AN: sorry this took so long, its much harder for me to write then my other story, so its takeing a bit longer... I'm not really sure where I'm going with this one, though I know where I want it to end... if you have any suggestions, please feel free to send them my way... and don't forget to review!

Part 2

"So, your back here, Wallace is in the Carolina's and Logan is going to Law school at some fancy school in the Mid-West. Where's the mysterious Duncan?" Weevil lounged on the bed; his shoed feet perched off the side of the bed, while he leaned against her head board.

"He's out of the country. He and Lilly are doing really well; she'll be six in December. He sends me pictures every few months and letters about how she's doing in school and that kind of thing. No, I don't know where he is, though I do know that he works for his dad and is doing rather well for himself." She mimicked Weevil's comfortable position, though the butterflies in her stomach still haven't settled. Being in his tattoo shop had been one thing, even with her pants unbuttoned and her shirt tucked into her bra, she had some kind of comfort zone, they hadn't really been alone then, now they where, and half buried feelings that she had ignored in high school where cropping up again.

"Little miss detective doesn't know where her boy is? I find that hard to believe." Weevil gave her a playful smile and winked, knowing that it was killing her not to know where Duncan was.

"He asked me not to find him and I'm respecting that." She looked at her hands, trying not to give away what she knew, knowing that if Weevil could see into her eyes, he would know her secretes, the way he had been able to years ago. They might have been away from each other for five years, but some things just didn't fade with time.

"So what about you, what are doing back in California, I though that you had escaped."

"I did, I went to school in New York, and I loved it there. I got my degree in photography, yeah, I got an art degree, and I worked part time at the police department, taking pictures for them, mostly crime scene work. About three months ago, Dad called, he's been working really hard these past years, saving up money and building Mars Investigations, and he wants to open a new office, one here in San Diego, I've come home to run it."

"So, your back?"

"I'm back. Do I get to hear your story now?" She lifted her eye brows at Weevil, waiting for his answer. He took his time, gathering his thoughts, and then turned to her.

"I've been here, for the past five years I've been working at the shop. I've done designs for all kinds of people, and I love it. But about two years ago I decided that I wanted something else, I wanted to do art that everyone would appreciate, not just ink on other people's skin. I started taking art classes at the local community college; I have another year before I get my degree in graphic art." Her grin took over her face; she had had so much confidence in him back in high school, and was so thrilled to know that he had done something, something for himself, something that he had come to on his own.

"That's fantastic." She had the urge to hug him, but simultaneously had the urge to throw up; she shot off the bed and toward the bathroom. He followed closely behind, and rubbed her back, above the tattoo, while she was sick.

"You okay, Chica?"

"Yeah, just a bit nauseous, and I'm getting a head ache."

"Brush your teeth, I'm going to run to the vending machine and get you some skittles, the sugar should help."

"How is sugar going to help my stomach?" She loaded up her tooth brush with tooth paste and sticking it in her mouth, scrubbing away the taste, attacking her tongue with the bristles.

"Just trust me on this one." He left, propping the hotel room door open as he ran out.