A/N- Yay, chapter 4 is up! This is what I'm doing way after midnight on Friday the 13th… well technically it's already Saturday the 14th... instead of finishing up a paper for my Victorian Novel course! Inspiration just strikes me whenever it feels like it, I guess.

Couldn't locate Anthony Rapp by the way :(

As always, I'm waiting impatiently for your feedback! Enjoy!

Chapter 4

"There you are, Cohen!" called Tammy as he walked into the gallery. "I thought you decided to ditch me here again." He rolled his eyes at that remark. He never did that. "What took you so long?"

He was about to answer her question when he suddenly noticed something strange. Except for three people that were about to leave as well, the gallery was empty. This was quite unusual, considering the hour. "Where is everyone?" he asked, forgetting her question.

"Oh yeah. That. I think the snow just scared them back home."

Which was a good thing, as far as he was concerned. This way he could be even earlier to meet Maureen and Libby. If he was still dubious earlier that day about seeing her again, meeting Libby made these doubts quickly fade away. The fact that she was her daughter made her even more adorable in his eyes. All the way back to the gallery he couldn't stop thinking about that first smile she gave him, before he even knew who she was.

There was this thing at the edge of his mind that was bugging him, though. He constantly felt as if he forgot to do something, but every time he tried to remember, a little girl with the cutest smile invaded into his thoughts.

He wondered who her father was. She said she was divorced, but he could only assume this was Libby's father. He was well familiar with her former lifestyle, and it might as well be some random guy she had a one-night stand with. Yet somehow, he knew that this wasn't the case. Even when leading such lifestyle in the past, she was never that careless. She always knew how to take care of herself. And the truth was, that it didn't really matter who Libby's father was. She loved her daughter to death. This was the one thing he was sure of, after watching the two earlier.

"Cohen, are you still with us?" Tammy's voice, somewhat irritated, snapped him back into reality. He blinked, and nodded.

"Sorry, I was-"

"-Thinking, I know," she said, winking.

He frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing!" she said innocently. "Oh, hey, what did you buy to your mom?"

"My mom?" he repeated, still unfocused. And then he realized what was the thing he forgot to do. Shit. "I forgot," he mumbled, hoping she'd miss it.

She didn't. She found that extremely funny, from some reason. "Forgot? Wasn't that the whole purpose of your leaving me here? How could you possibly go looking for a present to your mom, then forget about it?" She looked at him suspiciously.

"It was just that I met… some people… on my way, and it completely blew out of my mind."

He could sense the Horowitz-radars going into action. "Some people, huh? Is one Maureen Johnson included in those some people?" She had that tone. That Jewish mother tone she knew he dreaded.

"Let it go, Horowitz."

"Not a chance. I have every right to know, for this is the reason you left me to rot here with boredom and check books."

He knew there was absolutely no way to beat her. She was worse than his mom. "Fine. If this will make me less guilty in your so called imprisonment in this place, I'll tell you." He looked around again. They were alone. "I think we can lock up here earlier today. No one will come here in this snow."

"Why, you've got somewhere else to go to?" Here goes that false innocence again, he thought. He gave her a look and she shrugged.

"As a matter of fact, I do," he replied, not looking straight at her, pretending to be locking up.

"Marky!" she squealed, sounding like a 13 year old. "You've got a date?"

He blushed. "Shut up, Horowitz."

"Tell me everything and this is an order!"

"Fine! Just shut up for a second!" She frowned, then watched him attentively. "Yes, I met Maureen-" he started, but was soon cut off.

"I knew it!" she cried triumphantly. He shot her another glare. "Sorry."

"I bumped into her in Bloomingdale's. That is, I bumped into someone she was there with."

"This is getting interesting. I thought she was alone, who was it? New boyfriend? Girlfriend?"

"Her daughter."

Something was wrong. There was a long pause. He got absolutely no comment. Unless… for the first time… Tammy was… speechless?

"I must admit I didn't see this coming," she said eventually.

"Yeah, me too."

"That… kind of changes everything, isn't it?"

"Why would it change anything?" She didn't answer, but he knew what she was thinking about. She tried to set him up with girls ever since they decided it would never work between the two of them. He sighed. "Tammy, Maureen was… is… my friend. Yeah, we had this thing in the past, but this is not going to happen again. The fact that she's a mother doesn't make her less my friend than she was before." She said nothing, but gave him that I-know-better look. Sometimes he wondered how was it possible that she had never known Collins, yet somehow she was able to master the exact same look he used to give him whenever they discussed his and Maureen's relationship. "What?"

"Nothing! So, is there a father in there too or what?"

"No, there isn't, and don't you even start with that one," he warned her.

She raised her arms defensively. "I didn't say anything! You're gonna meet her then?"

"I'm gonna meet both of them later, so the sooner we'll lock up here the better," he said, turning off the lights and opening the door for her. "You coming?"

She walked pass him out to the street, but then changed her mind and looked back at him, unusually serious. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Cohen."

"I hope so too."

He hurried back home to shower and change before he made his way back uptown. He entered the hotel's lobby at exactly 7PM, although he thought he might get there earlier. They already waited for him there, away from the crowds and bigger groups. For a moment he just stood there, watching them. Once again, the similarity between them amazed him. While it was easy to miss when they were apart, it was almost striking when they stood next to one another. Libby looked like a miniature of her mother.

They went to a recently opened Diner. It was really nearby, only couple of minutes' walk from the Hilton. He didn't want to take them too far, because the snow was still falling quite heavily, and the hour was already kind of late for Libby, and he was afraid she would get tired. The place looked as if it was ripped out of a 50's film, and its design included red vinyl seats and a huge jukebox that played old hits.

"This place is so cute!" laughed Maureen once a young waitress left with their orders. She seemed to be a lot more comfortable around him than she was that afternoon. He started to feel more comfortable too. He knew they didn't have much time to catch up, so he decided to leave his bitterness and anger aside. Anyway, he didn't feel angry and bitter for years now, there was really no point bringing it back up. They had enough to talk about even without opening old wounds.

"So… business, huh? What is it that you do exactly?" he asked. It looked like a safe ground, and he was really interested to hear what she was doing. Thousands of other questions were whirling endlessly in his head, but he couldn't ask most of them when Libby was around.

"Advertising. I'm the manager of the publicity department of our office in San Francisco. Just got this new position last year."

"And they sent you here on Christmas? That's a bit unfair."

"Well, they do all the sum ups every year between Christmas and New Years, one year in the East Coast, then the next year in the West Coast. So this year is New York's turn… it's not like I could get away with it."

Did she try to get away with it? By the way she said it he assumed that she did, but why would she not want to come back to New York? "How long you're gonna be here?"

"Couple of days after New Years. But I'm thinking of taking couple of days off before we go back, to spend some time with this little one," she smiled, motioning Libby, who was sitting there watching him.

"How do you like New York so far, Libby?" he asked.

"It's fun," she said quietly. She sounded kind of sad though. She probably missed home.

"It's the best place to be in on Christmas," he assured her, just as the waitress set their orders on the table.

"How about you?" asked Maureen, sipping her chocolate milk shake. "I mean, ten years, huh? Time flies."

"Me? Well you know. More or less the same," he replied shortly. He hated talking about himself. He wasn't that interesting anyway, why would she want to hear about him?

"Plus some awards, couple of magazine articles and talk show interviews, international fame…"

He pretended to be looking around. "Are we still talking about me?"

She laughed. "Oh, come on Mark, I read papers. And stop being so modest, you deserve all that."

Her honesty touched his heart. He thought it was funny. Ten years ago it was she who pursued all that. The awards, the publicity, the glory. Now she didn't seem to want them for herself. "So what are you going to do on Christmas Eve?" he asked in an attempt to move the conversation away from him as possible. She must have noticed it, for she frowned slightly, but then answered his question.

"Probably stay in the hotel and watch Christmas Carol or whatever. What are you going to do?"

"I'll be in Scarsdale for the entire weekend. We have this huge dinner thing for Chanukah and everything-"

Her jaw nearly dropped. "Scarsdale? Since when you are…" her voice trailed off. She looked at him questionably.

"My father passed away couple of years ago. I thought it might do me good to start talking with my mom again."

"Did it?"

"I'd like to think that it did, but I don't know." He loved his mom, he really did, she just had that constant need to see him married and settled. Through the years, it had just gotten worse and worse. Every time he came by for a visit she had that new girl she wanted him to meet. Always the same nice, educated, boring Jewish girls that would be just like her in a couple of years.

"Mommy, how will Santa know we won't be home this year?" Libby's voice brought him back to reality.

"Because it's Santa, baby. He knows these things."

He laughed. It was so like Maureen, being so dead serious about this whole Santa nonsense they fed those poor kids. She always had that holiday spirit. He remembered she had always loved dressing up in Halloween and New Year. Of course she'd raise her daughter in the same way. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to do after all. Tradition was important.

Libby didn't look so convinced. "So he'll know where to find us?"

"Of course he will!"

"Do you think he will?" she suddenly turned to him, her eyes glistening with hope.

He stared at her for a second, totally speechless. How was he supposed to respond? He was Jewish! "Well, I don't… I'm not really…" he stammered.

Maureen laughed. "Libby, Mark doesn't celebrate Christmas."

Libby gasped, as if not celebrating Christmas was some terrible crime. "Why?"

"Because he's Jewish. It means that instead of Christmas and New Years and Halloween he celebrates other things."

"No Christmas?" echoed the child, obviously horrified.

"Hey, it's not so bad. We've got other holidays."

"Like what?"

"Like Chanukah." He saw Maureen rolling her eyes, and smiled. He remembered that one time they celebrated both Christmas and Chanukah in the loft. It's been the craziest night. She and Roger wouldn't stop laughing at him. She had that sparkle in her eyes. He knew she remembered. "It's actually like Christmas, only it lasts 8 days. And each day, you get a present."

Libby's eyes grew bigger with amazement. "Really?"

"Yeah. And we light candles and do some other stuff. So you see, it's not that horrible like your mom thinks."

"Do you really get a present for each day?" asked Maureen doubtfully. "I've always thought that either you made it up so we won't pity you, or it was kind of a make up for Jewish kids because they don't have Christmas."

"We do. I mean, kids in my class always got presents for each day," he said, putting his best miserable expression on.

"Aw, poor Marky!" cooed Maureen.

"My point is, that we've got other holidays that can be just as fun as Christmas."

She looked at him skeptically. "Umm… Yeah sure, whatever you'll say, Mark."

"Mommy, I wanna celebrate Chanukah too!" said Libby.

He burst out laughing. Maureen shot him a glare, then turned her attention to Libby. "You can't celebrate Chanukah, Munchkin, because you're not Jewish."

"How can I be one?"

"Well, you have to be born one, if I'm not mistaken."

"Actually, once you mom is Jewish, which you're mom is not, Libby, then you are Jewish too," he said. He did listen at school once.

Libby's face fell. "But I want to celebrate Chanukah and get a present for each day!" she said, her lower lip trembling. Definitely Maureen's, he thought with sheer amusement.

"You know what, let's compromise. We'll celebrate Christmas, but you'll still get a present each day until it's New Years. Huh? What do you say?"

That seemed to satisfy the little girl. Her lip stopped trembling. "Okay."

They spent the next couple of hours just talking and laughing at the Diner, until Libby's head dropped on her mother's shoulder. She looked sorrowfully at Mark.

"We should get going. I've got a meeting at 8AM sharp and she's obviously worn out. I bet you gotta be in work tomorrow too."

"I do," he said, already signaling for the waitress to bring their check. From the corner of his eye he saw Maureen reaching for her bag. "What are you doing?"

"Taking out my purse. You didn't think I'd let you pay for this dinner, didn't you?"

"And why the hell not?"

She laughed. "Mark, you always were the gentleman, but come on. It's not fair, there's two of us. Let's share it." The waitress put the check on the table. They both stretched their hands to reach for it at the same time. His hand covered hers and he gave it a little squeeze. He could feel her freeze.

"Please let me pay for that dinner," he said quietly, slowly interlacing his fingers with hers.

She hesitated, but eventually sighed. "Fine. But next time it's on me."

Their hands were still joined. It felt nice. Familiar. "We'll see about that," he said, slowly letting go of her hand.

Since Libby was almost asleep, he carried her back all the way to the hotel. He followed Maureen into the suite and waited near the door as she put the girl to bed. She came back a moment later.

"Okay. She's asleep," she said. She kept her voice low, as if there was a chance to wake Libby, although she was sound asleep several doors down the hall.

"You should get some sleep too," he said gently. She was impossibly more beautiful in the dim light that came from inside the suite, illuminating her features.

"Yeah. It's been a long day."

"I had a great time. She's an amazing kid, she really is."

She smiled. "Thank you. I had a great time too. We should do this again. Just us the next time. There are things to be said," she added seriously.

Was she talking about them? About the past? About the truth behind her marriage and Libby's father? Possibly all those things. He nodded.

"Yeah. Okay, sure. I'd love to do this again."

"When are you going to Scarsdale?"

"Friday afternoon. I'll be gone until Sunday."

"So… is tomorrow evening okay?"

He thought about it for a minute. Thursday night. He didn't have any plans… well, did he ever? He nodded. "Sure. Tomorrow will be great. I'll find a place and give you a call tomorrow." This time, he knew he would. Looking at her, she seemed to know that too.

Their gazes locked, and he suddenly realized that they were standing very close to one another. She seemed as if she wanted to say something, but she didn't. Instead she just kept looking at him. There was something in her eyes. Something he recognized from so long ago and didn't think he'd ever see in her eyes again, especially not after she dumped him. But it was there, and for a second he was mesmerized by it. He didn't dare move, in fear it might go away. It felt as if the whole world had stopped existing. Before he knew what he was doing, before he could rationalize his actions or back away, he inched closer.