A/N: I just came back from the best weekend of my life, witnessed some musical history and haven't slept in a bed for 3 days r eaten a proper meal. I'm a bit shakey (y). But however, I bring you, my lovely readers a promised chapter because of your wonderful reviews. Because even though I said 10, my absence left me with 24 for the last chapter. So thank you very much...

Ok...

Question: Elvis or Frank Sinatra or both?

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THIS CHAPTER: Three words to describe it (because that's all I can manage, and they're quite rubbish): CONTEMPLATIVE, FLASHBACK, COMFORT.

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Chapter 34 - Her One Phone Call (January 30th, 2008)

When Nick didn't sleep in her bed with her, she soon realised, she couldn't get to sleep. If she did get to sleep, she only had bad dreams, dominated by images of her past and of everything bad that she was afraid of. She had tried, of course; wondered how easy it would be to get to his room down the hall and ask him if she could bunk with him, just for one night. She had wandered the hallways aimlessly for hours every night, toying with the need to just sleep beside him in order to feel safe. She had been glad that the floorboards in his house didn't creak. She hadn't been caught, quickly moving back into her room if she even heard the slightest sound of someone about to wake up. But she had just wandered so stupidly around the house, trying to fight off bad dreams and the constant fear of losing everything that she couldn't shake off.

It had been a week since they'd almost kissed, a week since Joe and Mandy had joined their ranks of being bored and useless as they waited and waited for something to happen, just something that would give them a sign. It had been a week since she'd had a full nights sleep, taking the random nap when in the middle of the day when she was sat on the couch beside Nick watching TV as her main source of restoration. It had been a week of non-stop dreams and remembrances of how terrible her life was, from the moment she had yelled at Justin to the day her father had shouted at her. Her mind was playing out the echoes of her life in dreams, the screams still there in her ears when she woke up; their screams, shouts and the awful moments they had inflicted on her that were ruining her life.

She couldn't shake them, she couldn't stop them. She knew there had to be a purpose for them, because their was a purpose for everything. She knew that there had to be some reason that she was having these dreams, and that reason was more than likely to push her to do right in her life, to fix everything and make it better. But they made her unable to sleep. The dreams made her afraid. The dreams made her scared of what she had become, and what she may continue to become. She wanted her old life back and she wanted her old friends back, but she was afraid and terrified of doing anything, just because she was scared that she wouldn't be able - wouldn't be strong enough - to make it better and instead only worse.

January 30th, 2008, Midnight - Florida

"Fine! Take it away! I don't need it! It's just a stupid cellphone!" she screamed as she faced her parents in the hotel room, watching them carefully as they both continued to yell at her about her attitude and the secluded person she had become.

"I swear to God as my witness Miley Ray, if you don't stop this silliness and stupidity I will ground you for the rest of your life!" her father said, as her mother screamed like a blur in the background, the pair of them layering each other as they both pointed their sound in her direction.

"You've got to stop being so disrespectful, young lady!" her mother said as she clutched Miley's cellphone in her hand, "This is a privilege! Do you understand that!? Having this phone is a privilege, not a necessity! So stop acting like you deserve the whole world when you don't! You're just one person!"

"I know, Mom! I know! So stop yelling at me and just punish me already!"

Her father's face almost exploded, "It's not about punishing you, Miley! It's about you learning! So no! We're not going to punish you, we're going to show you what it's like without the privilege!" he yanked the phone from her mother's hand, "This isn't yours for two weeks! Let's see if you learn to respect and accept that sometimes you can't always get what you want!"

She scoffed, "That's not fair! I need that phone to talk to people!"

He shook his head; her mother's expression stayed firm looking at her, arms crossed.

"No you don't, and that's the point." he waved it in front of her face for a moment before slipping it into his pocket, "You can have it back in two weeks. Not a second before. Now go to bed."

She shook her head, irritated and claustrophobic, "I'm going for a walk."

He watched her as she strode across the room, grabbing her sweatshirt and opening the door. He frowned, Tish at his heels as Miley searched for a key, failing and giving up quickly, before opening the door.

"It's almost midnight... get in here and go to bed."

She shook her head and began walking down the hall, "No. I'm going for a walk."

She heard their arguments and their continued questions as she continued to wander down the hallway to the staircase, avoiding the elevator. She ignored them however, and just continued in the same numb fashion she'd been wandering around in for the past three weeks, and attempted to find some kind of direction.

*

She hadn't realised before leaving the hotel that it was foggy and cold on the streets of Jacksonville, Florida. She hadn't realised the buckets of water that would fall down on her and soak her wet to the skin with clear acidic rain that she could taste on her tongue. She could feel the second batch of hair dye she'd put into her hair only the day before dripping down the back of her neck in the fury of the rain, running onto the edges of her cheeks as she wiped it away angrily with the wet sleeves of her sweatshirt, trying to hide it with the hood that covered her face from any seeing eyes.

She had planned to somehow find Mandy and talk to her once she'd left the hotel, stupidly planned to call her once she was outside before realising that she didn't have a phone to call her with. She'd searched the parking lot filled with tour buses to see if there was anyone hanging around who could help her, but there was no one, not even the dancer's bus. She assumed instantly that they hadn't made it there yet having one of the more steady going drivers who liked to take things chill. It made her angry. Her plan had failed before it had even been tested.

So instead she had wandered along the streets of the small town they were staying that was half empty because of the rain and the late - or what some may have called early- hour. She felt free as she was able to wander along a sidewalk without everyone watching; she was able to take in the sights of everything she saw because there was no one in the way obscuring her view. She was able to contemplate her life and realise how screwed up it was now that there was one person missing from it.

Her hand toyed on the receiver of the payphone, her few lowly quarters she had in the back of her jeans rolling around in her hand as she tried to think of someone she could call who wouldn't judge her. But all of her numbers were stored to her phone, all of them. She couldn't remember that many cellphone numbers, she hadn't needed to; not since she'd started out working. There was only one number that she could remember, only one number that she could recite off by heart, just because it was the only one she'd been stupid and childish enough to remember... other than her own. She'd compared their two phone numbers... been stupid enough to think that having the same digits somehow meant that they were perfect for each other. It seemed stupid now that she had realised there were more important things she needed to consider.

But she was desperate, and she needed somebody, somebody who made her feel normal again, like she was understood. She needed the boy who she had fallen in love with and she was sure that he was hiding somewhere in the boy that had broken her heart. She was sure that she could find him, coax him out and just listen to him speak, get him to tell her that everything was okay. Even if it did make her look pathetic.

She waited, punching in the numbers and putting in her quarters as she waited for the phone to ring. She waited, the feeling of tears bubbling in her gut making her feel nauseous. She covered her eyes with her hand for a moment as she pressed the receiver to her ear, trying her best not to get grossed out or concerned about the stickiness that covered the plastic. She tried to calm herself and make sure that she was okay with this, that she was prepared to hear his voice. She hadn't gone this long without hearing his voice since the moment she'd met him. That first phone call they'd shared had been until the early hours of the morning and their conversations hadn't stopped for more than twelve hours at a time since that moment. It felt strange that it had been this long, and even stranger that she would at some point probably go longer than three weeks without talking to him. She tried not to ponder the thought as she waited, breathing heavy, eyes pricking with tears, just urging him to pick up.

"Hello?"

His voice was heavy with sleep and she felt guilty instantly. She shook her head, and before she knew it, she was silently sobbing, leaving him hanging on the line with just her breathy sobs to inform him that she was their at the other end of it.

"Miley?" She could hear the wavering confusion in his voice, but there was no doubt that it was her. He knew she was calling him just from the sound of her crying.

She shook her head and wiped her eyes, curling herself around the payphone as she heard the sound of voices somewhere nearby through the heavy rain and the oncoming of the thunder and lightening.

"Hey..." she breathed, wiping her eyes and hiccupping, "Did I wake you...?"

"No... No..." he whispered, and she could hear him stretching, his voice unsure and exhausted. She knew that he was lying. She sighed and shook her head, listening to his breathing, letting it lull her into a false sense of security, "What are you calling me for?"

She sighed again and sniffed, her voice heavy with tears and exhausted emotion.

"I argued with my Mom and Dad. They took my phone away..."

He paused before...

"I'm sorry..."

She shook her head, even though he couldn't see, "It's okay..." she shrugged, "They took my cellphone away... I just..." she gulped, "I needed someone to talk to and yours was the only number I could remember..." She sniffed and stopped the overwhelming need to blubber wiping her nose with the back of her rain moistened hand, "I'm sorry..." she apologised pathetically, "You don't deserve this..."

"No..." he said and she felt sick at the soft delivery of the word that showed no meaning, no nothing, he just said the word how it was and left nothing with it, "No... it's fine, Miles... you're gonna be okay. You're always fine," she smiled at the sincerity of his words and nodded, like she could believe it too, "You've got to remember that nothing's ever as bad as it first seems, you know..." her breath caught in her throat in the familiarity of their conversation and how it was just like any other time she'd called him upset, almost to the words he was saying, it was like nothing had changed, "There's always a reason for everything... always..."

She smiled and took his words as gospel, wanting to believe them, needing to believe them like they were the last thing she ever needed to know. She leant her head against the payphone and sighed, took in a huge breath that could barely fill her lungs because of her sobs, but tried to anyway.

She heard his breathing crack slightly on the end of the telephone, and it was almost like he couldn't bear the pathetic tears either, that it was hurting him as much as it was hurting her, "God I miss you..."

Her breathing stopped, caught in her throat in a fireball shaped lump that burned the gentle sensitive skin and made it impossible for her to talk or take in the oxygen she needed to survive. It seemed irrelevant anyway; she didn't feel like she was going to survive all this much longer and probably break any day now. Surely it would just be easier to give up now...

"You think missing me is hard?" She breathed, voice hoarse and eyes barely able to see through the thick fog of tears and rain that were obscuring her eyes from clarity, "You should try missing you..." A painful sob that made her throat ache passed through her lips, leaving a burn in its wake, "it's torture."

She heard another crack of his breathing, along with his softly pleading voice that was almost begging her through gentle breaths and whispers, "Don't say that..." he asked of her, "You can't say that... you know you can't, Miley..."

"Why not?"

"Because I -"

"Nick... are you ready? It's time to go?" came the clear loud voice that cut through their conversation, "Who are you talking to?"

Miley knew the voice, she'd known the voice before he had done. She had been on set with her for days as she guest starred on her TV show, helping bring her to fame and now the presense of the boy she loved, who no longer loved her back. He had transfered his affections, forgotten her, moved on to the new girl who was meant to be taking her place and being better than her. He was forgetting her and that was why she wasn't allowed to make him feel guilty. He may have been an asshole, but he wasn't that cruel. He wouldn't inflict that kind of pain on her. He wouldn't tell her that.

"Oh..." Miley said to him, suddenly understanding.

"Miley, I-" he started but his breathy sigh told her that he had lost his nerve, that she was probably standing right by him, staring at him, wanting to know why he was talking to her. Miley covered her eyes with her spare hand, her entire body shaking as she moved the hand to her mouth as the sobs erupted into her throat louder and louder until it was becoming impossible to hold them in.

"I have to go. Goodb-"

The line cut off before he'd even finished saying goodbye. His voice rung in her ears as her body heaved with the oncoming onslaught of sobs and rivers of tears. They escaped from her, her hands clutching at the metal payphone like it was a crutch to support her. Her eyes stung as she let the cries flutter from her chest and explode like volcanoes from her lips. Her cheeks burned and she longed for someone to hold her, to just... let her be against the warmth of their flesh. She needed someone, just one person, but all they wanted to do was give her a half-finished goodbye.

Somehow she returned to the hotel, her cheeks stinging still, but her eyes dry and empty. She was more zombiefied that when she left, her arms hanging at her sides as she stood soaked to the skin in the doorway of her bedroom. She had no idea what time it was, or how long she had been gone, but the second that she knocked on the door it opened and her mother and father were enveloping her into hugs and telling her to never do that again. Later she found out that she'd been gone for four hours and no one had known where she was, but that was before her parents gave her back her phone, and told her that they were wrong, and she was never to leave their sight without it with her again.

It was barely a triumph.

Nick wandered the hallways on the search for the bathroom or water, he hadn't decided what yet. He just wanted to walk past her room and see that she was okay, like he'd been doing for the past week that they'd not been sharing a bed together. He hadn't been sure that their dynamic would be the same while Joe and Mandy joined them, and instead had kept his distance waiting for her to give him a sign that it was okay for him to even talk to her normally. It would be just like Miley to pretend that their relationship wasn't heading back on track again, that they had shared a bed and almost a kiss. She liked to pretend that things were easier than they actually were.

But on this night, at 4am, all he heard when he walked past her room was the gentle sobs that came from her tiny chest echoed through the cracks in the doorway. He paused, his mission forgotten and his mind honing in on her as always, wondering what was wrong. He called her name. No reply. He tried again, but there was nothing. He opened the door and looked at her, washed with the colour of the blue moonlight and sighed as he saw her face.

She was asleep, her eyes releasing the tears behind her cheeks, as she did so. He watched her, so lost and alone, and felt as always that he was meant to do something, that he was meant to see her like this and make her feel better. He walked to her, bent down onto his knees beside her face and cupped a cheek in his hand, whispering into her ear.

"Wake up, Beautiful..." he muttered and he felt her eyelids flutter against his skin, "You're having a bad dream..."

He saw her eyelids flutter open, her hands flexing out to reach for him. He smiled weakly and pressed a kiss to her forehead as she continued to sob with tears streaming down her cheeks. She reached out for him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and neck as he lifted himself from the floor and onto the edge of the bed, letting her cry onto his t-shirt.

"I had a bad dream..." she told him, excusing herself. He nodded, his eyes closing as he lowered himself to lay beside her, inviting himself to stay. She didn't argue; just nodded and clutched at him as he pressed gentle kisses to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her tiny frame, nodding and snuggling into him as he gave her an almost silent, "I know."

A/N: You liiiiiike?

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