Author's Note: This chapter gets a little Mish as far as rating goes. Adult situations, but not terribly graphic. So just a heads up. :) I hope you are enjoying this story. :)

December 31, 1973, 9:30 pm

Warren G. Harding Elementary School, the flagpole

"Ah, the scene of the crime."

Thanks to the streetlamp nearby, Schwartz could see Jane despite the dark of the night. She held on to the pole and looked up to where during daylight and on school days, the flag hung. She spun around and laughed. Honestly, he thought he could listen to her laugh all day and all night and never tire of it. "Hey, a dare is not a crime," he said, and grabbed her hand as she started to spin by again. "Flick didn't have to do it."

Jane stopped moving and took his other hand. She smiled up at him. He liked that she was small and that he had to look down at her and she had to look up. Call him old fashioned, but it seemed the natural way of things. And considering he himself wasn't all that tall, it was something.

"Sure he did. How could he say no to a triple dog dare?"

He'd found a perfect restaurant for their New Year's Eve dinner, a quiet little Italian place just outside of downtown. Affordable, too, though just barely. Maybe not as fancy as Jane deserved, maybe not as romantic, although the hostess had given them the most dimly lit table she could, complete with one of those chianti bottles with a candle in it. Jane seemed to like it.

"He could have if he really wanted to." Lie, but he was sure she knew that because he couldn't stop smiling.

"Oh, really? Well, then, I triple dog dare you to stick your tongue to the pole."

"It doesn't count if there aren't any witnesses."

"I'm not a witness?"

"The dare-maker can't be a witness, too."

"Clever." She surprised him by letting go of his hands and wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her body up against his. His breath caught in his throat. "And so convenient. I think you're making it up."

He put his arms around her and wished they weren't outside in the sub-zero temperatures. The thickness of their coats kind of ruined the moment in his view. "Rules are rules!"

She laughed again, and to his chagrin, pulled out of his arms and turned toward their old school. It was shadowy, they really could only see the outline of it. She took a few steps toward it. "I miss it," she said. "I miss being a kid. I wish we hadn't grown up."

He stood next to her. A sadness that he'd felt for a long time, or at been doing his best to drink away, started turning circles in his gut. He wasn't sure he wanted to go all the way back to elementary school, although maybe he did. If he did, he'd have another twenty years with his old man. Another twenty years to figure himself out before it was just about too late. "Yeah. I know. Being an adult…" He shook his head. "Not my favorite thing."

"Although there are some advantages to it."

Her ability to change moods in single-digit seconds impressed him. She gave him a sly smile and took his hand, pulled him back to the flagpole. Again, she put her arms around his waist, and so he returned the favor. He stared down at her.

Cold? What cold? What anything, except this beautiful woman in his arms? In his arms, and looking at him like he'd hung the moon.

"Don't you think so?"

Her lips were the red of strawberries and looked so soft. He tightened his arms around her. His heart pounded. It had been a long time, and he prayed that he still knew what to do. "Yeah," he said. "Like this."

He leaned down and kissed her before he could talk himself out of it. Gently. Slowly. Sweetly. Over and over again, he presses his lips to hers until they both, seemingly of one mind, tilted their heads in opposite direction and open their mouths. He tasted her breath, her tongue, and it was even better than he'd imagined it would be.

He slid his hands up her back, pressed her tighter against his chest. She gave a whimper that died in his mouth, and he gave her a low sigh in return.

Finally, they both pulled apart. He wondered if she could feel him trembling. He wondered if he really felt her trembling the way he thought he did. Either way, it wasn't because of the cold. He stared into her eyes, lost in them. He'd never known how easy it could be to look at someone this way.

"I'm so glad I met you…re-met you, Paul Schwartz," she said, just loud enough for him to hear her.

"Me too, Jane Alberry," he said. He smiled. "Can I call you Janey?"

Her smile broadens. "Definitely."

"Good."

They looked at each other. Just stood there in the cold, in the moment, looking at each other. She seemed to have trouble finding words. And for his part, he couldn't find them, either.

Finally, she managed. "Do you want to head to Flick's? Or…"

The way she tilted her head, and the way her tongue darted out over her lips, sent a shocking thrill up and down his body. And settled down in one particular place. "Or…"

"Or…we could pick up a bottle of champagne and go back to my room."

Back to her room. Back to her room. His mind, his pulse, his blood all raced.

They could go to Flick's or go back to her room.

Yeah. No real contest.

"Let's go back to your room," he said. He kissed her again, a little harder this time, and pulled back with what he hoped was a sexy smirk. "Hell of a way to ring in the New Year, yeah?"

She laughed. "A very adult way, I'd say."

He kissed her again.

Happy New Year, Paul Schwartz!

January 1, 1974, 10 am

Holiday Inn, Room 213

He slept soundly, Jane thought, as she lay on her side and watched Paul. He was on his back, his arm underneath her waist, and his head rolled toward her on his pillow. He looked so young with his eyes closed, and his bare chest rose and fell gently with his steady breath. She supposed she ought to feel regret.

She didn't.

He'd been so sweet. So tender. Hesitant, even a little clumsy at first, just like she was. She thought of how he looked at her just before, at how he whispered to her, how he'd asked her if she was sure, how he'd smiled when she'd said yes then asked him the same question. Even now, twelve hours removed from the moment, she could hear the slight hoarseness of his voice. "I've never been more sure of anything," he'd said, just before brushing his lips over his and moving on to her neck. He'd whispered her name in her ear, and she remembered how she'd shivered in delight.

And then, oh, how it had felt. So wonderful. So true. So absolutely right. Like it had never felt before. Like something brand new. And, she realized, it was. Because Paul, unlike Ken, cared about her.

Of course, he didn't know everything about her.

She closed her eyes.

If he did, would he still feel the way he did? Would he still want her with all the baggage and potential trouble she carried with her? She wanted to believe he would, but something Ken said to her on a regular basis now echoed in her head.

You think you know everything, don't you, Esther Jane? Just because you have that fancy degree, right? You're the smartest person in the world, right? Well, you're not. You're stupid, Esther. Stupid. Stupid. So damned stupid. Stupid. Do you hear me? Stupid.

And every "stupid" was punctuated with a slap, or a punch to her belly, or a twist of her arm, or anything that hurt her without leaving a mark that could be seen.

The phone rang, making her jump. Her heart stopped dead in her chest. All she could do was stare at the offending thing.

Who had this number? Who knew she was here?

Had he found her?

Oh, God, had he found her?

"Not looking for me," Paul mumbled, and turned his face away from her. He pulled his arm out from under her and rolled completely away, turning his back on her with a groan. She smiled. He must be dreaming about being at Flick's and the phone calls that instantly shut up all those folks who were hiding from something or someone.

She sat up, reached over to the nightstand, and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

No one answered. She thought she heard breathing, but it could very well be her own as sharply and raggedly as it was coming.

"Hello?"

She heard the rustling of the sheets and glanced back to find that Paul had turned back over, awake and eyes open, and looked up at her.

"Hello?"

Again, nothing, and she hung the receiver back in the cradle. "Wrong number, I guess."

Either that, or someone who was just checking. Damn it. She shouldn't have answered. Shouldn't have spoken. Ken certainly knew her voice.

"Come back to bed." Paul looked up at her with sleepy eyes. His voice was lower than normal, gruffer than usual.

"I haven't gotten out of bed." Odd, how free she felt. The covers lay on her lap, leaving her totally exposed, and yet, she didn't care. She didn't worry. In fact, the way Paul was looking at her felt so good. He looked at her like she was something beautiful.

"You're not really in bed if you're sitting up."

"Oh, I see." She lay back down on her side to face him. His arms encircled her, her chest pressed up against his, their noses and chins just a few inches apart. "Better?"

"Much."

He kissed her, and she pushed down the nagging fear hovering around her heart. She'd never been kissed the way he kissed her, in such a natural and delicious way that made her feel like they'd been destined to kiss each other this way.

What a slut you are, Esther Jane. What a god damn slut. Sleeping with a guy you've known for what, three days?

She pulled back. Paul frowned, his hand running gently up and down her back. "What's wrong?"

"Just…" She closed her eyes, held them that way for a moment, then opened them again. "Do you think I'm a slut?"

For a moment, she couldn't tell if he'd heard her. He just stared at her, and his expression didn't change at all.

"Why would I think that?"

"Because…I mean, I suggested this." Threw herself at him, more accurately.

"I didn't have any problem with that whatsoever, Janey."

"Maybe you do now in the light of day."

"No. I don't." He breathed in sharply and frowned. "Do you? I mean, do you regret it? In the light of day?"

"No." She smiled. Something so tender about him, so vulnerable even though he wanted desperately to hide it. She touched his cheek. "No. I don't regret it at all. It's just, it's different for you. Because you're a man. Men are supposed to want…this."

He smiled, just slightly. "Sure. From women who want it, too." His smile faded. "You know what I think you are? I think you're someone who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it." He gives a quiet snort. "Unlike some men. Unlike me." He kissed her, just for a slight moment. "I like that about you. A lot."

"You're not just saying that because I'm naked, are you?"

He chuckled. "No." He looked into her eyes as if it wasn't any sort of struggle, as if he had no secrets, and Jane figured he probably didn't. His smile disappeared, and there was that serious, genuine look on his face again. "I've never met anyone like you, Janey. I'm damn lucky you even gave me the time of day, let alone this."

Her eyes stung with the threat of tears. Something deep inside of him, this sweet man, wasn't quite broken but was bent enough he couldn't see his own worth. "Paul," she whispered, and reached her hand up to stroke his cheek. "You have no idea what you've done for me. What you are doing for me." She kissed him, and his arms tightened around her. She could feel her heart start to beat harder. She could feel his heart start to beat harder.

He whispered just above her lips. "What am I doing for you now?" His hands ran slowly up and down her back.

He kissed her again, long and deep enough to take her breath away, and when he pulled back, she struggled to flicker open her eyes. "Oh, I think you know," she said. She ran her hand down his neck and to his chest. "And you should keep doing it."

"Mmm." He kissed her. "With pleasure."

She laughed as he rolled her over to her back, but he kissed her again, and she lost awareness of anything else except him.