Author's note: I don't own Coose but I love them, as always. The classic best friend becoming more always gets me.

I'm sorry I haven't been updating more frequently. School's insane as per usual, and I couldn't find any time to write this one, but thanks to a lazyyyy weekend, I was able to! Enjoy it! Reviews as always, are much loved and appreciated.

1 year, 2 months, 15 days, 20 hours and 4 minutes

He comes home, tired out from a long day at the studio again. Today however, he is exceptionally tired- he blames it on the three hours of sleep he got last night.

He can't stop thinking about her. Maybe he's just a huge coward, but he'll never admit to anyone that he spent the whole of last night just psyching himself up to dial the first few numbers, and then putting down, the dial tone taunting him even as he put down the phone slowly. What if she doesn't care? What if she hates him still? What if, God forbid, she's found someone else?

Please God don't let it be that she's found someone else.

He dumps his keys haphazardly onto the side table and kicks off his well battered shoes, picking up the mail that he'd abandoned there for a few days and he rifles through it, before reaching for the package that sits beside it. He shakes it. No tell-tale rattles that suggest a batch of cookies from his mom, so this can't be a care package. Unless its underwear. It happened once, and the thought of his underwear travelling through the US postal system? Not cool. He hopes it hasn't happened again.

He pads into the living room, flops down on the sofa even as he pulls his beanie off, making his hair more ruffled than it already is and looks at the writing. Nope, definitely not his parents. Definitely not her too. He bites his lip and tries to ignore the stab of disappointment that he suddenly feels, ripping off the paper quickly and efficiently. It is a white box and even as he lifts the lid of the box up, he sees…

A hat. A grey fedora, that looks strangely familiar, and yet who would send him a hat?

He lifts it out of the box and just like that, click, the memories rush back to him. Of them both, in the streets of New York, dancing as if their lives depended on it, her as light as a feather, popping beside him, the laughter, the joy, the craziness, all weaved together in this one little hat and his breath catches in his throat even as he holds the hat in his hands and a letter drops out.

He opens it shakily, reading the cramped, unfamiliar writing. It is from Jacob. The Pirates have been spring cleaning- surprise, surprise, even they can't keep living in that squalor they call the Vault and Jacob forced them to either way. They found this and thought he might want it back. Best wishes, visit soon, and keep practicing, cause if not, he won't be good enough to be a Pirate anymore. Normal, to the point- that's Jacob all the way. He laughs, folds up the letter and he is surprised to find that he really, really misses them. Not just her, but the Pirates, his friends, his crew. Has it really been that long?

He folds up the letter then, putting it to the side and he picks up the hat then. God, he misses her.

He tries on the hat just for kicks; only strangely there is something inside it, some paper thing stuck in the inner hat band. And he pulls out, that photo-postcard from his mom from years back. He looks at the photo, for what seems like the longest time. His insane puzzled expression ("Wow, classic." He remembers her teasing laughter.) Her genuine smile of pleasure in the shot. The way his hand rests on her shoulder and the lack of a gap between their bodies. But mostly he looks at her. He has not seen her for a year. He wonders briefly if her hair is still shoulder-length long, if she still wears glasses when doing her work, if she still smells like strawberries and apples, if her dancing is still as kick ass as it was when he left. If she still loves him. If she misses him.

And then it becomes all too clear to him and he stands, moving over to the phone and even as he dials in the numbers, he is still staring at that moment of them, captured in this photograph and he hopes, it's not too late to catch more of them.

1 year, 2 months, 16 days, 10 hours and 53 minutes

It is not a date, she tells herself to calm the butterflies in her stomach. It is just a friendly outing.

The problem is she hopes he knows that too.

She checks her outfit one last time; she'd taken the extra care to wear jeans, just so it would show it wasn't a formal date, just a friendly outing, as advised by her flatmate. A simple yellow tunic and some flats and her hair up in a loose ponytail. Perfect. It suggests friendly, but I'm not into you. And satisfied that she's sending the right signals, hopefully, she grabs her bag and flies out the door.

Hitting the sidewalk, she can't help but feel guilt, God, what if he was here and he saw her out with another guy? Not that when they were together, she never went out with any other guys alone, but they'd been rare and he'd always taken great care to pick her up after the outing, his arm around her waist in an unusually tight grip (not that she'd hated it, she thought it was kind of cute). Yet she feels, a strange sense of longing. She wishes that it was him, who was taking her out to watch old films on a Saturday morning instead of Joash.

She'd always known that Joash had had a thing for her for the longest time, but because she had Moose, obviously anything was out of the picture and she'd really appreciated how he kept their interactions to a minimum for his sake and how he always made an effort to greet her and Moose when he picked her up after work. He was a gentleman. And after Moose had left, he hadn't tried anything on with her at all, which she was so glad for, and had even helped her through Moose's leaving. They were good friends, but he would never attain best friend status like Moose.

Yet finally, he'd still asked her out and she'd agreed, but not before ascertaining that it was only a friendly outing between two friends. (The flash of disappointment in his eyes caused her to feel a sense of relief.)

She wonders why she'd done that though. She still loves him, so much, sometimes, it's just… difficult. Makes getting up, going through each day, through each up and down, alone… difficult. Yet, since they were over, perhaps it was time for her to move on. But the thought was just horrifying and repulsing even if she simply thought it in her head. She couldn't. She couldn't imagine a life whereby she was with this other faceless dude, and Moose stood on the fringe as her best friend, but not really her best friend too. She shudders, to herself. She'll think about it soon. Just… not now.

She spots Joash standing outside the theatre, looking around, waiting for her. He looks nice, tall in a moss green sweater and jeans and again she's struck by how totally different he is from Moose who lives in his berms and sneakers and hoodies. He smiles when he sees her, "Hey Camille."

"Sorry I'm late." She apologizes briefly before relieving him of the popcorn that he's holding in his hands.

"No, you're on time." He checks his watch quickly. "In fact, we're early. Shall we go in and take a seat first?"

She nods, and follows him into the theatre. It's a refurbished one which shows classically restored old films and she can't wait to be able to watch Singing In The Rain in the theatre itself, which happens to be playing today. They enter the dark theatre and take their seats, even as the last parts of the movie before them continue to play out in black and white in front of them and she looks around, noting how the theatre seems to be quite empty and she settles into her seat and focuses her attention on the screen in front of them.

She doesn't recognize the movie- she only likes a select few of them, but she eats some popcorn and watches idly, knowing that it's going to come to a close. The figures on screen, a man dapper in a tuxedo and the woman in a dark wine colored dress- at least that's what she assumes since its in black and white and she turns slightly to smile at Joash who returns her smile in the glow of the screen.

And suddenly the band onscreen breaks out into a very familiar song, jazzy, full of life and she looks up at the screen.

Fred Astaire, she recognizes him vaguely is now dancing enthusiastically with this woman, Ginger Rogers, she thinks. They smile together at each other, and the strains of the song are all too familiar for her to ignore and for that moment, she thinks she's eaten too much popcorn, she can't breathe, it can't be possible, but it is happening, its playing out before her very eyes. She watches as the band stops briefly for them both to tap dance together in a way that reminds her so much of the both of them pounding down the streets of New York that day and her eyes fill inexplicably. What is this? Why is she crying? She sniffs, tries to blink away the tears and watches as Fred and Ginger dance up the steps together again, they smile at each other lovingly, carelessly onstage and then the both of them embrace and she cannot stop the tears now. She misses him, so much it hurts and for now, everything, the fight, where he is- all these dont matter anymore.

She knows quite well Joash is staring at her and she knows she needs to think of a reason to give to him, she needs to apologize, she needs to stop crying. But she also knows this.

She needs to go to Philadelphia. Now.

What did you think? REVIEW.