Everything was absolutely, completely and utterly wrong… and nothing had ever felt so right in his life. She had turned his entire existence so entirely upside down that he had no idea what was top from bottom. Nothing was the same.

He felt a little crazy.

He felt completely un-cool.

He feltalive.

Everything was different, and he never wanted to go back to the way it had been. He had no idea where it was going or what would happen next, but he wasn't afraid; because when he looked into her eyes… when he looked into her eyes he saw hope, he saw life; he thought maybe he could see forever…

How could that not scare the hell out of him?

It didn't though. He might not know exactly how or when it happened, but he knew one thing for certain…

He was completely, head over heels, one hundred percent in love with Tracy Turnblad.

-

He left his house in a rush with no plan whatsoever and ended up driving around aimlessly trying to find her. After at least an hour he realized he had no idea where to look and ended up pulling up to the curb outside her house. He knew which one it was because he had driven her home once. He remembered watching her walk up the scrubbed steps with a happy bounce in her step. What an idiot he'd been not to realize then that he was falling for her.

The idea of showing up on her doorstep unannounced had him feeling uneasy, but no more so than the idea of going home to wait alone, not knowing when, or if he'd get news of her… Who'd even think to call him and tell him she was alright, or, and he hated to even think it, not alright?

Once he had made it to the front door, Mrs. Turnblad's large but gentle hand on his shoulder was almost instantly comforting, even though he'd be surprised when she'd invited him in. He hadn't been sure of the reception he'd receive after what had happened at the record store but she seemed happy to have him to fuss over.

He had even managed to eat some of the delicious smelling pork she had made; despite the fact that his stomach was knotted with concern, twisted with nervous excitement over his new realizations and that he was loathe to lose the lingering taste of the Baby Ruth he'd taken from Tracy's room. He apologized for not being able to eat much and Tracy's mother smiled sympathetically and nodded that he could be excused. He carried his dishes into the small kitchen and when he saw Mr. Turnblad filling the sink to wash, he found himself offering to help. Anything to keep his mind off his worry over Tracy.

He and Mr. Turnblad washed for several moments with only sound of the soapy water sloshing in the sink and the clink of the dishes to keep them company, and then Tracy's dad spoke, his words tentative and careful. "You know, my little girl is a very strong and resourceful person," he said, his cadence oddly off beat. Link nodded as he slowly pulled the dish towel off his shoulders and wiped his hands on it.

"I know," he replied.

"That is to say," the older man made direct eye contact with him and Link had the distinct feeling he should listen carefully. "She'll be alright."

"I hope so, sir," Link said. "Whatever happens… I'm going to be here for her from now on."

Mr. Turnblad smiled. "That's good to know."

They turned back to their task and as Link accepted a chipped, rose patterned piece of china, Mr. Turnblad asked him about the being on the Corny Collins show and other aspects of his life and career. He was surprised by the man's willingness to talk to him as if his opinions and decisions mattered, not dismissing him as some immature child who didn't know left from right. They fell into a comfortable conversation and soon they were putting clean and dry dishes away in the crowded cabinets. The sound of the phone ringing halted them mid motion and Link found Mr. Turnblad's eyes on him with a look of concern that echoed the tight feeling in his chest. They hurried out to the living room together when Mrs. Turnblad has called out.

Link stood quietly in the background as Mr. Turnblad was handed the phone. He ran the damp towel through his fist several times as he listened to one side of the conversation, his blues eyes focused intently on the back of Mr. Turnblad's head.

"Tracy, hold on a minute…" Mr. Turnblad was saying into the receiver. "Yes Hun, I understand but… Hmm… She hung up."

"She hung up on you?" Mrs. Turnblad said in disbelief, "It's not like our Tracy to be rude."

"I don't think she meant to be rude, Hun, I just think she was in a bit of a rush. Our girl's got something up her sleeve!" he said the last part rather proudly, rocking forward on the balls of his feet. Tracy's mother worried at her fingernails.

"Oh, she's got some wacky plan in her head… I'm so worried. What if she…"

"Doll!" Mr. Turnblad said softly. "We're gonna be there to help her. Somehow this will all work out, you'll see."

She nodded, trying to smile at her husband and then her eyes drifted to Link. "Oh, Link! I'm sorry dear I forgot you were still here… I've just been so frazzled."

"Um, it's alright," Link said slowly. There was a terrible lump in his throat and his heart was pounding a mile a minute. The rush he had felt when he was standing in her room, foolishly confessing his love to her picture came roaring back and for a moment; all other thoughts and words were lost to him. "Tracy…"

"She's alright," Mrs. Turnblad said, assuming that was what he'd intended to ask. "She's with Miss Maybelle and …"

Link didn't really hear anything else she said after that because he had already started moving to the door. "Thank you," he called. "For taking me in and for the food Mrs. Turnblad, it was amazing."

He flew down the steps and leapt into his car, not even bothering to open the door. He laughed out loud as he started the engine and pulled out into the street, the lights from the patrolling police car reflecting for a moment in his rearview mirror. Yeah, he was a little bit crazy but he didn't really care.

He didn't remember the drive from her house to the record store. He'd been so caught up thinking about her and all he had to tell her and about everything that had happened, next thing he knew he was banging on the door to Motormouth Records and being yanked inside by a startled, but apparently quick witted Seaweed.

Link stumbled into the dimly lit room and was surprised by the large group of kids gathered there. All of them were talking and planning together, and he felt awkward and out of place amidst what looked like some sort of meeting. Then he spotted Tracy, her eyes wide with surprise at the sight of him and all other thoughts or worries had fled. Her hair had gone flat and she looked so tired but determined… good God, she was beautiful.

"Link, what are you doing here?" she exclaimed, taking a step in his direction then stopping uncertainly.

"Trace, I had to talk to you," he blurted out, hurrying towards her. "I'm so sorry about yesterday and about today, too. I…" All his words were coming out in a chaotic rush. He pressed a hand to his forehead as if to somehow slow things down. Where had all his cool detachment gone when he needed it? Tracy, however, managed a bit of her own cool and grabbed his hand, dragging him out through the back and into the alley.

"Link, it's fine; I'm not mad at you," she said turning to him immediately after the door closed behind them. "I know that you're a man and you're gonna put your career first… I'm not mad."

"What? That's ridiculous, and it's not just about you being mad. I want you to know that I know I was wrong. I should've come with you, big break or no big break. I was a selfish jerk, and what I said… I really didn't mean it that way; I'd never want to hurt you… mm." She pressed a finger against his lips, halting his rambling speech. He looked down and saw her grinning widely.

"All that is behind us now, right?" she said. "You can't change it and neither can I. But you're here now aren't you?"

"Yeah, yeah I am," he answered, smiling back at her once she had removed her finger from his lips. He watched her hand as it fell to her side and fought the urge to reach out and take it in his. "So what are you going to do about the pageant?" he asked. "You're ma said you had some wacky plan. How can I help?"

"My ma?"

"Oh," he cleared his throat, right… "Yeah, I was… um, pretty worried when I saw you on the news and I … ah, went to your house to see if you were okay…"

"You were worried about me?"

"Well, yeah baby doll. They were saying all kinds of things I knew couldn't be true, and I was feeling pretty guilty. God Trace, I should'a been there with you. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

She smiled softly, swaying slightly with her words. "It's alright, I already told you… but thank you for worrying." He was all caught up in the look on her face, all humble kindness and sweetness that just wrapped around his heart and wouldn't let go.

"So," he said, clearing his throat and trying to grin, "tell me about this plan." They'd been moving closer, bit by bit, during their conversation; and not for the first time, he marveled at how easy it was to be with her, no taunts, no demands, no constant second guessing.

"Well, we pretty much have the whole thing worked out…" she looked away momentarily distracted by her thoughts. He watched her small, manicured finger tap thoughtfully at her lower lip. "Except how to get Skillet and Seaweed into the props room before the show…"

"You mean you need something like…" he reached in his pocket and pulled out his keys, looking quickly for the correct one, "this, perhaps?"

"You have a key to the props room?" she asked with surprise, taking the offered object and working it off his key ring. "How did you get a key to the props room? Why do you have a key to the props room?"

"Hey Doll, c'mon, a cat can't give out all his secrets," he said, not wanting to answer either of those questions at the moment. "Now tell me how else I can help."

"Don't you worry about anything else, alright? Tomorrow I just want you go out there and do your thing for those agents, Link. Forget about all this and just know I'll be there cheering you on."

"I'm not so sure I can do that, Trace," he said, grinning at her because he couldn't help it. Even though she was hiding out and wanted by the police; she was smiling and she had a plan, and she simply amazed him. "You've pretty much been all I could think about for sometime now, baby. I'm not sure I'll be able to focus much on performing."

This confession took her by surprise he noticed, and his heart thumped a little harder. Good to know he could affect her too... "What?" she asked softly, and those eyes of hers were staring into him again.

"I haven't even told you what I came here to tell ya, Trace," he said, stepping closer, his face serious. She had to tip her head back a bit farther to look up at him. He reached out a hand and caressed her cheek and her breath audibly hitched in her chest, but she didn't pull away. His gaze fell to her lips as his thumb brushed that sweet, pink bow; finding it even softer than his imagination had conjured. "I think, I… Trace, I'm completely crazy about you."

"You are?" she asked, sounding surprised and pleased. She raised her hand, placing it over his, and her response gave him courage.

"Oh yeah, I've got it pretty bad. In fact," he took a deep breath and looked right in those brown eyes of hers, where the sun rose and set, where life suddenly made perfect sense and none at all. "I think I'm in love with you, Tracy Turnblad."

"Link…" she whispered and he bent forward to kiss her, watching and waiting for her approval or rejection. She leaned toward him and his heart sang as her very presence seemed to invade all of his senses.

The back door of the record shop banged open rather loudly, breaking the moment before their lips made contact, and they jerked back from each other to spin around and see who had witnessed their little moment.

"I think, perhaps our little fugitive ought'a come back inside where she's less likely to be spotted," Miss Maybelle said, leaning casually against the door jam and giving them a knowing grin. "Link, you should probably be getting home. It's late and tomorrow is a big day."

"She's right, you should get some sleep. I want you to do your best. I wouldn't want you to blow your shot because of me." Tracy said, looking up at him.

He frowned, "Trace…" but she didn't let him finish. She just threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly and he hugged her back, wanting somehow to put all the life and empowerment she had given him into that hug for her to take with her; while at the same time memorizing the sweet way she smelled and the way she felt, soft and curvy, pressed so tightly against him. He wanted to have that memory to carry him through until he saw her again.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said near his ear and her voice seemed to touch something deep inside of him. He swallowed hard, not wanting to let her go.

"I'll be waiting," he answered and she pulled away slowly.

He watched as she disappeared back into the record shop, his hands slipping helplessly into his pockets. He turned and walked the short distance back to his car, climbing in and turning the ignition. She hadn't returned his sentiment, but he thought, strangely, he was okay with that for now. He knew she had some positive feelings, he'd seen her room and he was pretty sure she wouldn't have let him almost kiss her just now if she loathed him. But he had selfishly abandoned her yesterday, and hurt her… he had kept himself hidden until tonight, and he couldn't expect her to love him if he didn't let her really know who he was.

That was something he was going to have to change.

What lay in front of him wasn't easy. He still had so much to deal with and understand, but he would do it, he'd push through. He would do whatever it took to be the man that Tracy Turnblad could love in return.

The End

epilogue follows