When illusion spin her net
I'm never where I want to be
And liberty she pirouette
When I think that I am free
Watched by empty silhouettes
Who close their eyes but still can see
No on taught them etiquette
I will show another me

Peter Gabriel; Solsbury Hill

Dull footfalls echoed off of pale, concrete walls as Mike paced in the cell. He rubbed his wrists, glad that the cuffs had been removed; but his heart still pounded. He sat on the bench, which whined in meek protest to his weight. With a deep sigh, the Irishman played the previous events in his mind over and over:

The table. Talking with Daphne. Fred coming in. Arguing. Insults. Losing temper. A slam against the wall, and the arrival of the police department.

Mike lowered his head, running his hands into his hair, wringing his fingers into the locks in frustration.

Jesus! He thought to himself, Daphne's probably never going to forgive me. I hope Fred's alright; I don't want to hurt him like I had done to my own brother.

Mike felt his eyes heat up at the last thought. At that moment, Mike wondered what Aaron was thinking of him at this moment. Or perhaps, still angry at him for past occurrences? His chest knotted up; he wanted to know, but he also feared what the reply would be had he actually asked the question.

"Dear brother," Mike murmured, glancing around to make sure nobody was looking, "Please tell me there will be some light."

The resounding CLANG! of a steel door made Mike jump to his feet. It was a sound that he quickly learned to fear. Bewildered, he dashed to the bars of his cell to investigate. He could only make out a few figures at the end of the hall to his immediate right. He squinted, his green eyes doing their best to catch any detail.

Even the voices were incomprehensible; they were small and confined. Even with the enormous amount of space the room allowed for the travel of sound, their discussion was still out of Mike's earshot. He growled to himself, becoming more and more aggravated. The muscles in his face scrunched up and he shook his head, and then allowed them to relax, making him look more weary than he actually was.

Wait, he thought. Watching the three at the end of the hall, he noticed that they were moving steadily in his direction. Shifting one foot to the other like an excited dog at a shelter, Mike sighed and managed to recompose himself by the time the voices – all of them recognizable – came in earshot of him.

"He's right here, guys," the heavyset officer said in a professional tone, leading them to the cell. He adjusted his belt and glanced briefly at Fred. "So, you're the one he went after?"

"Yes," Fred nodded.

"And you want to drop charges?" the officer replied, a hint of surprise in his voice. He merely raised his bushy eyebrows when the blonde man only nodded.

The uniformed man wandered to his desk and pulled open a drawer. He placed a thin manila folder on the light surface, then removed s few sheets of paperwork.

"What's this?" Daphne murmured coolly.

"These are notes taken on the event, pretty much. Nothing too big," came a self-assured response. With a thick index finger, he bunted a ballpoint pen in Fred's direction.

"Go see how Mike's doing," Fred instructed Daphne, "I got this under control."

Daphne bobbed her head up and down enthusiastically. She gave her cohort her usual thin smile, and then she stated, "Thanks, Fred. I appreciate it. I really do." Fred arched a brow in a somewhat playful manner and nodded.

As Fred bent down to skim the paperwork, Daphne approached the iron bars. Mike's heart raced. What was she here for? Was she angry? Were they here to press the charges? He found himself nearly choking on the lump in his throat.

"Daphne, what are you doing here?" he asked, "Did they need you here to press charges?"

"Now, why would we do that?" Daphne reassured.

Mike's jaw dropped and he eyed her wordlessly for a split second. "Wait. What are you getting at?" he asked.

"We're not pressing charges."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, Mike. I didn't bribe Fred or pay him, it was actually his idea."

Mike looked across the room at Fred, who was still analyzing the papers. He grinned softly, and felt as if he had been tremendously rewarded. With a sigh, the Irishman sent a silent prayer of thanks to Aaron.

"Perhaps you guys can get off to a better start," Daphne chuckled.

"Oh, I hope so," Mike nodded, "I actually felt like an intruder when we first met, as if I had barged in on some important meeting of some sort."

Daphne snorted playfully through her nose. "Yeah, Fred tends to get protective. Don't get mad at him, that's just how he is."

"Well, being the group leader on all those paranormal investigations would instill that instinct into anyone, I suppose."

"Good point. And very true."

Mike looked around again. Daphne, confused, attempted to follow his gaze. "Something wrong?" she asked upon failure to detect the object of his attention.

"I'm going to ask you a very personal question," he replied softly.

"Why not?" Daphne asked. "Shoot." She placed her hands on her hips and waited patiently.

Mike's mouth went dry. He cleared his throat and swallowed several times before attempting to speak. He felt Daphne's eyes on him, still waiting.

Quit stalling, you idiot! Mike scolded himself. And wrinkled his brow sheepishly as he asked, "Are you… seeing anybody?" Oh, God. Oh, Jesus Christ, that was the wrong thing to ask!

Daphne's mouth gaped open a moment. How the hell am I going to reply to this? A moment of consideration: She and Fred were merely close friends. Due to work with her small detective hobby and her job, Daphne realized that she actually hadn't much of a life despite the obvious. Oh, dear. I should get out more.

"Actually, no I'm not," she replied. Mike smiled. "Are you?" Daphne blurted. She flinched and wanted to kick herself. Stop thinking aloud! she chided.

Mike chuckled as he saw a shade of scarlet paint his companion's cheeks. "That leaves two of us, then," he said in a soft voice, as if not wanting anyone other than Daphne to hear.

"Is that an invite?" Daphne asked, repeating the low volume.

"Wow – if..if you want it to be," Mike stammered, unable to control the wide, crooked smile that lit up his features.

She leaned in, placing her hands on the bars. "Hey, keep it down," she chuckled.

Mike stood up straight and gently rubbed her knuckles. When he succeeded in attracting her immediate attention, their eyes locked.

Daphne felt as if she were unable to move, however this was not an intimidating presence. She was frozen still partially due to the fact that she wanted to be.

Voices blurred out, descending into small whispers of sound in the distance. Everything else in vision seemed to melt, and it was only the two of them.

Daphne sighed when she felt Mike's fingertips rubbing the top of her hand, and she reached up with the other, timidly stroking his cheekbone. When Mike continued to gaze at her, she placed it over his collarbone.

They drew in closer and they slid their eyes shut. It was a timid move, and they hesitated when they both felt the breath of the other fall across the lower half of their faces.

Mike opened his eyes only slightly. "What is it?" His voice was soft and low, so only Daphne could hear.

Daphne smiled genuinely and replied, "I'm just nervous." Their eyes locked again, even though they were half open.

"It's only me. No need to be nervous," Mike's rough brogue reassured.

Daphne leaned closer, and they both closed their eyes. They felt no need to hesitate as their lips met in a warm, sincere kiss.