "You seem to have found your door." When they both turned to face him, the Dragon King raised an eyebrow and asked, "Are you sure this is the door you wish?" Since the mirrors to either side had the bruise in the wrong spot—her nose and then her forehead—Lizzie nodded. "And you have the keys to the door? The truths you were sent to learn?"

That one, she wasn't so sure about. But to Lizzie's surprise, when she turned to Gordo, he was already nodding. Huh. And just last night he'd said he hadn't learned anything. Maybe Judith had said something this morning when Lizzie'd been speaking with Zev? Or maybe he'd realized something during the carpet ride? Not that there would have been much of anything to realize. They'd only spoken about the crane and its—

"Liz?" Gordo's voice brought her eyes to his.

"What?"

"Do you have all your," he smiled a little, "truths?"

Bloody hell. She'd been so wrapped up in thinking about him, she'd forgotten to answer. "Yeah." She nodded. "Yeah, I'm all truthed out." Of course, there was one little thing she had left to do....

"Then," the Dragon King said, "when you are ready, touch the glass to journey home."

There wasn't any rule saying she had to do it, at least not here. She could wait until they got home. That might be okay.

"Lizzie?" Gordo asked, and her eyes again met his—an eager, lucent blue-grey. "You first."

She could wait to tell him. She could. Fingers trembling, she raised her hand to the mirror. No rush, he didn't need to know here. Just because she'd learned here, didn't mean—

"Aw, hell," she winced. Dropping her hand, barely looking up, she muttered through clenched teeth, "I forgot something," and, before Gordo could formulate a reply, launched herself at him.

Incredibly, after all her worrying, after all her fear, in the end, it was almost easy.

Almost, because she couldn't quite forget the fear. Almost, because, after all, she'd never kissed him before. Almost, because her aim needed a little work, and she'd forgotten to unclench her teeth, and saying he was surprised was putting Gordo's reaction a little mildly.

But if it wasn't truly easy, it was definitely, entirely sweet.

He was warm and solid and so familiar. He was comfortable, just the right height to kiss, just the right shape inside her arms. And his mouth, startled and uncertain as her own at first, gained confidence in a moment, corrected her wayward trajectory, and returned her kiss heat for heat, breath for breath, love for—

Jolted by the thought, Lizzie broke away. Did he love her too? Was he in love with her? His eyes, when hers found them, were a dark, clouded blue, dazed with dawning comprehension, but they held no answers. Lifting a hand to her mouth—she could almost still feel his lips, like some new, foreign pressure, like the very first kiss of her life, when her mind couldn't help playing it over and over again—she raised the other hand and pressed it flat to the mirror.

Darkness roared in, consuming her vision, banding, restrictive, around her body, unraveling the breath from her lungs. And then, the blackness contracted, shuddered, and shattered into a million shards of light. Around and around the bright pinpoints danced, like stars swirling in the eternity of a night, and Lizzie flying, still and frozen, between them, faster and faster until the stars streamed like ribbons. Until the ribbons merged. Until light and white filled her eyes. Until nothing.

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end of chapter 21