Zak came to us in the form of an eager apprentice, long before I was even married to anyone. Even after I had been, I hadn't fallen in love with him immediately, you see. It was a matter of time. I was still mourning the loss of my first husband, known onstage as Justice the Great. He had managed to meet his fate accidentally. Unlike me, he hadn't been hidden in a contrabass case or shot by a fancy Gramarye Golden Gun. He'd died in the water chamber.

Another thing that differed about his death and mine was that his death was real.

This explains why I was initially blind to his charm. I went through the routines as usual, not acknowledging anything out of the ordinary. But one day, Zak invited the troupe to dinner for our best season yet. At the close of our run at the Boland Art House, a local theatre dating back to the vaudeville era, we had grossed more than we ever had. This performance introduced an early version of the Quick-Draw Shootem, whose subsequent variations would prove even more successful until my disappearance. Magnifi, who visibly favored Zak, agreed to the outing, and off we went.

It was a fancy little joint, much nicer than the coffee shops we tended to frequent during our lunch breaks. The whole Troupe was seated together at a single table. I sat next to my father, who was then well, and would not grow ill until several years later. Zak and Valant sat across from us on the other side, performing impromptu magic tricks in friendly competition. After several rounds back and forth, they asked me to show them something. "Come on, Thalassa," Zak said, with a cunning smile on his face. "What do you have up your sleeve?" His eyes carried a hint of friendly challenge. Next to him, a bashful Valant was also smiling, but his smile was coupled with a scarlet blush.

"Nothing but air, considering I have no sleeves to hide anything under."

"Oh, come on!" Zak reached over and touched what I considered to be the collar of my dress, which wrapped around my arms and, although easily movable, served as flimsy - alright, I'll admit it - sleeves. "I've got something." He took his hand off of my collar-sleeve and pulled out a coin. "Aww, I knew it. Hey, you won't be using this anytime soon, will you?"

"A quarter won't get you anything these days, so no."

Zak smiled. "On the contrary. Here, let me get you a drink. There's a special tonight. Perfect timing, huh?" He turned to our table. "Valant, I trust that you'll wait for the food. Magnifi, don't let him eat anything that isn't his." He walked towards the bar area, leading me by the hand.

I was twenty-one and possessed a valid ID, so I threw my caution (though not all of it) to the wind. At the time, I considered Zak's little coin trick a flirt and maybe a modest, yet glaring physical advance. The man was handsome, yes, but I was still a grieving widow. At twenty-one measly years old, nonetheless. My father said I was growing up too fast. I think he was right. But I also thought it was very, very good. Twenty-one going on thirty, the older the wiser.

Zak and I sat next to each other at the bar. He ordered something hard, but he was smart enough not to go over the edge. This surprised me - he was headstrong, I'll give you that. I went for a strange fruity blend, diluted and soft as could be, and sipped it slowly.

"You know," Zak began, pushing two quarters towards the eager bartender, "I'm starting to like you. A lot."

My intelligent response: "Who, me?"

"Yes, you. I know about your loss. You know, Justice. And I feel stupid for saying this, but, Thalassa, you are a very fine young woman."

My throat tightened. "Ah...thank you. But tell me, how did you know about Justice?"

"At night, I heard you weeping," he said, and leaned towards me. "You cry too much, Thalassa." I very nearly cowered back, but his warmth was strangely inviting. "But you're a strong lady. And for that, I admire you...deeply." He grasped my hand, but was taken aback by the sudden constriction of my bracelet around my wrist. "Ah. Does that happen often?"

"Just nerves," I said. "Just...nerves." But it was something deeper than that. Unbridled feelings. Sudden admiration. Want. Need.

"You can't be nervous," he assured me, and stared me straight in the eyes. "There's nothing to be nervous about. But to be honest, I've got more nerves than you right now, and it's all because...because...uh, can I tell you something?"

"Please do."

He paused and took a deep breath. "Thalassa, I don't know how to say this, but...I feel strongly for you. Very strongly. I hope you understand. I wouldn't call it love, but I wouldn't call it a crush...most certainly not."

It was my turn to be taken aback. I shrank a little in my seat as he held my head in his gloved hands, staring me straight in the eyes. "On second thought," he said, "maybe that's what it is - love..." He leaned in to kiss me, and I accepted - simply because I had no choice. He took one hand from beneath my neck and placed it on my back, to keep me from falling off the barstool from the force of it all. I shook in his grasp. My heart was a jackhammer under the folds of my dress as our lips eventually locked together, undulating madly over open mouths.

When I pulled away, the feelings within me conflicted - anxious and relaxed; primal and dignified; starving and full. No, it wasn't my first kiss, but it left me with all the excitement and craving that such a kiss usually brings, only to an amplified degree. I sat there with him, drinking and talking, when Valant ran up and reminded us that our food was getting cold.

I was filled with such a lovely warmth that I decided that cold food was the last thing I needed.

A few months before Apollo was born, I had kept a book on my nightstand. It was an old paperback on magic, dating back to the late seventies - nearly a decade before my birth. The pages had long since yellowed and adopted a flea-market smell. I didn't mind. In fact, I'd dog-eared it numerous times to mark tricks I especially liked.

I had read the whole book during my first pregnancy, but I'd since forgotten its contents. Apollo was somewhere else, Zak was sleeping beside me, and I had woken up a bit too early. I got up, reached for the bookshelf, and opened the magic primer for the first time.

When I reached the section on patter and presentation, I read the first page halfway through before one sentence caught my eye.

"The popular conception of a magician being a tall dark gentleman with a goatee and beguiling manner fits about one man in a million."

My laughter echoed so loudly through the tiny bedroom that I had briefly roused Zak, who grunted once and fell back to sleep.

A/N.

I'm out of ideas, so I dunno whether I should continue this or not, as this may or may not pass as a suitable ending. I suck at writing romances. Tch, this came out so fluffy it wasn't even funny. XD

There are theatres named after people whose surname is Boland, but the Boland Art House in this fic is nonexistent. I just thought the name sounded cool.

I have no clue what Apollo's father's name is, but "Justice the Great" would make a cool stage name.

The book that Thalassa kept on her nightstand is an allusion to one I actually own. That is an actual sentence from said book (I claim no responsibility for it.) They may as well have printed "ZAK" in bold print in place of it.

6.26.09 - 7.22.09 (am I a slacker or what?!)