Jackie entered Eric's apartment with the key he gave her, kicking off black four-inch sling-backs and nearly groaning in pleasure as she flexed her toes. She struggled with the armload of work she had brought home from the studio, hefting the straps of her purse higher up her shoulder as she made her way to the dining table to deposit her load.

The place was empty, and quiet, and a small smile of pride crossed her face when she looked down at the cover of the proposal she had worked hard on and submitted to the Head of Department at Global Affairs a few weeks ago, now back in her hands again with a yellow Post-It and the words "Approved" and "Put in Action" scribbled across it. She hugged it to her chest, a feeling of satisfaction and affirmation surging through her body, feeling one step closer to the promotion she had been working so hard to get.

Shrugging off her jacket, her ears pricked at the faint sounds of running water somewhere in the apartment and she found herself wandering off in that direction.

She found Eric in the shower, head bent and darkened with water, with his palms pressed against the wall. Veins traveled up the length of his tanned arms and water rained down over the corded profile of his body. For a long moment she simply watched him, leaning against the door and drinking in the sight of him.

He turned his head towards her when she made a small noise, pushing his hair back and stepping back from the water.

They stared at each other in heavy silence, with the sound of running water, and that of their hearts beating between them, until her feet took her forward towards him and she reached up to curl her hand around the back of his neck.

Her eyes caressed his face, memorizing every line and every feature, and the exact shade of his eyes.

He broke the silence first.

"Ask me to stay," he said in a gravelly whisper.

Please Steven, ask me to stay. Choose me. An echo of words long past brought forth again with his. An ultimatum she had given one man then, an ultimatum she would never give with this man now.

She brushed a wet lock of his hair back from his forehead, the backs of her fingers tracing a gentle path down his cheek. The spray of water from the overhead shower created droplets that clung to the black of her hair. Her other hand came up to frame his face, and she closed her eyes and raised on her toes, kissing him tenderly.

With her lips against his, she murmured, "I won't do that to you. I'll never do that to you."

Opening her eyes, she looked into his. "Ask you to choose," she said, even though a part of her was dying at the thought of a loss soon to come. But it was not like that between her and Eric. It had never been like that between them. What existed between them was giving, was selfless; love, in its purest form, as it was meant to be.

And Jackie knew, that if she said it back, he would move mountains to be by her side; he would give everything he held dear, just to stay with her in Point Place, for her career, for her ambitions.

He would give up his soul, just for her dreams.

She stared into eyes she loved so much, into a face she knew would haunt her dreams, into a man she knew she could spend the rest of her life searching for and never find anyone close to compare.

Her mouth opened, started to form around the words of a feeling so intense, so strong, so consuming, and then closed again. She kissed him, a half-sob rising in her throat, and felt him respond, and with one arm he hauled her about the waist and up towards him, slanting his mouth over hers.

"Make love to me, Eric," she whispered instead. "Love me."

So he did, with water raining down over both of them, just like that night in a far-off land, amidst stormy skies; that night when they had their first kiss.

The weeks flew by, quicker than any of them would have liked, but even with the warming satisfaction of Jackie beside him, he could feel the yearn for the vastness and inexorable pull of Africa in his heart. He tugged her along as he navigated his way past the shops, her laughter infectious and adding to the beauty of an already lovely day.

"Slow down, Eric, I can't keep up," she panted at his side, eyes glowing merrily as they hurried towards the store right at the end of the street that Eric had zeroed in on. "They're not gonna run out of balloons if we get there thirty seconds slower than expected."

He gave her spiked footwear a disgusted glance, and she caught the words "stupid" and "shoes" under his breath.

Mortally offended, she dug in her heels suddenly and he nearly lost his balance when she yanked hard on his hand to stop him too. "I heard that," she huffed in mock anger.

"Yeah, well, baby, I'm gonna be late," he pleaded, with desperate eyes towards the end of the street where a small group had already gathered.

"It's a balloon sculpturing demonstration, you're not gonna miss out on much if you miss the first ten seconds of it."

He squinted at her. "I take this seriously."

"Say you love my shoes."

His eyes narrowed further. "That would be a lie."

She smirked and shifted her weight to one hip. Cocking her head to the side, she twirled a lock of hair around a finger and batted her lashes at him. With a pout full of her special blend of sensual innocence, she purred, "Really. Even if I'm wearing only them and nothing else?"

His eyes brightened and suddenly he saw her shoes in a new light. "I adore them, never take them off."

She nodded primly, hugely satisfied. He watched in confusion as she clutched his arm for support, wobbling dangerously as she leant down to pull off one heel and then the other.

They dangled in her hand as she took off in a run, barefooted down the street.

"C'mon," she called over her shoulder at him, "you'll miss the class! Don't want Masego and the rest to be disappointed when you head back with a truck load of balloons and no idea how to fancy them up."

He stared after her, and a grin nearly split his face as he started a slow jog, and then broke out into a full run as he chased after her petite form; light and lithe and running down the street.

"Hey, Pumpkin, you okay?" Bob asked as he pushed the door to Donna's room slowly open. He saw her lying on her bed, facing the ceiling. "I brought you some soup."

She ignored him, and continued to stare blankly upwards.

He sighed. "I'm just gonna leave it here then." He hesitated, turning to her. "Sweetie, uh, Randy came by again today."

Donna made no response.

"He…," Bob started, and then gave up. "Soup's over here," he said instead, and then turned to leave. "Just uh, call if you need anything, okay?"

The door to her room was nearly completely closed before he heard her call out softly. "Dad… next time Randy comes by… Send him up okay?"