A/N: Hello!!!! Wow, this was really late, wasn't it? But never fret, I haven't forgotten!!!!

Oh, the Disclaimer: I do not own anything


Chapter Six: Just as Friends

The streets were crowded as usual, with the busy foot traffic and even greater traffic on the streets themselves. But the hostile nature of the chaos that was getting to point B from A thinned to almost nothing once one were to reach the residential areas and the small functioning neighborhoods where small businesses were run. One business, the Beauty Boot between Cresser's Jewels and The Hot Stop, was especially active for the night crowd. Within, women chattered animatedly as they worked on customer's hair, deftly weaving, cutting, dying, and streaking like artists.

"I'm tellin' you, girl," a black girl, Ronda, was saying as she did cornrows; "He's history."

"Oh, he's past history," her friend, Cilia remarked, waving her hand about and nodding.

The girls around her nodded, customers and stylists alike; "I mean, he's fucked in an eighteen foot hole," Ronda continued.

Another stylist, Ann, nodded. The Porte Rican was quiet, before saying; "Hey, did Ghost even come in today? Thought she was supposed ta run chair four..."

"Haven't seen ah'," Ronda said, "I swear, she's just too damn busy for her own good."

"She's gonna run 'erself dead, y'all," Cilia mused as she trimmed her customer's hair; "Didn't she have that job interview?"

"Say wha'?!" Ann exclaimed; "Now that girl's already got three jobs!"

"One at the coffee house," Ronda stated; "Then the one at the book store, then the one here. What she need another job for?"

"Yeah, and Sam's got his clothin' designin' job," Cilia said; "They got money up outta their ears between the two of 'em!"

"She's just tryin' to keep busy..."

All mouths shut and every eye was on the one who had spoken, Cloe. The tawny girl had kept quiet, diligently styling her customer's hair. Now she was still, slowly scanning the shop.

"Well, Clo'," Ronda said, "Spill it, girl."

"Don't hold out on us!" Cilia squealed, eager for gossip.

"Well," Cloe said quietly, looking down at the afro she was trying to tame; "She was tellin' me how she was havin' these weird dreams, ya know, and said that when she kept busy, she didn' have ta think much. An' if she didn' think much, then she didn' have dose dreams..."

"That ain't everythin'!" Ann said.

Cloe sighed; "She used to know dis boy," she said quietly, looking at the floor; "Said he was 'the one', ya know, the guy who would die for ya at the drop of a hat an' love you know mattah what. She even said he lived here, but 'cause of what she'd done in the past, she couldn't go to him..."

"Hey, you think Sam might know somethin'?" Cilia asked excitedly.

"Cilia, this is serious!" Ann snapped, "But maybe Sam might know somethin'?" she added curiously, looking at Ronda.

Ronda nodded. They all knew Sam. He'd come in with Meg whenever it was safe for him to. Being gay and in their neighborhood wasn't the safest thing, but for the sake of friendship he would come by every now and then. Cilia always trimmed his hair and fixed it up, and as of late her "Favorite Client" had yet to drop by in over a month. They were all missing his jokes and tips.

"It's too late to call 'im," Ronda mused, glancing at the clock; "Almost ten," she mused; "Oh well, we kin ask 'im tomorrow or somethin'."

And so, with tension and worry still in the air, life resumed.

Sam cursed under his breath as he hastily ran around the small den, cleaning up the mess of toys the dog had left behind. Said dog was currently asleep on the couch. The small poodle-snousher mutt had taken every toy from the basket and after several hours of throw-about, had crashed in exhaustion. Now, Sam had been left to clean. And he had three designs to finish before tomorrow morning.

Sam sighed after cleaning, and looked at the clock. It was one in the morning. Rolling his eyes, Sam promptly jumped onto the couch, shaking the dog awake and laughing as it growled at him. But the growl faded when Sam stroked her ears.

"Well, Miss Potts," he said as the dog crawled into his lap; "Guess I won't get my work done, huh?"

The dog tilted her head to the side, before licking at Sam's hand. Sam stroked her back, reaching over for the remote and turning on the TV.

"Comedy Central™, no," Sam said as he channel surfed; "TLC™... nah... Discovery™...no... Cartoon Network™," he paused; "This is interesting..."

Anime...

Sam began watching the cartoon, the small child within him squirming with glee. It was some crazy anime show, and all he cared about was the fact that the characters, particularly and solely the males, were gorgeous.

But a soundly knock at the door brought him to his senses; "Who could that be?" he asked to himself, setting the dog down and grabbing a sweater as he passed his room. Putting the sweater on, he then opened the door.

"Samone?" Sam asked, stepping back to let the pregnant woman through and closing the door behind her.

"Is Meg here?" Samone asked nervously, looking around as she set her coat on the bar stool next to the kitchen counter.

"No, she hasn't come home yet," Sam said; "Why? Samone, you have got to calm down! Should you even be out? Whatever, come on, sit down on the couch. Move it, Potts!"

Sam shooed the dog as he led Samone to the sofa, and she sat down with a sigh; "You look like you could use tea," Sam said, watching her worriedly.

Samone nodded, and Sam went off towards the kitchen; "A guy named Ray Crisp came by asking for Meg, Sam," Samone said suddenly.

Crash

Sam had dropped the mug he had been holding; "Come again?" he asked, slowly turning.

Samone turned around and stared at Sam, nodding solemnly; "I... was wondering..."

"If he stopped here?" Sam finished; "Yeah, he did. Wow, I thought he was just some stalker!" he gasped out with a sigh, running his hands through his hair and then adjusting his glasses; "This is insane, you know that, right?"

Samone nodded; "What'll we do, Sam?" she asked worriedly; "Does Meg even know about him being here?"

"Are you kidding me?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised critically; "She's got these old pictures in this old album from when she was a teenager. Hmm... come to think of it, that Ray guy was in a lot of them," he mused, crossing his arms as he inclined his head with thought.

Samone was silent, then she spoke; "Should we tell her?" she asked quietly; "Or do we let it play out on its own?"

Sam shook his head, gnawing on his thumbnail as he often did when worried and or frustrated; "I don't know," he finally said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he moved over to the window; "Wait," he said, turning and looking at Samone; "Does Tyson know you're here?"

Samone nodded; "Yeah," she said; "He's out lookin' for Meg," she added.

Sam nodded, before looking out the window; "This isn't good, So'," he muttered worriedly, shaking his head; "How in the hell could this happen to Meg?" he asked, looking at the woman for acknowledgment; "she's been through so... so much already!"

"I know, Sam," Samone said, rising slowly and groaning at a sudden ache in her back.

"Oh gods, the tea, I completely forgot!" Sam exclaimed; "sit your ass down!" he said, gently pushing Samone back down on the couch before rushing into the kitchen.

Samone silently laughed as she watched Sam bustle around the kitchen. Seeing the young man with that type of lisp cursing was pricelessly amusing.

Samone eventually left after Ty called, saying he'd found Meg and she had been at the bookstore closing up and working over time. Meg was on her way, and Samone went home. Sam sighed, shaking his head before leaning up against the wall wearily. He was tired. Sighing, Sam hauled his body up the stairs, through the studio, and to his room, falling into the warm, down-filled blankets. He wrapped them around himself, heedless of the door opening an hour later for he had been sucked into the realms of slumber.

A thin, lithe figure stood in the kitchen, pulling her snow-blonde hair out of her face as she set her bags and things on the counter. Keys rattled, wakening her pet, and she bent down to pet the dark dog. Her blue, watery eyes were fresh with unshed tears as she gave the dog her patented imitation smile that had fooled so many. Rising, she went up the stairs, and to the other bedroom off the studio. Shedding herself of her baggy jeans, belt, and over shirt, she was left in tank and undergarments, and threw on some sweats. The dog joined her on her dark, purple covered bed, and she turned the lamps out to stare out the window and up at the starry night.

This was Meg.

Meg sighed regretfully, hugging close to her dog Miss Potts. She watched the stars twinkle, watched as the sky began to brighten with the coming rays of dawn, all the while feeling she wasn't the only one watching at that moment. It was times like this when she was thankful that the feeling of not being alone was present. She felt connected, and she knew who it was to. Guilt kept her back, she knew, otherwise, she would be happier.

"I screwed up," she managed, her unused throat adapting to the act of speaking. The dog tilted her head and whined, nuzzling into Meg's chest. Meg sighed again, laying back on all of the pillows. She watched the dawn, another sleepless night passing, and she didn't care. She could live without sleep, it didn't really affect her. Well, it did, but not physically. No one would be able to tell. Meg sighed, having spent four hours of just petting the dog and thinking about nothing, and slowly rose. She showered, and upon stepping out, she could smell oatmeal and coffee.

Meg put on a pair of jeans, a white spaghetti strap shirt, a black one over than, and then her zip-up navy blue hoodie. She left the hood unzipped half-way, and quickly put on her socks and tennis shoes. Miss Potts followed her out, wagging her tail happily. Meg walked down the steps and through the study, smiling as she saw Sam at the stove, frowning as he watched the oatmeal. Why he cooked oatmeal that way, she would never know, but the sight was a pleasant one. Sam looked up, smiling.

"There you are," he said, sounding disappointed; "Next time call before you decide to work extra hours, okay? Gave me a heart attack!" he said dramatically.

Meg smiled; "Sorry," she said as she sat on one of the stools. She looked down, idly picking at a small crack in the counter.

Sam turned with one hand on his hip while the other loosely held a wooden spoon; "What's wrong?" he asked; "Come on, I know that poignant mood you're in like the back of my hand..."

Meg sighed and shrugged; "I just... had an odd night," she said quietly, bending down to pet Miss Potts, the dog she called her "Puppy Prozac".

"Hn," Sam said, rolling his eyes; "Sure, and the queen of Scotts left me her crown. What's the matter, Meg?" he waited, but when he got no reply, continued; "Was it that weird feeling again?"

"Which one?" Meg asked dryly as she stood; "Sorry, Sam," she said almost instantly; "It's that weird one where... I feel like, for a brief moment..."

"You're seeing the same thing someone else is seeing at the exact same time?" Sam finished, eyeing her knowingly.

"Yeah," Meg said, nodding; "How'd you—?"

"Years of taking care of everyone," Sam said; "I feel like some soccer mom, keeping track of all of these emotions!" he said, throwing his hands up dramatically as he turned; "Oh damnit!" he hissed, taking the oatmeal off the stove and setting it to the side. It had started to burn.

Meg smiled; "What's got your thong in a knot?" she asked amusedly.

"My thong in on straight, thank-you," Sam said defensively, holding his chin in the air; "I've just been thinking too, you know. I never got to finish my designs..."

"You've got until three this afternoon and it's only seven in the morning;" Meg said; "Hey, could I just grab some coffee and hit the road? I've got to get to work."

"You're always working," Sam said; "Yes, go on, get!" he said, waving her off.

Meg laughed and picked up her green cammo bag, filling it with everything she'd need for the day. As she left, she heard Sam saying; "The oatmeal's for David, anyway...!"

Meg made her way down the sidewalk, going underground to the subway. Paying the fee and finding the right route, she quickly jumped into a packed car. She held onto the upper rail for support.

The tram took off shortly after, and soon, it was consumed in a tunnel of dark. Meg closed her eyes and sighed, resting her head against her arm for support. She opened her eyes again, slowly, only to see the dark, grimy walls of the tunnel, and the occasional spotlight that lit up exits and small paths for workers. Watery blue eyes stared at the translucent reflection on the glass, meeting that of the other. Ghost stared at ghost, and for a moment, that's all Meg did, study herself. She was by no means vain, but was merely analyzing. She appeared no older than twenty-two, something most women would cherish. But Meg wished she looked her ripe age of twenty-five.

Meg sighed again, watching as the walls gave way to station. This wasn't her stop, so she took to sitting in a seat to avoid being trampled. She watched as people left, nearly all of them. Meg was used to this, she had seen the stares most of the car occupants were giving her and knew she had probably shocked them. She was very pale, and her hair was so pale and blonde that she did look like a ghost, or a haunt. Meg had learned to ignore it though, and took the occurrence as just an ordinary set-back to an ordinary day.

The doors shut. Meg looked over as a young man sat down near the end, dressed in business attire. His shining black briefcase was set at his side as he pulled out a laptop from a bag. Soon, he began tapping against the computer keys, not even giving Meg a second glance.

Meg sighed, and stretched out on the bench she was on. Using her bag as a pillow, she looked at the ceiling, before looking out the window...

You gotta leave me now

You gotta go alone

You gotta chase a dream

One that's all your own

Before it slips away

Meg remembered the subtle lyrics to the song, closing her eyes as she heard the song replaying in her mind...

I keep looking up

Awaiting your return

My greatest fear will be

That you will crash and burn

And I won't feel your fire

Soon, she began humming the song, and then, the words formed and her rustic, smooth voice quietly sang them, yet she was unawares as she was lost in her reveries.

I'll be on the other end

To hear you when you call

Angel you were born to fly

And if you get too high

I'll catch you when you fall

Catch you when you fall

Your memory's the sunshine

Every new day brings

I know the sky is calling

Angel let me help you with your wings

Meg opened her eyes and sat up, wrapping her arms around her legs as she tucked her knees to her chest. She continued to quietly sing, unawares yet again that the rhythmic, speedy tapping of computer keys had stopped.

When you're soaring through the air

I'll be your solid ground

Take every chance you dare

I'll still be there

When you come back down

Meg let the last words hang in the air, sighing sadly as she finished. She turned, her legs falling over the edge of the bench as she sat there, hunched over with her elbows resting on her thighs. She pulled her bag over between her feet, opening it again.

"Your voice was pretty good..."

Meg's head snapped up in surprise, her eyes falling on the young business man. Now, she got a good look at him. Tawny-brown hair, hazel eyes, fine complexion, he was a regular poster child [A/N: it's a term that, down here, means HOTTER 'n Satan's draw's in spandex]. He was smiling slightly, laptop forgotten.

"Thank-you," Meg said uneasily; "I... I didn't know you were here, otherwise... I wouldn't have..."

"It wasn't bad, trust me," the man said, smiling warmly as he got up. Meg straightened up as he sat down beside her, hearing him say; "I'm Nathan."

He held his hand out to her, and Meg shook it quickly; "Meg," she said shortly, turning back to her bag and digging through it for nothing. She felt uneasy around this man, who called himself "Nathan". It wasn't that she was paranoid, but whenever a man had any interest in her, it felt like... cheating... in a way...

"So, Meg," Nathan continued; "You from around here? From New York, I mean."

"Been here since I was about seventeen," Meg replied, pulling out her sketch pad. She idly began flipping through the intricate and elegant drawings, trying her best not to meet those warm brown eyes.

"Well, I was just wondering;" he said nonchalantly; "You sound like you're from the South."

Meg froze, and looked at him with a sideways glance; "Yeah," she said slowly; "I am."

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm making you uneasy!" Nathan said immediately, getting up; "I only wanted to get your name... and possibly your number," he added, blushing slightly.

"Which number?" Meg asked; "Because I've got a lot of 'em."

"Um," Nathan said, "You have more than just one...?"

Meg sighed, "Twenty-five is my age," she began; "Ten is how many years since I ran away from home. Eight is how many years I've been here, and ten is also the number since I gave a guy a chance. Five is the number of years since I've been to church, and three is the number of jobs I have," she paused; "My phone number is 555-6782, but after hearing all the others, I'd be really surprised if you still wanted it."

Nathan stood there, now a little uneasy himself. He looked at Meg, and Meg packed her things up as the tram was slowly; "In short," Meg said, standing in front of him, even though she was not exactly eye-to-eye with him; "I'm..."

"Let me take you to lunch then," Nathan said quickly, smiling; "You think all of that would deter me? Please...?" he said again, taking her hand in both of his; "I know this great Italian place. Where is your next job? I could pick you up there..."

"Listen, I wouldn't consider it a date," Meg said, taking her hand back.

"We could just go as friends," Nathan said; "Please, I'd like to get to know you. You seem like an awesome person."

Hear that before, Meg thought as she looked away, glancing then at the doors as they opened, to reveal the platform; "Sure," she said, looking back at Nathan; "I'm actually heading to work now."

"Oh gosh, work!" Nathan exclaimed, running back over to get his things. Slamming the laptop shut, he then put it away and got his bag. Meg watched him with piqued curiosity, his mannerisms bringing back recollections of a certain boy who was now a young man. She rubbed her eyes at this, pressing the thoughts back into her mind.

"Sorry, I might have forgot all of this stuff," Nathan said as they walked out of the car; "So, where do you work, again?" he shouted over the din.

"Anne's Coffee on Chester and Madison!" Meg replied just as loudly, smiling at him.

Nathan smiled, but was shoved to the side by someone; "Nathan!" Meg shouted worriedly, looking around. The tall, tawny haired man was no where.

"I'm fine!" Nathan called, and Meg looked to see him heading for the stairs. Meg crossed the crowd and got there, glaring at the moving mass.

"This is crazy!" Meg said exasperatedly as she and Nathan reached the world of New York City above.

"Never gets old, though," Nathan said; "So, I'll see you at eleven?"

"Sure," Meg said, smiling, "Eleven."

Nathan smiled, gave her a quick goodbye, and walked to the right, towards Time Square. Meg watched him go, and then took to the left, towards the coffee house.

As she went, Meg's phone rang. Rolling her eyes, she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Meg? This is Ty--!"

"Hey, Ty. What's up?"

"Listen, could you do me a HUGE favor?"

Meg smirked; "Need my to pick up Jason?" she asked.

"Please? Samone's appointment got pushed up to three-thirty this afternoon and I have to be there with her. And I can't get a hold of any of the other girls so—"

"Ty, it's okay, I'll pick Jason up for ya."

"Sure it's alright?"

"Yeah, of course I'm sure! He's awesome, I won't mind at all."

"Ah, thank-you so much, Meg."

"No problem, Ty."

"Alright. Well, I have ta go."

"Bye."

"Bye, and thanks again."

Click

...Click

"I don't care if he's not in the mood! Tell him to get his ass out here!"

"Mistuh Crisp has requested dat nobody bothuh 'im!"

Ray groaned as he heard the loud voice from outside his apartment. He had spent yesterday at his home, working from his computer. He had ordered food out, and hadn't felt like going out for Monday. But now, someone had hunted him down. It had to be Joey, no one could yell as loud as he could. And Max was trying his best to keep Joey at bay. Sighing, Ray tied the strings to his sweats tighter so they wouldn't fall off, put on the nearest shirt, a white muscle tank, and then headed from his bedroom to the door.

Ray opened the door, and saw Joey standing there, fighting verbally with Max. The bellman was undaunted with the loud Italian, choosing the better route and keeping his voice down.

"Joey, quit yelling at Max!" Ray shouted angrily, causing Joey to shut up and look at him; "Thanks, Max," Ray said calmly to the man. Max nodded, walking down the hall and back to the elevator.

Ray then dragged Joey into the apartment, and shut the door; "What the hell got into you?" Ray asked him.

"You haven't bin seen in almost three days!" Joey said; "Roberto told me to check on you!"

"And where's Roberto?" Ray asked.

"Gettin' his girl at the airport," Joey replied; "Man, you look like shit. What's been happenin'?" he looked over at the kitchen; "damn, you need a maid," Joey remarked.

"She comes tomorrow and I've been busy, okay?" Ray said, walking back into the study. Joey followed him, looking around the cluttered room.

There were papers, files, scans, photos, all of the paraphernalia towards that, everywhere. The office was cluttered with work, but Joey's eyes landed on a shoebox full of letters. Ray sat down at the computer and sighed, and Joey took a letter.

"'Dear Ray'," he mumbled as he read; "'I'm sorry I haven't been able to write... it's been at least three months... things are okay, I wish I could see you and the gang... I'm sorry I had to run off like I did... I know I messed up... hope you can find it in your heart to forgive and forget... Love, Meg'," Joey was silent at that.

Ray watched his friend, before sighing and rubbing his eyes; "What's this about?" Joey asked, holding the letter up.

"It's a long story, Joey," Ray said simply, turning and looking at the computer.

"Well, make a short version of it all and tell me."

"Met a girl, we fell in love, shit happened and she had to leave," Ray said; "I can't let go..."

"So find her, man," Joey said.

"After ten years?" Ray asked, "Yeah, I have her address, and I met two people who know her, sorta. But each time I tried, she hasn't been around. What's the point? It's obvious I won't get any closer..."

Joey looked at Ray critically; "Alright man, listen to me while I'm sober, okay?" Ray looked at him; "Just cuz Fate's a bitch don't mean you gotta give in to it, okay? And damnit, if you give up on something, then what's that say for me, huh?"

"What?" Ray asked, looking at Joey quizzically.

"You heard me," Joey said; "I haven't seen you give up on anything yet. I don't know the details, but it seems like you really were determined 'til somethin' kicked ya in the ass and you fell in the mud. Get up."

Ray shook his head and smiled half-heartedly, "What?!" Joey asked accusingly.

"First bit o' sense I heard outta you in a long time," Ray said, looking at him again; "Thanks, man."

"Hey, when you find this chick I wanna meet her." Joey said; "I'm goin' now. Give Roberto a call and tell 'em you're alive before he sends the cops on ya."

Ray laughed; "Whatever, Joey," he said.

TBC

And remember, be sure to review. Cuz, now that I look at it, reviews are sort of like payment. The whole "you scratch my back, I'll scratch your back" saying comes to mind.

note: indevidual italics lyrics to Nicklecreek's song "When You Come Back Down".

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