Chapter Six – Baby Steps

He'd managed to avoid her at school – it wasn't as if he saw her regularly anyway. Unless they were rehearsing, Blake and Alex didn't exactly move in the same circles. Alex had Jane, the red head she was always with, and Blake had...well, himself. His friend didn't really share the same viewpoints and opinions as him; he was much more driven, not to mention fairly strict about his lifestyle and he always got the sneaking suspicion that anyone who claimed to like him were only around him because of who he was or, more importantly, who his parents were.

But Friday swung around much quicker than he would have liked, and as he walked into the main studio, just as a class were leaving, he saw Alex sat on a bench already dressed for dancing. She had a quiet smile, and a serene expression; he wondered what she was thinking about that had her so totally lost from this world and immersed in another. She sighed, sounding truly peaceful for a moment, and he wondered if he should leave her be. But she saw him before he had a chance to run away, and her peaceful smile turned into a wide beaming grin, and slapping her thighs, she rose from where she sat and walked over.

"Ah Collins," she said, "You turned up."

Blake opened his mouth to retort – one of the hundred things he'd been rehearsing in his head all day to come back at her with should she start going on about Chase's accidental revelations – but found he couldn't. She didn't seem confrontational; she just seemed as if she wanted to get on with dancing.

"I've stretched," she added, playing with her ponytail and twisting it up into a bun. "I had a free period last, so I got here early."

"Ok," was all he managed, unzipping his bag. "But you'll still have to wait for me."

"That's fine," she smiled and putting her hands behind her back she began to pace across the wooden floor, looking at her pointes. Blake stood up quickly and glared at her.

"Alright, what are you up to?" he asked sternly. Alex spun on her heels and stared at him, looking genuinely confused.

"Sorry?"

"You heard me. I don't like games so whatever...thing...you're trying to do, I would prefer it if you just openly mocked me and got it over and done with," Blake said quickly but clearly, folding his arms aggressively.

"I'm not doing anything," Alex laughed.

"Yes you are," Blake cried indignantly,

"Ok," Alex sighed. "Please, tell me exactly what it is I've done since you've walked in."

Blake paused and put his hands on his hips. "Well," he started, faltering again as Alex raised an eyebrow and waited for a response. "Well, you've been...nice to me."

"Right," Alex said slowly, feigning guilt. "I'm so sorry. I realise that must have been fairly distressing for you. I'll bear that in mind for future interactions between us."

"You know what you're doing," Blake smirked. "Don't play coy, Alex."

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now?" Alex asked, cocking her head on the side with an amused smile. Blake shook his head, pulling on his own shoes a little aggressively.

"Look, I know what you're playing at," Blake sighed, rolling his eyes and walking straight past her to the centre of the room to warm up. "You think, just because of what Chase told you that you have some kind of 'power' over me now. I don't like it. It's childish. And annoying," he added for good measure.

"I honestly hadn't given it much thought," Alex said with a puzzled face and staring at him. "But I'm flattered that I have that much influence and effect on your life, Collins," she added smoothly. He winced as she repeated his words from the other day back to him.

"See, that's what I'm talking about," Blake muttered tersely. She blinked at him and took a deep breath in the quiet of the studio.

"I truly," Alex smiled, "joking aside, wasn't going to bring it up. It's not a big deal," she added. "I know you think I can dance – it's not a secret. And that's not arrogance either," she added, noting Blake's expression. "You wouldn't have picked me if you didn't think I could dance, and I know you have impossibly high standards. It's simple logic."

Blake inhaled deeply and regarded her expression a little longer, waiting for the shift from the girl before him back into the teasing vision of Alex he'd been expecting. She seemed a little smug, and true enough, looking at her feet again and moving her ankle in a small circle, her face broke into a smile.

"However, the knowledge that you think I'm 'quite pretty' was news to me..."

"That was taken completely out of context by a child who heard the tail's end of a conversation," Blake started ranting, pointing a finger at her, with Alex still grinning wildly. "And twisted it into something that sounds more flattering than it was meant to be."

"So you don't think I'm pretty? You think I'm ugly?" Alex frowned; trying to look hurt and holding a hand to her chest. Blake's mouth dropped as he stumbled for words, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"That's not what I...what I said was..." he tried to say, as his partner fell into peals of laughter. He fumed until Alex had finished. Standing up straight and coughing, she took another deep breath and met his eyes. "I have you finished?" he asked shortly. "Because I think it's about time we actually got on with something."

"I'm still waiting for you to warm up," Alex replied with a shrug. He tapped his foot, realising she was right and sighed a heavy sigh – one of defeat – before beginning his warm up routine. When he was finished, he glanced at the clock and raised his eyebrows.

"We should probably go through the choreography we started on Wednesday."

She didn't say another word, even in confirmation; her face was one of quiet amusement and she simply nodded, pacing across to him. She got herself into first position obediently and cleared her throat. Blake stared hard at her, waiting for another taunt to escape her lips, but nothing came, so he grabbed the remote and placed himself beside her in his own beginning stance.

"I simply meant that you have attractive qualities," Blake explained stiffly. "Not that I find you attractive." That was a lie; she was attractive, and he'd have to be blind not to notice that. He was after all a man underneath the bravado. His father had asked whether or not his new partner was good looking, to which he'd said, yes, she was quite pretty. Evidently Chase had heard him – he was sure he'd heard the little boy at the doorway. He was a great one for sneaking and spying. It wasn't as if Blake liked her, however. You could find someone attractive without being attracted to them, couldn't you? Her ego had already swollen in the last few days and he didn't want to add to it by explaining himself any further.

"Oh. Sure," Alex replied, but smiling intently. She looked to him from where she stood, blinking slowly. "Of course."

"I'm glad that's cleared up," Blake mumbled, swallowing hard, and avoiding her eyes. Pulling the remote from his dance pants pocket to turn on the music player, Tchaikovsky instantly filled the studio. It was instantly soothing on his nerves, and he could concentrate on the steps without interruption. He wasn't sure if she'd continue with her jokes once they were done – she seemed quiet, and focused on dancing for now – but if she did, he'd have a choice. He could either murder her, or Chase for starting this in the first place.

But she didn't. In fact, she was very quiet when they'd finished, yanking on a sweat top and drinking almost her entire bottle of water. That same pensive expression he'd seen on her face when he'd walked on had reappeared, and she moved as if he wasn't in the room.

"Are you ok?" he ventured, stuffing his things in his duffel bag. She looked across at him through her fringe and frowned.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem...far away," he said trying to explain it, and when the corners of her mouth curled up into a curious smile, he scratched his head. "Forget it."

"I'm fine," Alex assured him.

"Ok," he urged, looking elsewhere, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. "Sorry for asking." He mentally slapped himself – why was he apologising to her?

"Ok," she repeated, shaking her head. "See you next week," she called out, pushing the door to the studio open and leaving him alone. He took his time to pack his things up, putting some distance between them. Sure enough, when he finally emerged, she wasn't waiting for her lift in the parking lot, and he loaded his car with relaxed shoulders. He couldn't help but feel like Alex had the upper hand now, no thanks to his little brother, but there was very little he could do about it. He couldn't take it back could he? He slammed the door once he was in the driver's seat and sat for a moment, wondering what on earth had possessed him to even admit that she was good looking to his father. If that hadn't have happened, he wouldn't be in this ridiculous situation. He turned the ignition, hearing the engine chug to life in the same familiar way it always did, and looked over his shoulder to reverse out. He didn't usually discuss anything with his father unless it was to do with his future, let alone the inner workings with his mind. It started to rain as he pulled away from MSA, so he flicked his wipers on and turned the heating up.

He had been driving for a few minutes when, quite a bit ahead of him on the sidewalk, he saw a figure walking; duffel bag slung over her shoulder, jacket wrapped around her tightly, and walking quickly against the drizzle, it was unmistakeably Alex. Blake frowned, and slowed the car. It was Friday – hadn't she said her father only worked late on a Wednesday? So what was she doing walking all the way home in the rain?

"Not that it's any of my business," he muttered to himself. But he couldn't rationalise leaving her to walk, as much as having her in his car again might make him a glutton for punishment. Still there was no Chase this time so it wasn't as if the boy could get him into anymore trouble. He tutted and growled a little, and began to pull up alongside her.

He beeped his horn in a short sharp burst, making her jump round in surprise and, when she recognised the blue paintwork, she rolled her eyes heavily. She stopped, just as Blake rolled down a window and leant across the gearstick to talk to her. She brushed her hair from her face trying to look a little more dignified and furrowed her brow at him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking at her as if she were mad. She looked it – her hair was already fairly wet, hanging in dripping curls about her pale face, and she'd be soaked by the time she got home.

Alex blinked at him incredulously. "Pitching a no-hitter for the Yankees - what's it look like? I'm walking home."

"Why?"

"Because Blake, when you want to get from A to B," Alex explained very slowly and in a sing-song voice which made Blake grit his teeth, "you have to use a mode of transport. I chose my legs. You see, I left my magic carpet at home."

"I mean," he said coldly, "why hasn't your Dad come to get you?"

Alex crossed her arms and scowled at him. "He's been held up."

Blake heaved a sigh – he was going to get nowhere with her by asking questions. "Come on. Get in," he commanded, lifting the lock on the door so she could climb inside. Alex stared hard at him as the realisation the Blake Collins was offering her a ride home again, out of the goodness of his tiny robotic heart again, took a few moments to settle in.

"What?"

"It's raining, and you've got another four miles to go. I'll give you a lift. Get in," he repeated. She didn't move so he sat back in his seat. "Fine then," he said, pulling away from the curb slowly, but Alex started towards the door.

"No! No...wait," she said, and it sounded as if she were suffering from some inner turmoil. What was there to think about, Blake thought angrily. They may not be close, but he'd rather get in a car with her than walk all that way in a downpour, which it was steadily becoming. "Hold on," Alex said, opening the door and climbing inside, closing it with a little bit of force. He waited patiently until she'd gotten her belt on, and the second she had, Blake pulled off and headed for their street.

"I suppose I should say thank you," she said after a while. Rather begrudgingly, he noticed but he couldn't muster a smirk.

"You're welcome," he responded coolly, flicking on the wipers to a higher speed as the heavens opened and the droplets began to fall thick and fast, relentless. Alex looked out of the window, pulling a face at the bad weather, and glanced back at Blake with a frown.

"What?"

"Nothing," she muttered, going into her bag to get a towel out to dry herself off a little. Well this was just peachy, Alex thought to herself, huffing internally at her bad luck. The second she had something over Collins and here he was, victorious again, as he played the hero. She would have been fine to walk, had it not have started raining. She supposed he thought she would be indebted to him in some way now.

She didn't say a word to him as she started to dry herself off, feeling grateful for the warmth coming from the small heaters in front of her.

"Which shortcut do you take?" Blake asked.

"Huh?"

"You said the other day you take a shortcut that cuts time off your walk – which one?"

"Oh," she replied. "Across the Green."

Blake felt his mouth gape open. "Across the Green? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Does your father know?" he added, sounding much like a paternal figure himself he realised, noting his stern and lecturing tone. He was one cry away from uttering 'young lady'.

"It's perfectly safe," she grumbled, ignoring his question about her Dad. William did not know, and if he did, he'd be beyond furious.

"Hmmm, yes. I'm sure the hundred of victims that have been mugged, raped or killed in that area would agree with you," Blake sniped sarcastically. She flashed him a steely look.

"It's not really any of your business which way I walk home is it?"

"Fine," Blake snapped. "Excuse me for caring."

He ignored Alex's snort at his words, and kept his grip on the steering wheel. He went to change gear as they came to a T-junction, but the car came to a slow stop, with the engine dying as they reached the line. Making an angry noise at the back of his throat, and fighting the urge to pound the wheel as he might do normally, Blake turned his key in the ignition once again, bringing the car back to life. Alex watched him closely with wide eyes, having felt her heart jump into her throat; scenarios of the two of them trapped in a rainstorm in his car had crossed her mind, and none of them ended with them both coming out alive.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Oh, something the car's been doing lately," he sighed as they carried on. "It just suddenly stops while I'm driving sometimes. But it's ok once you turn the key again. I should probably take it to a garage. Price I pay for picking an old car I guess," he added, trying to sound jokey, but really only managing disgruntled.

"It sounds like your alternator is giving up the ghost," Alex remarked. Blake turned his head to her with a frown, surprised by her words. She glanced at him apologetically. "The alternator? It's...er...attached to your battery," she explained carefully. "It helps charge the battery as you're driving but by the sound of it, it's not helping the battery to hold its charge." Alex returned her focus to outside at the passing houses in the suburbs and nestled down in her chair to get comfy.

"How do you know that?" Blake asked her softly, unable to contain his how stupefied he was.

"It's just one of the many things that was wrong with my truck," she smiled ruefully.

"I thought you didn't have a car."

"I did," she admitted sheepishly. "Until it died. It needs a new crankshaft but..." She faltered. "Well, it'd be cheaper to buy a new truck."

Blake nodded awkwardly and noticed that Alex's cheeks were growing a little pink. He didn't know quite what to say. "Still," she continued, sounding a little more upbeat, "an alternator shouldn't be too hard to replace."

"Even for an older car like this?" Blake asked.

"Well, it might be a little trickier. How old is this thing?" she asked, wrinkling her nose as she turned around in her seat to look in the back at the fabric seats. Blake's bag was in the back, but beside that it was immaculate. Not a crumb or candy wrapper in sight. Blake obviously took good care of his car, which surprised Alex even further. She turned back round. "It's vintage right?"

"Late sixties – 1969, I believe. And she prefers the terms 'classic'," Blake smiled.

"She?" Alex repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

"Isadora," he said fondly, gesturing to the car.

"Isadora?"

"Isadora Duncan? She was a dancer."

"Yeah, I know who she is Blake," Alex tutted. "I just didn't expect you to have named your car."

He smiled to himself, and pulled over to the curb outside Alex's house. "You haven't named your truck?"

"Oh it has a name alright," Alex snorted. "But it's usually just a long string of expletives and I doubt that it likes it all that much." She grabbed her bag and went for the door. "Look...I...er...thanks for stopping. It was...kind of you." She sounded as if it had pained her to say it and he couldn't help but smile.

"You're welcome."

She paused awkwardly wondering whether or not to say anything further, but she decided to just disappear quickly, and opened the door to get out, swinging her legs out. Blake closed his eyes and screwed up his face behind her back, debating with himself whether or not he should say what was on his mind. He was in conflict; one side of him didn't want to give a damn what happened to her, and the other side – perhaps a little stronger – really didn't like the idea of Alex walking home by herself, simply because she couldn't get a lift.

"Alex, wait," he sighed, dejectedly. She was out of the car and bent down to meet his eyes.

"What?"

"Look..." Blake started, and groaned. "I can't believe I'm about to suggest this...it makes no sense you walking home when I live so close by. Let me drive you home on Wednesdays, or any other time we have a rehearsal and you can't get back."

She stared at him and tucked some loose hair behind her ears. "What?" she repeated.

"You can't walk home through the Green!" he cried. "Or in the rain. It's not...well, I can't let you do it."

"You...can't let me do it?"

"No. And it's practical. I only live a few blocks away. It's economical."

"Economical?"

"Stop repeating everything I say back to me," he scolded. "It's annoying."

"Well since we can't have a normal conversation without getting into a fight, Blake," Alex said softly. "I doubt spending extra time together will be good for either of us."

"Or...it might ease the tension," he suggested. "Maybe we just need to get to know one another. I'm...sort of sick of fighting with you all the time," he admitted, scratching his head. "You're a little too good at it."

She gave him a crooked smile. "Well, from Mr. Tenacious, I shall take that as a compliment."

Blake rolled his eyes and stared ahead, down the street in front of him. Perhaps she was right – spending more time together would only lead to more strain. But he had this sneaking suspicion that if they both put their minds to it and actually tried, they might be able to get along. And at the end of the day, that's all two people could do – just to try.

"Alright," she said, sighing and tearing him from his thoughts. "It makes sense I guess. Practically...economically. And if I catch a cold from walking home in the rain, I don't suppose you'd let me hear the end of it. I'm not giving you that satisfaction."

Blake gave her a friendly smile and shook his head. "Fine. Wednesdays then?"

Alec nodded, determinedly. "Wednesdays."

She shut the door and stood for a moment on the sidewalk, watching as he drove off. As loathed as she was to admit it, it had been fairly decent of him to stop. If someone had asked her this morning what she thought Blake might do if she were walking home in the rain, she would have said drive on by. And now she felt a little ashamed for the presumption. Not only that, he'd seemed genuinely concerned over the idea of her, unaccompanied, walking across the Green. It wasn't green at all; it was a park that ran alongside a rough housing estate. It wasn't a particularly safe area, and although it cut time off her walk, Alex gripped the small can of mace she kept with her tightly from the minute her foot touched the concrete to the second she was back on an open street. Perhaps, she thought, turning towards the house, he wasn't that bad after all. Perhaps everything she'd seen in him up to this point was all a front. Alex quite liked that idea – that there was more to him. Maybe they could even learn to get along, she thought with a wry smile. For now, they'd take baby steps. If they could reach a point where she didn't feel like shaking them every time they were together, that would be a miracle.