A/N: Just to let you know-it only going to get worse before it gets better. Because it's an alternative to both Starting Over and We've Only Just Begun, it will encompass approximately the same time span. This story will probably be at least 30 chapters, I think. I have to finish the outline. In the meantime, you'll just have to trust me. I haven't let you down so far, have I? Alexandri.

"What are we doing here?" Grace asked as Ben pushed open the front door of Beta Beta Beta or whatever frat it was that Eric belonged to.

Ben shrugged. "Thought we could do something different tonight."

Grace looked around, taking in the plastic sorority girls clutching their plastic red cups and the drunken fraternity boys crowding around the keg. "Different," she grumbled. "Not exactly the word I would use."

"You want something to drink?" Ben shouted above the sound of the band tuning up. She merely nodded. "Coke okay?" Another nod by her and he disappeared into the crowd of backwards-baseball-cap-wearing guys and tight, midriff-revealing-shirt-wearing girls. He'd learned the hard way about her mom over the summer when he'd come to Arcadia. "Here you go," he said, handing her a red plastic cup when he returned several minutes later. His eyes darted around the room as if he were looking for someone. "Hey, look, there's Joan," he said, waving wildly. Joan smiled and raised her hand, returning the wave.

Reluctantly, Grace followed Ben. Ever since they'd returned for the fall semester a month ago, she hadn't had more than five minutes alone with him. When Jimmy wasn't barging into Ben's dorm room at the most inappropriate times, Ben himself was inviting Joan on their dates. If Grace were paranoid, she might think that Ben was more interested in Joan than her.

"Hey guys," Joan shouted. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought we'd check out the band," Ben answered. Grace just grunted in response.

Another person sidled up to their little group. "I hope Miller Lite's okay," Eric said, handing her a cup.

"Yeah, it's fine," Joan replied, taking the proffered red plastic cup. "You remember Grace and Ben?"

Ben stuck out his hand. "Nice to see you again, Eric." Grace knew him well enough to know that this was Ben's fake nice voice.

"You, too," Eric said, shaking hands with Ben. Grace rolled her eyes at their obvious display of alpha male-ness. "I'm kind of surprised to see you here."

"Joan said you guys were having a live band," Ben said loudly.

"Yeah, they're friends of mine."

The conversation petered out as the president of the fraternity stepped to the microphone to introduce the band. All the drunk people cheered loudly and the band began to play. Grace had to admit that they sounded pretty good even if they were playing some top 40 crap. However, the minute the lead singer opened his mouth, she changed her mind.

"He's awful," she leaned over and whispered in Ben's ear. "Let's get out of here."

Ben's eyes flitted over to where Joan leaned against the wall, touching shoulders with Eric. "Um, maybe they'll get better?" he whispered back. Trying to ignore the shivers that shot down her spine at the feeling of his breath on her ear, Grace sighed and nodded.

The next five songs did nothing to improve the lead singer's voice or Grace's mood. Mercifully, the band announced they were going to take a short break. As they left the stage, the beer-swilling Neanderthals gave the band high fives.

"That was…interesting," Joan finally said.

"This is their first gig," Eric explained with a shrug, bumping his shoulder against Joan's.

"And their last hopefully," Ben muttered. Grace began to think there was hope for him after all.

Eric pushed himself off the wall and leaned into Ben's personal space. "And I suppose you could do better."

"Well, I don't…know…about that," Ben stammered out.

"I bet you can't," Eric challenged.

Ben's eyes swung from Eric to Joan and back again. Just as Grace thought he'd back down, he surprised her by saying, "How much?"

"Fifty bucks." Eric pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and, opening it, took out a fifty-dollar bill.

"Are you crazy?" Grace said fiercely. When he didn't answer, she prompted, "Ben? You're not seriously considering this."

"Maybe you should listen to your girlfriend, Cohen," Eric said with a smirk.

"Guys, this is insane," Joan chimed in.

"I just have to go up there and sing?" Ben clarified.

"And get applause." Eric's smirk widened. "And I get to pick the song."

"What if I don't know it?" Ben was now leaning into Eric's personal space.

"Fine, we'll agree on one you know," Eric retorted. "The new U2?" Ben shook his head. "Three Doors Down?" Another shake. Grace thought she was going to puke; could Eric have any more pedestrian tastes in music? "Maroon 5?"

"Depends on the song."

"The new one."

Ben shook his head. "Don't know it."

"Do you know any music?"

"Elvis Costello, Clash, Talking Heads," Ben replied with a shrug.

"They…" Eric pointed. "…don't know any of that."

"Um, I know this one song by Hooba something, I think." Grace nearly fell over; Ben did not just admit to knowing a Hoobastank song, did he?

"Hoobastank?" Eric asked eagerly.

Ben snapped his fingers. "Yeah, Hoobastank. It was all over the radio a couple of years ago." He hummed the first few notes.

"The Reason?" Eric said with a grin. "You know the words to that song?"

Nodding, Ben said, "Yeah, is that a problem?"

Eric smothered a laugh. "Not at all. I'll go tell them."

Ben turned to find both Grace and Joan gaping at him. "What?" he asked innocently.

"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Grace demanded angrily. "Can you even sing?"

Ben shrugged. "We'll find out, won't we?" Five minutes later, the band came back out and the lead singer made an announcement that they were going to have a special guest singer. Eric, who'd returned a moment before, nodded and motioned for Ben to take the stage. Ben nodded back and climbed onto the stage. The keyboard player plunked out the opening notes and the drummer joined in.

"The lead singer of Hoobastank couldn't even hit these notes live," Joan said to Eric.

"Hey, he suggested it," Eric defended himself.

The guitarist played a few notes and Ben, closing his eyes, started to sing. "I'm not a perfect person. There's many things I wish I didn't do. But I continue learning. I never meant to do those things to you. And so I have to say before I go." His eyes popped open. "That I just want you to know." As he belted out the chorus, the entire room went crazy. The backwards-baseball-cap-wearing boys had their hands waving in the air as the midriff-bearing girls swayed back and forth. For the second verse, Ben got cocky and, plucking the microphone from its stand, walked back and forth across the small stage, occasionally taking a high five from a frat boy.

Grace glanced at Eric who was staring in open-mouthed shock and she would have laughed if she weren't so angry. What was Ben doing, taking Eric up on his dare? It almost seemed as if he were jealous of the older guy, jealous of his friendship with Joan. Ben is mine, she thought bitterly. He was the one guy who didn't fall all over himself around Joan. Or at least he was last semester and this past summer.

The song ended and Ben jumped down from the stage, accepting more high fives from the guys and a few hugs from the girls. Grinning triumphantly, he made his way to Joan, Eric, and Grace. Eric scowled before shoving the fifty-dollar bill at Ben and leaving.

"Ben, that was amazing," Joan said, throwing her arms around him.

He shrugged. "I wasn't Woodlawn High School Warrior Idol two years running for nothing."

"You played him?" It was the first thing Grace had said since he returned.

Another shrug. "You guys up for some coffee and pie?" He waved the fifty. "It's on me."

"I'm going back to the apartment. You two have fun," Grace said bitterly, striding away. While she was angry, she was also strangely proud of Ben. Who else, besides herself, could have masterminded that trap that Eric had walked into? Halfway back to bus stop, Ben caught up with her.

"Grace!" he shouted, sprinting toward her. As he tried to catch his breath, he asked her why she'd left.

"Didn't feel like being the third wheel," she said, not bothering to wait for him.

"Third wheel?" he said, moving in front of her to prevent her from moving.

"Yeah, you and Girardi make a cute couple. I hope you're happy together," she said, trying to step around him. He moved too.

"Me and Joan?" he asked, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"It's obvious that you like her," she said angrily. "And now that she's single you've got a chance."

"Oh, Grace," he said quietly. "You've got it completely wrong. I don't like Joan…not like that."

"Then why is it that everything we do includes her now?" she cried out, hating the shaky tone of her voice.

Ben looked away and he blushed slightly, mumbling something. She asked him to repeat it. "I…can't…really tell…you," he repeated, slightly louder, still not looking at her.

"Fine. Don't tell me!" She managed to move around him and walked quickly toward the bus stop.

"Goddamnit, Grace!" Ben shouted. "Don't walk away from me!"

She rounded on him. "And what gives you the right to make demands on me?"

"Because I'm in love with you!" he blurted out furiously. Grace's eyes widened and he shook his head. "That's not how I wanted to tell you," he mumbled. Grace quickly closed the distance between them.

"What?" she asked in a low tone.

He closed his eyes briefly before opening them. Green eyes locked on blue. "I'm in love with you. I love you, Grace."

"But... Girardi?" she sputtered out.

Ben sighed. "You have to promise not to tell her," he finally said. Grace nodded mutely. "I promised Adam that I'd look after Joan."

"But they're…broken up."

"I know. But I don't trust Donnelly. And I don't want to see Joan get hurt." He paused before smiling shyly at her. "I'm sorry that I've been inviting her along all the time. I never meant for you to think that I was interested in her." The shy smile was replaced by a grin. "I never pegged you for the jealous type, Polk."

Grace's mouth opened in astonishment. "I'm not jealous. I just thought that…" Her voice trailed off as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, hand lingering on her cheek. He pulled her gently toward him and kissed her.

"I love you, Grace," he said softly when they broke apart.

"I…I love you, too."

Ben's face broke into a wide smile. "That's good to hear. 'Cause I have a very important question to ask you."

"And what's that?" she managed between lingering kisses.

"What did you think of my singing?"

"I thought you weren't bad," she replied with a laugh.

"Not bad?" he repeated, wounded note in his voice. He stepped away from her. "Didn't you hear that room go crazy?"

"They were drunk," she said dryly.

"They…drunk…you…" He couldn't even string together a coherent sentence. Grace laughed again before wrapping her arms around him and pressing her mouth to his. Her tongue parted the seam of his mouth before plunging in. They kissed for several moments before he tore his mouth away. "You can't kiss me and make me forget," he said stoically as her tongue traced the shell of his ear before poking in very slowly and deliberately. Ben groaned and Grace couldn't help smiling.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked, surprised at the huskiness of her voice.

"I…may…be…able…to…be…convinced," he panted out.

"How's that?" Her lips moved from his ear to his jaw.

"Use your imagination." He turned his head and captured her mouth. Tables turned, Grace found herself unable to think as she clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer.

"What about Girardi?" she asked.

"Joan's a big girl." He paused. "And besides, if she's here, she's not at your apartment."

"Good point," Grace conceded as she dragged him toward the bus stop.

Eric spotted Joan standing by herself on the other side of the room. He was a little uncertain about what to do next. While he was glad to see that Cohen and Polk were gone, he hated the unhappy look on Joan's face. Nothing he'd done in the past month had gotten rid of it. Her lingering sadness over breaking up with Adam enveloped her persistently. Caught between wanting to comfort her and wanting to woo her, he'd been walking on eggshells since term started. Pushing the grimace off his own face, he worked his way to her.

"Where's…Ben and Grace?" he asked, trying to sound pleasant.

"Either Grace has killed him or they're..." Her voice trailed off. "Actually, I'd prefer not to speculate on what they're doing."

Eric laughed. "Fair enough." Grace was attractive enough with the blonde hair and blue eyes and dimple in her chin, but her attitude did nothing for Eric. He preferred a more personable kind of girl. A girl with a bright, ready smile and an infectious laugh and warm, welcoming eyes. Like Joan. Feeling slightly guilty, he pushed that thought out of his mind. "Wanna get some coffee?"

"That'd be nice." They left the fraternity house and went to their favorite coffee shop on campus. With two mochachinos in front of them, they settled in at the corner table. "So, how's life as a grad student?"

Eric shrugged. "Same as an undergrad mostly." For some reason, he felt unusually shy around Joan lately. Ever since the moment he'd first seen her on the library steps his junior year, he'd wanted her. He'd gone out of his way to find out what he could about her. He'd joined, and stayed in, badminton club to get close to her despite his personal distaste for the "sport." He'd talked up his major in hopes of encouraging her to take classes in the discipline.

Even after he'd found out about her boyfriend, he'd quietly pursued her. After all, her boyfriend was in New York and he was here was her. Eric knew from personal experience that long-distance relationships were extremely fragile. As optimistic as Joan tried to be about the situation, he'd known it was only a matter of time before the relationship crumbled. However, after her breakup with Adam, Eric began to feel guilty. As if it were his fault. And the change in Joan's personality worried him. "How are you, Joan?"

"Me?" Joan asked, startled by the sudden break of silence. "I'm fine. Never been better." At his arched eyebrow, she continued, "What?"

"It's just that you seem…" He paused searching for the right word. Unable to find it, he lapsed into silence.

"Ben kinda scammed you tonight," Joan said quietly. When he looked up, she was smirking at him.

"Yeah, he did," Eric admitted. He'd made quite a fool of himself tonight. He wanted to be angry. He knew that Cohen neither liked nor trusted him, especially where Joan was concerned. It had been for that very reason that Eric had challenged him in the first place: payback for intruding on his alone time with Joan. But Eric had a hard time maintaining his anger and dislike for Cohen when he knew the guy was just looking out for Joan. Right now, her well-being was the important thing, not his ego. At least, that's what he told himself after ten minutes of fuming. "I gotta hand it to him. I walked right into it."

"Actually, I think you ran toward it," Joan said, smirk turning into a grin.

He had no choice but to grin back. "I did, didn't I?" She burst into laugher and he joined her. For a moment, things felt like they had last year, like the old Joan was back. "I hope Polk was duly impressed."

"You don't like Grace that much, do you?" Joan asked, turning serious.

Shrugging, he replied, "She's okay, I guess. Little intense for me."

"Grace is…my friend. She's been there for me…during some tough times," Joan said sadly.

Knowing she was talking about her breakup with Adam, Eric said softly, "I'm your friend, too. You can talk to me."

"Eric, it's different." She took a sip of her coffee before continuing. "We don't have that kind of friendship."

"We can."

Sadly, she shook her head. "No, we can't."

"Why not?" He knew exactly why not. Because of his attraction to her. And because, he suspected and shamefully hoped, of her attraction to him. Every other day, he doubted his own motives toward Joan. Was he really trying to help her feel better or was he simply trying to worm his way into her heart when she was most vulnerable? If her feelings for him were anywhere near as confused, he could only imagine she did the same.

"Just can't," she replied simply, taking another sip.

"I'm worried about you."

"I told you, I'm fine," she said with an edge to her voice.

"Joan, I know your grades have slipped. I see you space out. In class, at badminton practice, during dinner." She shook her head, but he needed to point these things out to her, and she needed to hear them. "Have you…have you thought about…talking to someone?" He held up a hand. "Not me. Not Grace. Someone…professional."

"You want me to see a shrink!" The vehemence in her voice surprised him frankly.

"Maybe just a peer counselor or something," he replied slowly, thinking there was more going on here than his suggestion.

"I'm fine." She drained her cup and, standing suddenly, she left.

Joan opened the door to the apartment quietly. She wasn't even sure if Grace and Ben were here. The stereo in the living room was playing something that sounded familiar to her. That answered her question about whether someone was home.

"Grace?" she said cautiously. She peered down the short hallway to Grace's room. The door was open. Thinking that was odd, she made her way to the living room and realized that her Sarah McLachlan Live CD was playing. That was even odder. Glancing into the kitchen, Joan came to a halt. Grace was standing at the stove, poking a spatula in a frying pan. She was wearing a button down shirt that looked suspiciously like the shirt Ben had been wearing earlier. The refrigerator door was open. It closed, revealing Ben. Joan watched as Ben came up behind Grace and wrapped his arms around her waist. He whispered something in her ear and, to Joan's immense surprise, Grace Polk giggled and blushed. Ben reached out; taking the spatula out of her hand, he deftly flipped a pancake into the air. Grace turned in his arms and planted a kiss on Ben's mouth. Joan turned away, feeling like she was intruding on something very intimate and private.

"Girardi!" Grace yelped, looking over. Ben stepped in front of Grace protectively and Joan fought the urge to laugh. While she'd seen Grace in less, she'd never seen a bare-chested Ben before.

Ben must have realized that he was standing there in only his jeans because he blushed and stammered something about getting his T-shirt. Slipping past Joan, he disappeared in the direction of Grace's room.

"Well, that was chivalrous," she commented, arching an eyebrow at Grace, who tried to scowl. "I take it you two had a nice time." Grace shrugged. "C'mon, Grace. You're listening to Sarah McLachlan. Ben must have done something to convince you to agree to that."

Grace was saved from answering by Ben returning to the kitchen, wearing his T-shirt. He handed Grace her pajama pants. "Thought you might want these," he said quietly. When she pulled them on, he turned away slightly. Joan thought the two of them were entirely too adorable for words. "Hey, Joan, you want some pancakes?" he asked.

"Sure."

A few minutes later, the three of them sat around the living room, balancing plates on their laps. There was no talking, only the sound of forks scraping against plates.

"Those were delicious," Joan said, setting her plate on the coffee table and sitting back in the armchair.

"Thanks," Ben said. Grace smacked him on the arm. "Well, Grace made them." The two of them were sitting together on the couch. Grace stood and, collecting the plates, took them into the kitchen.

Joan watched, amused, as Ben's eyes followed her. She cleared her throat and his head snapped back toward her. "Joan, I…uh…hope it's not weird…me being here…and all," he stammered.

Joan gave him a look. "If I thought it would be weird with you here, I never would have urged Grace to talk to you last year."

Ben flushed slightly. "Yeah, about that. I don't think I ever said thanks."

"Thanks for what?" Grace asked, walking back into the living room and settling down next to Ben again.

"For convincing you to give us a chance," Ben said. Joan was not expecting him to be quite so honest. He motioned with his head toward Joan.

"What?" Grace said. "You want me to thank her, too? Do you know how insufferable she'll be if she thinks this is all because of her?"

"Well, it is, isn't it?" Joan piped up.

"Please, Girardi."

As the three of them bickered good naturedly about who was exactly responsible for what exactly, Ben's arm snaked around Grace's shoulders. Her hand rested lightly on his leg. Joan blinked back unexpected tears as an image of her and Adam sitting like that countless times came to mind.

"Um, maybe I should go?" Ben said hesitantly.

Joan looked up to find both of them staring at her. She waved her hand, saying, "I'm fine, really."

Ben stood. "No, it's okay. I should head back to my dorm."

Joan stood up, too. "You should stay. I'm just…I'm just tired." She faked a yawn. "I should get to bed." She bid them both good night and, right before she left the room, she said, "And if you're not here in the morning, Cohen, I'm going to be angry, okay?"

"Okay," Ben agreed.

The minute Joan closed her bedroom door behind her, the tears ran freely down her face. She and Adam had broken up months ago. She should be okay with it. She should be over it. In fact, she should've been over it after it happened. It was her idea after all. Sniffling, she wondered if maybe Eric was right.

A full moon lit the October night sky. The wind ruffled Adam's hair as he sat beneath a tree in the garden behind his dormitory. A stack of unopened letters lay waiting in his lap. He didn't want to read them. They reminded him of what waited for him back in the States. At least, they would once he read them. The summer had been hell for him. No matter what he did, he hadn't been able to get Joan or his night of drunken debauchery out of his mind. It had been too fresh, too close. Italy, however, was a place apart from the chaos of his real life. Though thoughts of his last few weeks at school still plagued him, he was able to go for long stretches of time without dwelling on the farce his life had become.

Knowing it couldn't be put it off forever, Adam opened the first letter. It was from his father and, by far, the easiest one to read. Carl was doing well; his back still wasn't bothering him. Adam smiled at this. His father often teased him for worrying about his health, especially his back pains. Carl was, however, worried about Adam. He'd picked up a distinct vibe of unhappiness in Adam's letters and hoped he wasn't too homesick. Other than that, everything was fine and he couldn't wait to see Adam at Christmas.

Still smiling, Adam set his father's letter aside and picked up Caitlin's. After the last of their spring finals, she'd given him her address in Florida and demanded that he write her. He'd done as requested partly because Caitlin was pretty formidable and partly because he suspected she'd be a much better friend to him than he'd had since coming to New York.

Since the debacle at Corey's friend's party, Adam had repeatedly analyzed every memory of what and who he'd been in New York. Looking back, he could admit that Joan had been right when she'd said he was a different person around Joe, Tyler, and Ashley. He'd been different around most of his art school acquaintances. So much of his artistic life had been solitary before going to NYU. He hadn't known what to expect of the other students; in fact, he hadn't really thought about it before arriving.

In all fairness, he'd met several art school students who weren't pretentious, most of them in the more practical disciplines such as jewelry making and printmaking. But the same had been true of him and his trio. Somewhere along the way, they'd gotten caught up in the hype of teachers like Mark and forgotten to be themselves. At least, Adam had. Talking to Caitlin helped him regained the person he'd once been.

"Adam, hey," her letter began, "I know you couldn't possibly care about what's going on here in New York (can you believe it's fifty degrees? Fifty! Freakish weather.) when you're lounging about in sultry Italy, but I thought I'd tell you anyway. You don't want to be completely out of the loop when you get back, do you? Stocks are up, gas is down, there have been few good sales, and school sucks without someone to harass. So when do you get back? Just kidding. Really, there's nothing going on here. And I'm BORED. That was one good thing about role-playing. The players may have been kind of freaky, but they knew how to party.

"Let's see. What else? I've decided on a major, finally. My parents are proud to see I've actually made up my mind about something. When you get back, you'll be looking at a proud, new public relations major. Unless I come to find the idea of being a PR person distasteful by the time you get here, which is starting to sound like a real possibility. Maybe I haven't thought this all the way through.

"On a more serious note, I saw Ashley the other day. We didn't talk long (I think she was embarrassed since I know about what happened and all) but I think she's doing okay. I thought you'd want to know. I hope you're finding what you need in Florence. You were pretty bad here and worse at summer camp. Your last letter actually made me smile instead of hold back tears of sadness. My fifteen-year-old cousin says that's because I'm a Pisces and, therefore, unduly sensitive to everyone else's problems. Maybe that's true, but I can hardly wait for you to get back here so I can see for myself if you're really better. Write me, okay? A good, long letter with no sugarcoating. Be better.

"Caitlin."

Slowly refolding her letter, Adam marveled at how quickly he and Caitlin had become friends and how grateful he was to her. While he hadn't really severed his ties with Ashley, Joe and Tyler, his behavior after the breakup and the incident with Ashley had put a serious strain on their relationship. Adam honestly didn't know if he wanted to fix it. On the one hand, they were his friends and had been for two years. On the other hand, being around them brought out the worst in him while burying the best. He didn't want to be the kind of person he'd been when Joan had visited over break and he didn't want to be the kind of person who didn't notice the good person Caitlin was. Even if he did want to be cool with them again, he wasn't sure it was possible.

Shoving his thoughts aside, he opened his last letter and began to read.

"This is the last letter I'm sending you, Rove. My mother keeps insisting I send you care packages like you're a refugee in Uganda or something and it's getting too expensive. Do you know how much international postage rates are? It's an example of the blatant, capitalistic government scams America has perpetrated on its citizens throughout history. It can't reasonably cost almost twenty dollars to send a small box of random stuff. Get an email address, dude, or you won't hear from me again until you get back.

"How are you doing? I know you probably don't want to talk about it. I don't blame you. I really don't know what to say myself. It's hard when your two best friends are hurting. It's even harder when they're hurting for the same reason. I don't know what to say to you or Girardi without twisting the knife. On top of it all, I'm beginning to feel like Ben and I should downplay our relationship.If it's any consolation, I know Girardi really misses you.

"If you need anything, tell me. Anything at all. Well, no hugs or crying over the phone or handholding or anything like that. You know what I mean. Enjoy Italy. Who knows when you'll be able to go again? Remember if you ever need to talk, I'm here.

"Grace

"P.S.

"Ben said to tell you that he's still keeping his promise. I know what he's talking about, by the way, and I never thought you'd be involved in such a sexist, demeaning scheme. You never were entirely rational where Girardi was concerned. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think it's a good thing that you and Ben have this arrangement because I'm worried about her. But I don't want you to. We'll take care of her. What have you people done to me?

"G"

The moon hung low by the time Adam finished reading; so low it seemed to Adam that he could touch it if he stretched far enough. He wanted to laugh, or at least smile, at the whimsical thought but he couldn't. He was all out of smiles. Laughter felt like a distant memory. He hated the thought of Joan hurting. He'd told her he couldn't promise not to hate her, but he didn't. He didn't hate her at all; he just missed her so much that he didn't know how to fix the hole she'd left in his life.

Shivering in the warm night breeze, Adam stared up at the moon, tears streaming down his cheeks, and tried to will Joan's face out of his mind. His brain, long numbed to the near-debilitating pain of his heart, tormented him with a thousand mental snapshots of her beloved face. That morning it had been the image of her awaking up in his arms Christmas before last — content and trusting. That afternoon during workshop he'd sculpted her pleased expression when he'd given her the cheerleader sculpture. But now all he could see were the tears clinging to her eyelashes as she'd stared up at him at Penn Station, forcing him to promise to make their break-up "worth it." He felt her last kiss on his lips, trembling and salty with their tears. He heard again the slight hitch in her voice as she said goodbye and ran to the train.

For the thousandth time, he wondered how he was supposed to make their break-up "worth it." Since she'd gotten on the train, he'd been trying to bury the pain. He didn't want feel it or unleash it. In truth, he was afraid of it. There was nothing worthwhile about the pain cutting him up inside. There was nothing redeeming about the endless sense of loss and devastation he felt. He was drowning in a cold, blinding darkness, so lost in his despair, he couldn't figure out how to break the surface and save himself. He was numb, oblivious to everything around him. The only way he'd gotten through the last six months was by functioning on autopilot. He'd gone through this once and, though he had yet to admit it, he was terrified of what was happening to him now.