XXdestinedXXforXXpainXXThank you very much for reviewing. And now, about the spacing thing. When I upload the chapter from Microsoft word, it still has the spaces, but sometimes, from my computer to the internet, some of the words get squeezed together. And I don't really think there's much I can do about that.

Mediatorgrrl—Thank you so much for the comments, they really made my day. Oh, and yeah, I would never have someone have an abortion. NEVER. But I think I'm going to do about two more chapters of this Jess/Rob romance thing before I move on.

Mouchefly—Aw, thank you. I liked that chapter, too.

I know that I told some of you that I wasn't going to do a flashback chapter of how Jess and Rob broke up, but I think it would work in this chapter.

Heidi

Disclaimer: I only own the plot, the flashback, and the unknown characters.

The Rain and Flashbacks

"You cannot be serious," was the oh-so-heartfelt reply I got from Cecelia after I told her about what happened the day before. Well, everything except the whole baby fiasco.

"Why can't I be serious?" I inquired.

She stood up from the extra chair that she had pulled in front of my wheelie chair and placed two hands on my shoulders. "Consider what you're telling me, Jess."

I pretended to look thoughtful for a moment, and said, "Done thinking, but still doesn't know why I 'can't be serious'." I made air quotes around the last three words.

She took her hands off my shoulders since she apparently caught on to the death glares I was shooting at her hands—yes, after all these years, I still hate people touching me. Well, there's one person I wouldn't mind touching me, but, you know, I've never really believed in the whole fooling around in the office concept—and said, her eyeballs looking like they were about to pop out of her head, "Come on, Jess. At first, you feel very indifferent of this guy who—by the way—practically tore your heart out of your chest, chucked it on to the floor, and made four dozen horses run over it, and now you're telling me that only after one heated make out session and intimate conversation, you're back in love with him? Is he really worth it?"

I bit my lip. I felt sort of desperate for some reason. You know, like I'm about to cry or something. Only, of course I wasn't going to cry. I'm Jessica Mastriani, one of the toughest FBI agents, I don't cry. "I'm beginning to think that he is. I mean, he's so sweet and caring and he knows what it takes to make me feel better."

Cecelia put both of her hand's middle and index finger to her temples andhissed through gritted teeth, "That was a rhetorical question. I didn't want an answer. And if he makes you 'feel better,'" she make air quotesthe way I did earlier, excepthers looked more like four hooks just itching to scratch someone's eyes out, "why did he make you feel like completecrap so many years ago?" Onlycrap wasn't the exact wording she chose to use.

Then it happened. Everything that had happened that night just all camescreaming back to me. That night. The atmosphere. The temperature that the stupid creepy unstable Indiana weather chose to be.

I walked over to Rob with mug of the chocolate milkshake that I made forhim. Well, technically it was out of powder, but he doesn't need to know that, does he?

He turned around from the bike that he was fixing. When he saw me, his face visibly brightened. "Hey, Mastriani. Happy birthday." He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, but that was all that I had needed to be happy.

Rob sat us down two wooden chairs in the garage. I handed him his milkshake. He thanked me.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it to your birthday party. I had to finish this family's car before they had to head off to Barbados," he said.

I shook my head. "No, it's okay. I totally understand. Though my party would be so much more fun with you around. Then instead of the one guest I had, the number would increase by another."

He laughed. It was great to hear it. I mean, it's not that he doesn't laugh a lot or anything, but it's just that whenever I hear his voice I just feel this tinge of excitement. It's a total side effect of being in love.

"And besides," I added, smiling, "it's not like we don't have the rest of our lives together."

His laughter faded,and helooked at me.

Afraid that I may have said something wrong, I asked, "What?"

He took a deep breath. Like he was about to say something that he knew he would regret or something.

Oh, my God, I thought, Is he going to break up with me? What had I done? Was it that thing with the kid in Albany? I swear I hadn't meant for his mother to find out and go all wacko on me and have a heart attack. That wasn't part of the plan.

"Jess," he said. He is going to break up with me; he's even using my first name. "We've been going out for about two years now." Okay, not exactly breakup lingo. But not something you'd say when you want to jump your girlfriend either. "And I think it's time that we talk about the future a bit."

Phew. Okay. It's just the talk I can fully handle this. "Right. Fine, so should I start or do you want to?"

"Either way is fine," he said, shrugging those broad, strong shoulders.

Just then, I got an exigent question that could not wait another second. "You do see me in your future, don't you?" I didn't want to seem like one of those girls on television who are always going, "If this relationship has no future, I don't see why we would see each other anymore." Except, that I apparently did. To Rob, anyway.

Since he went, looking sort of annoyed, "Of course."

Ignoring his expression of annoyance, I asked, "So what do you see in store for Rob and Jess, say, ten years from now?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment and then answered, with a dazed look on his face, "I see us, married with two kids, a girl and a boy with two dogs. And we'd be living in a nice house upstate—because the schooling districts are obviously better than the one around here—with a huge yard where our kids could play. We'd both have steady jobs, but one of us would be home some of the times to take care of kids . . .and we'd live happily ever after."

I nodded. I like that. Except one thing…

"When you said upstate, which upstate did you mean? Upstate Connecticut, upstate California, upstate New York?"

Rob looked at me strangely. "No, upstate Indiana. What did you expect?"

My face stiffened and I said in a firm voice, "I expected more."

He twisted his face into aodd shape that reminded me of a dried up orange. "More?"

I nodded. Feelingreally agitated, which is,of course, something that I think I'll never grow out of no matter how much detention I get in or how much counseling I receive from Mr. Goodhart oranyone else."Yes. More, because unlike you I want to get out of this hick town and out of this unindustrialized state where the most exciting thing is the Indy 500s! And while I like racing, it's not like they're ever going to hold the Olympics here or anything."

"But this is the place where we grew up."

I took a deep breath, took his hands in mine, and smiled, attempting to calm myself. "You're right. It's the place we grew up in, but I want to get away from this place. I didn't have what you would call good memories here." I let go of his hands and threw mine in the air. "I want to travel the world! See different sites. Try out new things. And I—we—can't do that in Indiana, because let's face it, this town is as boring as…It's not as exciting as other places."

"Jess, this place may not be all that exciting but it's home."

Suddenly, I wasn't feeling just agitated anymore, I felt a flame starting to build up inside me. "It may be home, but it can't be home forever!" I exclaimed. And when Rob tried to say something, I cut him off before a word even left his lips. "Just listen to what I'm trying to say here, Rob. I don't want to stay in this place where nothing can happen. For crying out loud, this is one of the only places terrorists do not want to attack because it's so incredibly dull, it wouldn't be worth it!"

Rob looked at me incredulously. "And being in a terrorist-free environment is unsatisfactory to you? Let's gain some perspective here—"

Now the flame that was there turned into a wild forest fire just by those last five words. "Perspective? You want me to gain some perspective? Okay, now let's talk about that, shall we? There may be reasons behind why I can't gain any perspective. Have you thought about those? I mean, one," I held up a finger, "my boyfriend who, by the way, I have slept with, hasn't even told me he loves me," I raged with a sardonic smile on my face.

"Two," I said in that same tone with the same expression on my face and I held up another finger, "Above mentioned boyfriend has been trying to push me out of his life ever since we started our very strange 'relationship'," I made air quotes around the word relationship, "and had just let me into his life only after six months of my nagging." Okay, so that wasn't exactly true. But really, who cared at a time like this?

"Oh, and did I mention?" I raged on, not caring that Rob is looking at me expressionlessly, plus the fact that it looked as if all the blood had drained from his face, and in addition to that, I had noticed some new veins on Rob's forehead that I hadn't noticed before, "Said boyfriend just told me that he wanted to stay in this goddamn state for the rest of his life?"

"Also," I laughed bitterly as I felt a tear roll down my cheek, "if that's not enough," my voice broke, "I have been chased by these sons of bitches from the FBI since I got this stupid gift that—"

"Mastriani, enough," Rob boomed out to me.

It was the first time that Rob had raised his voice at me. Ever. To tell you the truth, I was scared. I was very scared. He looked mad. And disgusted. Not the normal about of disgust that he shows on his face whenever he smiles at me either.

But a type of disgust that was caused by antipathy.

"I don't want to hear about anymore of your complaints. If you're so unsatisfied with me, then why are we still…us?"

My jaw dropped. "Are you breaking up with me?"

He ran a hand through his hair. And I noticed that his hand was shaking. Violently shaking. "No, I don't want to break up with you. It's just that I have a feeling that you're not going to change your mind about the future, and I don't want to either, and I just think…I just think that…"

But before I could hear about what he thought, I spat words that I knew I would regret for the rest of my life. "You know what? I don't care anymore. I just don't care. If you really even have to pause to think about how you want things to work out between us, if you even have to think about how to feel about me and what we have. It's over. I'm going. Good bye, Rob." Forever, I thought.

And stormed out.

Now, instead of feeling desperate, I was feeling a bitirritated over this whole business. Not exactly at Cecelia, but at myself for thinking about that horrible evening. But as Mr. Goodhart used to say, I have problems expressing my anger. "Cecelia, what do you have against him? Last night you called me and told me that you thought he was a wonderful person!" I screamed, feeling seriously grateful over the fact that all offices are soundproofed.

She sighed and a moment of silence fell upon us. "You know what? I'm really sorry, honey. It's just that you're my best friend. I've actually never really had such a close friend before, ever. And I guess I just sometimes get a bit overprotective of you." Cecelia held her arms out and smiled.

She looked pretty when she smiled, which wasn't often, now that that I think of it. But when she does—smile, I mean—she lights up the whole room with her snow white teeth, rosy cheeks, shiny brown eyes, and glossy red curls. Even though she's in her mid-thirties, she still looks very attractive.

I got up off of my chair and hugged her. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

When we pulled out of our hug, Cecelia scooted the chair that she was sitting in back into its little corner by the photocopier and said, "We'd better get back to work or else Krantz may have an apoplexy."

Just as she was about to cross over the threshold of my office she turned around and said, "Jess, can you do me a favor?"

I looked up from the file I was inspecting, nodded, and replied, "Anything."

"Go out on a date with this guy, see if he's changed. Really talk to him, see what he's been up to and then decide whether you should get back with him or not. Please. I just don't you back the way you were when you first joined our team."

After a moment of hesitation, I agreed.


As Rob walked into the apartment, where I was still trying to decide what to wear, I greeted him with a hello, a kiss—nothing too big, just a peck on the lips—and a "We're going out to dinner today."

He seemed content with that and asked, "So, is it a date?"

"If you want to think of it that way," I answered with a silly grin on my face, because of course it was a date. I do not usually like to go out to eat unless it's a) my father's restaurant, which is in Indiana, not New Yorkor b) it's a date with someone I really liked, you know, romantically.

When he just stood there in the middle of the living room, I commanded, "Go get changed, this restaurant is a very fancy place."

He pretended to look offended. "Hey. I changed for work today. I didn't want the patient with the eye infection's eye to get more infectious looking at a doctor who was wearing jeans and a t-shirt to work."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, allow to me rephrase my sentence. While your blue button down shirt and khaki pants are very nice and all, they do nothing for your form." I strolled forward until I was directly in front of him, put both of my hands on his chest and whispered, "Something nicer may make your wildest fantasies come true," raising my eyebrows suggestively.

Rob shivered. "Really," he said in that same between-a-question-and-a-statement-tone, and gulped. Hard. Which wasn't the only thing of his that was hard at the moment if you know what I mean.

Honestly, say hello to Dr. Wilkins.

I've still got it. And now I will be doing my victory dance.

Actually, I didn't do any dances indicating my victory over Rob. Instead, I just meandered back into my room…looking victorious and feeling that my ego had just been boosted about forty notches.

Although I do hope that that goes away by the time we head out because it may be a bit embarrassing to walk around with a man who is, um, engorged.

Anyway, approximately fifteen minutes later, I had put together and put on a fabulous outfit which consisted of my dark red dress—yes, I know, big surprise here, Jessica Mastriani in a full-length dress—black heels and a white gold necklace with a ruby pendent.

I was about to put on makeup when there was a knock at my door.

"Come in," I hollered to Rob.

I heard the door open behind me and the soft footsteps of Rob walking over to the mirror at which I was putting on makeup.

He slipped his armed around my waist from behind, and said, "You look beautiful tonight."

I turned around and looked him up and down, whilst noticing that a certain someone wasn't gone yet. I grinned inwardly. "You don't look bad, either." And turned around to finish putting on mascara.

From the reflection of the mirror, I saw Rob frown.

"What's wrong? Why so glum, chum?" I asked, using the same line I had used in his house when we were in our 'non-relationship.'

Rob shook his head. "It's nothing, really. It's just that…"

"What?" I asked, not liking that I didn't know what was going on,

"I don't like it that you're putting makeup on."

I stopped mid-stroke and turned around again. Really, only if people had four pairs of eyes, one on both sides of their heads. That would seriously make things easier in more than one way.

"What's wrong with my makeup?" I asked, "Did I make myself look too hookerish again?"

"No, you look fine," he said, trying to find the right words like if he didn't I would punch him or something. Really, like I'd ever punch him now that I think I may possibly be in love with him. Again."You just looked better without it."

I snorted and turned around. "Yeah, right. I'm so sure."

But just after I'd put my mascara back into my purse and pulled out eye shadow, he reached out and grasped my wrist. Not in a way that you grip someone's wrist to stop them from plummeting their fist into your eye or anything, but in more kind and gentle way.

"Mastriani, come on. Let's just go to dinner."

And I let him drag me out of the apartment. Which reminded me that back when I was still best friends with Ruth, she would totally be going, "Feminist rights violation." Not that I'm enemies with Ruth now or anything, but we've definitely drifted apart given the way she reacted to my dropping by at her house when I went to look for Rob: nonchalantly.

Well, anyway, I locked up the apartment and we headed out.

"Tell me about this place," Rob said, conversationally while I dug around for my address book to make sure that we weregoing in the right direction. Even though I've been to Emilio's about four million times, I still couldn't remember whether I turn left or right on Bleecker Street.

"Um," I said, finally finding my address book and flipping through it, "It's a super fancy Italian restaurant. Oh, and when I say Italian I do not mean that American-Italian food that most restaurants serve. I mean true, genuine Italian food. It's really good. And plus, their tables are all cute and semi-circly."

As I checked the address Rob asked, "Does this restaurant need reservations?"

Satisfied that I'd gotten the correct address, I said, "For normal people, yes. But the owner is one of my really close friends—actually, when I first came to New York, he was one of the first people I helped, because his daughter was kidnapped. After I found herwe got to talking and decided we were both very cool people—and he always leaves a table open for me. He even had Lightening Girl put on the table instead of a number, just for me. Emilio is a very sweet guy."

Rob was silent for a minute, and then he asked, "Do you like him?"

I said, totally oblivious of what he was really asking, "Yeah, Emilio's the best. In fact, when I first moved here—"

"No," he interrupted, averting my steady gaze on his eye and staring at the concretesidewalk instead, "Do you like him…romantically?"

I laughed hysterically at that one. "Okay, Rob?" I said, still laughing, took both his hands in mine and stopped walking, "Emilio is forty-five and happily married. His children are in college."

Rob blushed and attempted to preserve what was left of his dignity by saying, "Look, Jess, I—"

But I cut him off. "It's okay," I said, starting to walk again since there were gray clouds that looked about just one town away, "In fact, you have no idea how much it means to me that you care. Would it mean more if you said that you loved me? Yes." I continued before Rob got a chance to do any of this sad little explaining, "But for right now, I'll settle for this." And kissed him on the lips.

We were standing in front of Emilio's fifteen minutes. Just as we were about to enter, Emilio came out.

Not to greet us or anything, but apparently to go across the street to pick up something because there was a bakery across the street andhe was holding his wallet.

He was looking quite stressed for someone getting cake, but when he saw me, he brightened. "Look who's here, it's my favorite customer and best psychic!"

I flashed a smile at him. "Oh, Emilio. Please. You're going to spoil me with the compliments." Even though technically being the best psychic wasn't really a compliment seeing as how I'm probably the only psychic he knows in person.

"What brings you here today, Jess?" Emilio asked.

"Rob and I were just planning to have dinner."

Emilio looked troubled. The next words that came out of his mouth explained why. "Jessica,my sweetheart,I'm sorry, but my restaurant will be closed due to my niece's wedding. I was going to pick up the cake just now." He gestured with his wallet.

I brushed a hand in the air. "It's okay. Rob and I will go somewhere else. We'll be fine." And then I joked, "This is what I get for you spoiling for so much with the no-reservations thing. See?"

Emilio smiled at me and said, "You'd better get going, then. It looks like it's going to pour." And asif on cue, it started to rain.

I thanked Emilio and pulled Rob away from the restaurant.

"I think we should go back to your apartment," Rob suggested.

"Duh," I replied, and ran with Rob in tow towards my apartment.

As quickly as we ran, by the time we got back to my apartment, we were both soaked. See, this is what happens when you live in New York and don't drive your car out very often and hate to take cabs because chances are, the cab driver probably knows you as Lightening Girl—trust me, people's memories are not as bad as you might like to think—and want your autograph or want to kill you because you found their psycho killer friend and put him in jail.

Oh, and the fact that I was wearing my best dress and now it was going to be all rain waterish—which, may I remind you is evaporated sewage, waste water, and other disgusting types of liquid falling back down again—and is going to take a while to get it back to normal didn't help either.

Even though I was upset about my dress, I still had morals and knew it was completely my fault—actually, it was Cecelia's fault too, but whatever—that we were rained out because I didn't check with Emilio so I said to Rob, "I'm sorry about this whole rain thing. Really. Tonight was supposedly to be You and Me at a Romantic Dinner, Talking and Bounding Again. Not You and Me Outside Sprinting in the Freezing Rain."

Rob just smiled down at me and said, "It's okay, because I'm with you."

Why does he always have to know the right thing to say to make me practically melt into a puddle? Why?

"Thank you for understanding. I knew you would." I hugged him and instantly regretted it because by doing that, I ended up getting the two of us into a soggy clingy mess.

Rob laughed and said, "How about we both get dried upand I'll cook us some dinner."

"Okay."

So that's how, ten minutes later, Rob and I were sitting at the kitchen table both enjoying a bowl of fried rice each. Seriously. He is the most perfect guy in the world. He' s hot, he'sclever, he's funny, and he's understanding. Whoever leaves him would be the biggest idiot on the planet.

Oh, wait. That would be me.

"When'd you learn how to cook?" I asked him, spooning a spoonful of rice into my mouth since I have a handicap when it comes to using chopsticks.

But Mr. Perfect's chopsticks skills, on the other hand, are sensational. He ate a chopstick full—for a lack of a better word—of rice off his chopsticks and replied, smirking, "I've always been able to cook, it's just that I'd rather have my mom do it for me."

I snorted. "Lazy ass."

"At least I'm not a restaurateur's daughter who can't cook to save her life," he said, shrugging.

"I can cook…mashed potatoes."

"From the mashed potato power mixture that you got from the grocery store ," he pointed out, earning a kick in the shin from me. He's lucky that I'd taken my shoes off by that point, or else he would have been in a lot more pain than he was then, judging by the way he flinched when I kicked him.

"I should never argue with you. You know me too well," I stated, and rolled by eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. I don't know what's been going on since you moved here," he said, finishing up his rice and asking me if I was done.

"Yeah . . . Here, I'll do the dishes," I said, standing up to take his bowl and empty cup—it was just water, nothing alcoholic, wouldn't want history to repeat itself. Ahem, Mastriani reopening, ahem.

He also stood up, and he took his bowl so that I couldn't reach it. "No, I'll do the dishes, I'm sure you've hada hard day at work."

I put both my hands on my hip—which was something of a feat considering I didn't want to drop the ceramic bowl that I was holding with my right hand. "You were at work, too." Yes, I had faxed over his file the previous night to Lewis's son he loved it so he instantly called Rob over there this morning (a/n: I'm really sorry about this if they can't just hire someone like that without an interview, because I know nothing about the hiring of on-call ophthalmologists.).

Rob gave me one of those half-disgusted and half-amused smiles of his and said, "Mastriani, I'm sure solving crime and looking down someone's eye doesn't take the same about of effort."

"Fine, but at least let me help you," I said, giving up. I know, it's completely unlike me to give up a fight so easily, but with Rob, it actually felt like I was winning. Seriously.

We both walked over to the kitchen sink where Rob started to scrub the dishes while I began rinsing them.

"What've you been up to?" Rob acquired after a few minutes of companionable silence.

I shrugged. "Nothing, really. I mean, my life is pretty much revolved around the FBI. Besidesa few more friends I haven't really changed that much," I thought about this for a moment and added, "Except I did get a tattoo of a heart on my collarbone."

"Oh, really? That's cool," Rob said half-heartedly.

And then I commented, just to tease him, "I'm surprised you didn't see it yesterday."

The result immediately took action because just as I said that, color started creeping up Rob's face until it met his hairline. "Well, I…" Rob tried to explain.

I laughed, satisfied with my results. "It's okay. I like to think that there was something more important to focus on other than my tattoo."

Which just made Rob blush even more. Asunkind as it was, teasing Rob was kinda fun. I mean, the past two days he's been here, it's as if I don't know how to speak to him or act normally around him, and now that I could, it felt really nice.

As Rob picked up the last cup, he asked, "Can I see your tattoo?"

He scrubbed it and handed it to me to rinse. "Sure," I replied, rinsed the cup, put it into the cupboard, and pushed aside the t-shirt that I had changed into a bit at the collar.

Rob looked at it and squinted. "It's really sexy," he murmured.

I was startled. I mean, I knew it looked kind of nice and everything, but sexy? Wow. That, I had never heard used on this little guy. And by this little guy, I meant the heart. Not Rob. Rob was not a little guy.

After I got over my shock, I said, grinning like an freak, "Thank you."

And even though Ihadn't exactlygot tolearn about what he's been up to the last fewyears that we'd been apart,that grin lasted the whole evening.


So, what do you think? I'm sorry about the vagueness of the flashback. It's not that I was trying to make it really short or anything, but I, as a person, do not like to look back at anything, so flashbacks for me are really hard to write.

Oh, and also may I report that I just broke another personal record? This chapter is 4652 words! Yay. Andasyou may have predicted, I am doing another long chapter dance.

And one more thing: Please review. Let's see if we can get 8 reviews for this chapters and bump the number of reviews to an even 30! I will update as soon as I get 5 more reviews, though.

Much Lovies,

Heidi