It was sunny the day the letters started arriving. Jen remembered that distinctly. Orli had been ready to run out the door (he was running late and had to be on the set of Ned Kelly, a twenty-minute drive, in an hour, and he was nowhere near ready), and she had been lounging around, thinking about calling Michelle and Josh to see if they wanted to go see a movie with her later. The days were long and lonely, and she needed company in the worst way.

When the mail truck pulled up, Jen thought little of it. She ate lunch and then went out to get it. There were three letters for her, all postmarked on the same day and in identical stationery envelopes. What on Earth… she wondered as she opened them.

Her face paled as she read the letters. All three sounded similar. The first one she opened was a postscript and very short, the second was a lengthy letter and the third was another postscript.

"Orli…" she called weakly up the stairs, voice strained. "Do you have a minute?"

Orlando came racing downstairs. "I have ten minutes to make a twenty-minute drive!" he cried frantically. Then he paused for an instant. "Did you just say something? Are you all right? You look pale."

"No, I'm fine," Jen responded, collecting herself. She would tell him later.

But later never came.

One month later

"When will it stop raining?" Jen cried dramatically as she burst into the house, dripping wet.

Orlando laughed despite himself. "Carry an umbrella."

Jen looked offended. "I can't carry an umbrella! There's no room in the car."

Orlando snorted. "Use the van, then."

"That's illegal." Jen still looked insulted.

"Really."

"Yup."

"I didn't know that."

"Well, I'm glad I could inform you."

"Thanks ever so. I'm much the wiser now."

"Anytime."

The conversation over, Jen decided to go upstairs and put on some dry clothes. Even the half-minute walk from her red Mustang to the front door resulted in soaking wet hair and very damp clothes. It had been raining relentlessly for the past few days. Flash flood warnings were a guarantee every time anyone turned on the news. Jen was sick of it. Rain meant she couldn't go outside; rain meant she couldn't go swimming; rain meant walking through huge puddles to get anywhere; rain meant humidity and frizzy hair (which was a problem for Jen since she had finally grown her hair out like she'd always wanted to); rain meant loud claps of thunder than scared the dog, and lightning that caused fires (there had been one down the street a few days ago; luckily it hadn't been too bad); rain meant no beach. Lately Jen had been very into going to the beach, and even more so since she and Orli had shared their first kiss on the beach. She usually went with Orlando or Michelle, and sometimes all four of them went together. But not often; Orli was kept busy filming Ned Kelly, which wouldn't be released until the next year, and Jen was beginning work on her debut album. She had recently gotten a deal with a record company and half her life was consumed with trying to write songs and nagging Michelle to try to write songs and endless visits to the man who had hired her, John Please-Call-Me-John-Not-Mr.-Walters Walters. Josh was taking a break from acting; apparently Pearl Harbor had given him much more publicity than he ever wanted. Michelle, an actress, although not as famous as her husband, was also taking a break and attempting to do some writing. Not writing for Jen, of course. Just for herself, and possibly a publisher.

So none of the quartet had seen much of the beach lately anyway. And with the rain, Jen was really starting to resent it.

She shook her head, irritated, as she rung out her long brown hair and yanked a dry shirt off its hanger, all the while muttering to herself.

After she had changed, Jen went downstairs to the piano she had insisted on having when she and Orli were choosing furniture for their new house. She let her fingers hover over the keys for a moment, then began to play, softly singing the first words that came into her head. She flipped on the tape recorder that also lay on top of the piano, in case the song turned out to be any good.

There were chocolate colored ponies
There was air that smelled like rain
And the stars shone bright in the night sky
When I first learned you name

At that moment I felt
A tingle rising inside of me
And your name remained in my head
Like we were meant to be

I hear your name, like a bell
Ringing ringing in my heart
I knew since the moment I heard it
We should be together

But you don't see me
And you don't seem to need me
But I know, that someday
You and I will be
Together
Forever

There were chocolate colored ponies
There was air that smelled like rain
And the stars shone in the night sky
When I first learned your name

Jen smiled, pleased, as she rarely was with her writing (no matter how much some people insisted that it was good). She quickly grabbed the pad of paper and pen she kept by the piano (in case she was ever "inspired") and wrote it all down before she had time to forget it.

Jen stared at her writing for a full minute, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. Then she crossed out chocolate in the first and last stanzas and wrote in silver. She smiled again, satisfied. The minor change gave the whole thing a more mature edge.

She was running through the song again, more confidently, as she suddenly remembered what she was planning to do that day. She sighed. It wasn't a happy thing, but it had to be done. She pushed her writing aside, picked up the phone, and dialed Michelle.

She wasn't home, luckily. That would make what she had to do easier.

Michelle sat at the computer, keys clicking rapidly as she typed away.

"Get that, Josh?" she called, stopping in the middle of a word. There was no answer. Michelle shrugged and shook her head. She tried to stretch out her hand, but it was a full two feet away from the phone even though she was stretching it as far as she could, so she gave up and refused to answer the phone (that was what machines were for, she reasoned).

"Hi, you've reached Josh and Michelle. We're out, or maybe we don't feel like answering the phone right now-" isn't that the truth, Michelle thought wryly- "so leave us a nice message, you know the routine. And hey, make it amusing, if it isn't too much trouble. We like a good laugh." BEEP!

Michelle smiled at that last line and listened to the message. "Make it amusing, if it isn't too much trouble?" came Jen's skeptical voice. "Well, aren't we a bit cocky! You're probably busy-" Michelle could practically see Jen smirking on the other end of the line and laughed out loud- "and I'm sure I'm interrupting, but you know Orlando and I are going out of town tomorrow and I have some stuff for you that I need to drop off before we go. So I guess I'll just have to use that lovely little house key you gave me last week, Michelle-" why would I ever do such a stupid thing as give her a key, Michelle wondered, amused "-and leave the stuff on the table. Looks like the rain is finally letting up a bit, so let's hope it stays like that long enough for me to drive the block to your house. Yes, I'm driving. I can't really walk in this rain, now can I? Unless you're like your mother, and want to leave me in the rain and get pneumonia and die- anyway, I'm going to leave the stuff on the table. Love you! Talk to you later."

Michelle was still laughing slightly at the end of the message. She remembered all too well the sob story (actually, Jen had laughed through it) about when she, then just entering high school, rode her bike home through the rain and her mother wouldn't stop making dinner long enough to open the garage door for her, and her dad, when he finally came to the rescue, handed her some recycle bins and told her to bring them down to the street, since she was already wet. Jen obviously thought the cruelty ran in the family.

Michelle hit the Save button and closed the document, sighing a bit as she stretched; she had been cramped in the same position for nearly two hours (where does the time go? she wondered, both confused and content).

Josh appeared suddenly in the doorway. "Who was on the phone?" he asked.

"Nobody important," Michelle muttered, but grinned. "I'm going upstairs. Oh, by the way- Jen's coming over. She thinks nobody's home since neither of us actually picked up the phone…"

"I was in the bathroom," Josh interrupted. "What's your excuse?"

"I didn't want to get up?" Michelle suggested. "Anyway, she has a key, so I guess she'll just let herself in."

"All right," Josh said with a yawn. "I think I'm overdue for a nap."

"Then take one," Michelle recommended.

All of a sudden there came the distinctive sound of a key turning in the lock. Two seconds later the door burst open. Michelle laughed- Jen was soaking wet.

Jen glared at her and proceeded to pull a large, fluffy bath towel out of the humongous waterproof bag she was carrying with her. She did not look all too surprised to see them home. "So," she said conversationally as she rung out her dripping hair, "I hear answering machines come with phones these days."

Josh snickered. "You come prepared for anything, don't you?" he asked, referring to the bath towel.

Jen looked at both of them, laughing, mocking herself. "It had slowed down, but I knew that as soon as I stepped out of the car the rain would start coming down in torrents again. And wasn't I right." It was not a question; sure enough, thick sheets of rain were drenching the streets. "Plus," Jen, whose car of choice (she and Orli had three, not counting the limo Orli used for parties and the like) was her own aforementioned Mustang, added, pointedly ignoring the looks Josh and Michelle were exchanging, "there's no room in the car for an umbrella." She pulled a folder out of her bag and handed it to Michelle, who placed it on the coffee table.

"Take your van, then," Josh suggested automatically.

Jen looked miffed, to say the least. "I can't! That's illegal."

Michelle doubled over in helpless laughter.

Josh left the room, muttering to himself, something that sounded very much like, "Women."

"So where are you going?" Michelle asked.

Jen looked surprised that her best friend hadn't remembered. "Orli and I are going up to New York for a long weekend, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Between her work and keeping up with Josh and trying to have a semblance of a life somewhere in between, Michelle had completely forgotten.

"Anyway, I just wanted to drop this stuff off," Jen continued, pulling a folder stacked with papers out of her bag, which had little ponies on it.

"Nice bag." Michelle snickered.

"Thank you, it was a present for my second birthday. I remember Mommy opening it for me. It was a happy day," Jen added, eyes misting over.

"Why aren't you acting?" Michelle wondered. "Everybody else around here does; you sure could. Hey, I meant to ask. What did you mean when you said on the machine, 'You're probably busy right now'?"

Jen grinned fiendishly. "You already know."

"You are a demented specimen of the human race."

"Yes I am."

"So, have a fun trip," Michelle added in a rare moment of seriousness.

"We will, thanks." The evil smile remained on Jen's face.

"Go to the MTV place."

"Actually, Orli wants to avoid it, but I might go on my own," Jen laughed. "He's trying to keep a low profile. I have no idea why. It seems to be working for now, though."

"And it's your duty to get him back into the crowds," Michelle informed her. "Now, get out of my house!" She was laughing.

"I have a key, you know," Jen commented. "You never should have given that to me…"

"You're right, give it back." Michelle made a grab for the key but missed.

Jen, laughing, ducked. Then, suddenly turning serious, she pulled Michelle close and hugged her. "Love ya," she whispered.

Michelle was surprised. "Love you too," she responded as the phone began to ring. "Get that, Josh!" she screamed up the stairs. "We're having a special moment down here!"

Jen laughed, turned and went out the door, locking it behind her as if to remind Michelle that she did, after all, have a key of her very own.

Michelle laughed, shook her head and went upstairs to see what Josh was doing. She almost collided with him as he raced down the stairs, phone in hand. "Did she leave yet?" he asked, sounding panicked.

"Yeah, why?" Michelle asked, puzzled. "Who's on the phone?"

"Orli."

Michelle felt the beginnings of alarm. Josh looked worried. "What did he want?"

"He wanted to know if Jen had stopped by here, and when I said she was getting ready to go, he just said, 'Don't let her leave.'"

"WHAT?" Michelle cried. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Think we should find out?" Josh asked.

Michelle wondered idly if Jen had deliberately locked the door behind her so she and Josh would have to unlock it before they could get out, buying Jen more time.

They both ran out into the rain after Jen, who was already climbing into her Mustang. "Shit," they distinctly heard her mutter as she saw them.

Somehow they both caught up to her before she could get in the car. Michelle shoved herself between Jen and the door.

"Orli called, huh?" Jen said, almost casually.

"Wanna explain?" Josh demanded, sounding both annoyed and concerned.

Jen muttered another obscenity. "He wasn't supposed to find that till later." Then, turning her attention to Michelle, she added, "I explained everything in what's in that folder. There's nothing more to say."

"Well, how about if you just tell me anyway," Michelle suggested, "because I haven't actually read it yet. I figured you were helping me with some music or tunes or something, since you're the musical genius, you know, but I guess you're so wrapped up with your problems that that would be asking too much."

That made Jen angry. "That isn't all that's in there." She stepped forward. "Let me get in the car. If you haven't read the letter, you can't possibly understand."

Michelle steeled herself for rage. "No."

"You don't understand." Jen's voice sounded almost desperate now.

"I would if you would just tell me," Michelle responded.

"Read the letter," Jen snapped, "and let me get in my car."

"No."

Jen sighed and started to go around the other side, only to discover that Josh was already blocking that door. "You need to explain, Jen," he said gently.

"No, I don't. What else did Orli say?"

"He's coming over."

"Well, this just gets better and better," Jen muttered, annoyed. "I swear I am going to hit one of you if you will not let me get in my own car."

"Go ahead," Josh invited.

He was saved from possible damage as Orli pulled up in his own car. Jen turned to run, but Josh grabbed her arm. She sighed. She couldn't win. "Fine," she muttered. "Fine. I can deal with this…" She tried to twist her arm free but couldn't.

Orli jumped out of the car and ran to them. He grabbed Jen by the shoulders and started shaking her, as much from anger as relief. "You freakin' idiot!" he screamed over and over. But he sounded more scared than mad.

"Orli!" she cried, pulling free. "Stop!"

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he demanded, still yelling.

"You read the letter if you're here." Jen's voice was calm. "Can't you figure it out?"

"You think that was a reason to leave?"

Jen looked as offended as she could possibly get in such a situation. "I was not planning to leave," she stated. "Did you not see the part where I swore I was coming back? I just needed… Orli, I am not going to be responsible for them dying. It would be my fault."

"You explained that too; I know what you needed."

"Well, I don't," Michelle interrupted. "Will somebody please explain to us what's going on?" Josh nodded in silent agreement, the genuine puzzlement on his face rivaling Michelle's melodramatic expression.

"Can we go inside, then?" Jen asked, refusing to look at any of them.

"Yeah, we can always use Jen's big fluffy bath towel to dry off," Josh murmured, trying to lighten the tension in the air. When they got inside, Jen handed the towel to him without a word or a smile.

"Okay, so explain," Michelle insisted. "And feel free to sit on the sofa, it'll dry."

Jen still seemed to find the deep red carpet a fascinating place to be staring at. Still not saying anything, she grabbed the folder Michelle had left on the coffee table and opened it. Silently, she handed it to Michelle. Michelle's face paled as she read its contents. She noted with a small measure of satisfaction that Jen had put some of Michelle's words to music, as she had promised, since that was something Michelle had no talent for. But that wasn't what caught her eye.

There were multiple month-old, and more recent, envelopes inside, all handwritten and all from one R.L. Cook. Said R.L. Cook did not seem to have gotten over Orli and was trying to scare Jen away by threatening her, Michelle and Josh (whom she had given up on since the "incidence" at the LMNT concert, in which Jen, Orli and Michelle had severely damaged her normally beautiful hair with concession stand junk food). Said threats including kidnapping (although none of the four could really be termed as "kids" anymore), rape and murder (cleverly done, of course). R.L. Cook warned that if Jen didn't leave Orli, she would kill Michelle and Josh, hurt Jen and then steal Orli (which of course would probably never happen). There was also a note to Michelle from Jen, explaining why she felt she had to leave, with many assurances that she would be back, but needed to know certain things she couldn't find out by staying at home. In a flash Michelle understood everything. As usual, her insane best friend was trying to save the world. She knew Rachael was just trying to scare her away, but she couldn't be sure Rachael wouldn't follow through on her threats. And she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she thought her best friends deaths' could have been prevented.

Michelle glanced at Jen. The rain had fallen relentlessly as they all stood outside, and it was difficult to tell whether Jen's face was wet from the rain, or if she was crying. Maybe it was a little of both. "Get it yet?" Jen whispered. She was speaking to Michelle. "I refuse to be responsible for you two dying."

Josh, still not understanding, wrestled the letters away from Michelle, who was gripping them tightly without realizing it.

"You were just going to leave us?" Michelle asked quietly.

"I was not going to leave," Jen insisted. "I just needed to get away."

"Why?"

"I was scared, Michelle, can't you understand that?"

"And just how long were you planning to stay away?" Michelle demanded, ignoring Jen, beginning to get angry.

"Maybe a week or two," Jen said quietly. "I just needed to know what was going to happen, and how well they were tracking me."

Orlando, who had until then been keeping silent, spoke up for the first time. "Why did you never tell me?"

"I tried." Jen's voice was still quiet and reasonable, although the words coming out were not. "The first time I ever got the letters, I tried. But you were running late that day. Remember, you had ten minutes to make a twenty-minute drive?"

Orli winced as the details of that day came back to him fully. "And I stopped to tell you that you looked pale and asked if something was wrong… I should have known."

"I was going to tell you later, but you were exhausted. And the next day I got more letters warning me not to tell anyone about them. They said that if I did they'd hurt you."

Josh finally finished reading everything and spoke. "How would they manage to do anything to us? They were just trying to scare you away."

"How could I be sure they wouldn't follow through?"

"You still should have told us…" Michelle started, then broke off. "Oh wait, never mind, I'm a fine one to talk."

"What does that mean?" Josh asked tensely.

Michelle heaved a sigh and went upstairs. She returned moments later with an envelope gripped tightly in her hand. She looked at Jen and said, "I had explicit orders not to tell anyone, but I guess it doesn't matter now."

Josh grabbed the neatly typed letter. Orli and Jen began reading over his shoulder.

It was more of the same: threats.

But this letter was written by Tobey Maguire.

"How is this possible?" Jen whispered as she read. "At the wedding…"

Michelle nodded grimly. "Keep reading. It didn't really have anything to do with the two of us…"

"It had to do with me," Josh spoke up; he was further along than Jen. "They're trying to use Michelle to hurt me."

Nobody said anything for a full minute, even after everyone had finished reading the letter. Michelle was the first to speak. "I have to admit, I entertained thoughts of going away, too. I needed to know if they were just sending stuff to our house, or if they were really watching us. But in my case it would have been stupid to go away… I guess I shouldn't be yelling at you, Jen."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Josh whispered, for the first time fully realizing the fear and horror Jen and Michelle had been harboring.

"Didn't you read the part where they said they would kill Jen and Orli if I did? I thought that part was pretty much self-explanatory."

"Don't get all sarcastic, Michelle, now really isn't the time."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Jen asked the inevitable question. "So what are we going to do?"

"We're not leaving, any of us." Orli's face was set. "That would just be giving them what they want."

Jen sighed. The spacious living room suddenly seemed very small. She could swear the walls were closing in on her. She was suddenly very dizzy. Without knowing why, she began to fall backwards and found herself unable to regain her balance. From far away she heard Michelle's voice: "Grab her, she's going to fall!" From far away she felt Orlando catch her just in time and carry her over to the sofa. Nice, to be carried like that. From far away, she heard the phone ring. And then she stopped hearing anything as she floated away into a peaceful oblivion.

Ten minutes later (according to Josh), she opened her eyes and blinked several times; the harsh light after the blackness was too intense. The first thing she noticed was three faces peering at her. Even Michelle was looking down at her. When did Michelle ever look down at Jen? She was too short. Michelle didn't look down at anything except the floor. Everything else was taller than her. Jen voiced her concerns.

"Where am I, what happened, and when did Michelle grow so much that she has to look down at me? How long have I been dead?"

Josh, Orli and Michelle all laughed slightly, but their faces were drawn and worried.

Michelle answered Jen's questions. "You're at our house, you passed out, and I have always been monstrously tall; you know this. You've been 'dead,' as you so eloquently word it, for about ten minutes, according to Josh."

"What's wrong?" Jen asked, noticing the concern on their faces.

Michelle hesitated. "You'll pass out again."

"She has a right to know." Josh's voice was soft but firm.

Michelle spoke reluctantly. "We got a phone call."

"From?" Jen prompted, dreading the answer as everything that had just happened came rushing back to her.

Michelle paused a moment before answering, clearly still unsure. She looked at Josh. After years of knowing him both as a friend and lover, she had learned to read his eyes as well as any other part of his body. They spoke to her. If you don't tell her, I will, they insisted. But it should be you. Michelle sighed and answered the question. "Rachael Leigh Cook."