Disclaimer - I don't own Harvest Moon.

Author's note - If I do have any readers left for this story (and I don't deserve them for taking so stupidly long with this chapter), then I can only apologise for the huge delay. Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter: The Scarlet Sky and Awesome Rapidash. Hopefully, updates will be more frequent from now on...

Nothing And Everything

In the weeks following his disastrous 'wooing' of Elli, Gray could at least admit that some good had come of his actions. Only a few days into Winter, Elli and her employer, Doctor Tim, made the shock announcement of their engagement. It was a shock because no one, except for Gray who found himself in the briefest love-triangle imaginable, seemed to know that they were a couple. And, to ease his pain over the situation, he liked to think that his attempted dating of the nurse had pushed Tim into asserting his position with a wedding. Something like that, anyway.

"Y'know, I always had an inkling about those two," Ann said musingly, as she wiped down tables. It was a gloomy Thursday morning, and Gray was sat in the restaurant trying in vain to make the most of his day off.

He gave Ann a slightly idignant look over his bowl of porridge. "If you knew they were together," he grumbled, "why did you send me off to the Clinic with a bunch of bloody Trick Blues?"

"I said, an inkling," Ann tutted, absent-mindedly. She didn't even look up from her cleaning, a few tables away.

Gray merely sighed and decided not to press the matter. Well... he and Elli had been doomed from the start, then. In all honesty, the blacksmith didn't really care. He thought Elli was sweet girl, but even if she hadn't been involved, he didn't evision any sort of future for them.

"I heard they're having the ceremony in a few weeks," Ann continued obliviously. "Do you think you'll go?"

Gray shrugged non-commitally. To be totally honest, weddings weren't really his scene at all. Slushy speeches and lovey-dovey vows just made him cringe. And considering that this was Elli's wedding, there was bound to be an abundance of pink confetti.

On the plus side, though, it couldn't possibly be any worse than Jack and Mary's wedding. Their's had been a quiet, understated affair; not too overdone or lavish. Gray supposed he would have enjoyed it, if it hadn't been Mary's.

"Well... I may as well go," he conceded eventually. "It's not like I'll have anything better to do."

At that point, Ann launched into one of her famed rants about how he should focus on the positives and refuse to be dragged down the slippery slope of self-pity. Gray knew she was probably right, but it still didn't stop him looking favourably on returning to work tomorrow.

Thursdays used to be his haven in amongst a busy, thankless week of non-stop work. On a Thursday he didn't have to keep darting glances at the old clock in the workshop, counting down the seconds until freedom. He didn't have to apologise to Mary when a tough job delayed him, or worry about trailing dirt and oil across her spotless hardwood flooring. His only concern on a Thursday was giving away his true feelings for her. With hindsight, though, he'd obviously been a little too efficient on that front.

These days, the days of Mary-and-Jack, the married couple, Thursdays were rather different. He didn't trust himself to go anywhere near the Library, day off or not, so that was out of the question. Neither a calming walk at the beach, or even a moody trek across Mother's Hill could tempt him, either. So, he generally let his days off drift by; not working nor relaxing. Most importantly, not caring. Naturally, with a workaholic like Ann prowling around, this attitude was greatly frowned upon.

"Come on, Gray," she kept yelling, " that porridge must be cold by now."

Gray was very tempted to irritate her further by requesting more - but he didn't quite dare. The woman was armed with a broom, after all.

Thankfully, he was finally granted a stroke of good luck when the front door burst open and Cliff wandered in, shaking snowflakes from his mane of dark hair. "What on earth are you doing back?" Ann barked, turning her attentions to the Vineyard worker and leaving a very relieved Gray in relative peace.

Cliff looked taken aback, but braved the questioning. "I've not been fired," he told her, knowing it was usually best not to come between Ann and her cleaning. "Manna and Duke said I could the day off, that's all. It's really really cold over there and they thought the heating might be bust, so... they let me go."

"Cool," Gray mumbled, swallowing a mouthful of his long forgotten porridge. It was indeed cold and he ended up throwing his spoon down in defeat. He couldn't help thinking that not even a typhoon or sub-arctic conditions would cause his grandfather to send him home from the forge. The reason for the old man's superior strength lay in his work orientated attitude - something which Gray admired, but didn't exactly hope to emulate. He was pretty sure he'd never get anywhere near that level of expertise, anyway.

Ann's blue eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as she regarded Cliff. "Ooh," she squeaked, sounding practically inhuman and very much unlike herself. "You can help me!" She thrust a rag at her boyfriend, before dragging him off towards the back room. "I think I've got a spare broom for you. Come on..."

Silence. Blissful, empty, unfilled silence.

Gray leaned back in his chair and let it wash over him. He would have to thank Cliff later for unwittingly distracting Ann. Or, of course, Duke for being such a total cheapskate when it came to heating bills.

On the long list of things Gray disliked, parties - especially the very loud kind - were placed quite high. Contrary to what you might have heard, he wasn't completely anti-social - people in general were okay with him - but parties felt like such an obligation. And it was that which he disliked more than anything. Even more than the deafening racket and -

Gray shook his head and smiled to himself. Even the likes of Cliff would be calling him Gramps if they could have heard that. Ever since getting together with Ann, Cliff had thought himself it.

On the morning of Elli and Tim's wedding, Gray, who had dressed tidily but not fancily, woke up to an empty room and the sight of a snow covered Mineral Town. The dull grey of the horizon did not suggest a celebration to him.

He found Ann and Cliff preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Now, they were dressed fancily. Surprisingly so. "I feel under-dressed now," Gray grumbled to himself, as he flopped down at the table where Doug, Ann's father, was already sat. "And are you wearing a skirt, Ann?"

"Yes." The tone of her voice suggested she wasn't exactly happy, either.

Doug glanced knowingly over his paper at Cliff, who refused to glance back. He sighed audibly. "It'd be nice if you'd just act a little more like a lady, Ann," Doug said. "All this yelling and joking and tearing about; aren't you ever going to grow up? It's just not how a young woman should behave."

Poor Doug... Gray even felt a tiny bit sorry for him, but was he ever going to learn? Just as Ann refused to act proper and ladylike, Doug refused to accept his daughter for who she was and very much wanted to be. It was a never-ending cycle. The skirt didn't flatter Ann as it was supposed to and she wore it as if she was well aware of this fact. Uncomfortable wasn't the word.

After that, breakfast became a distinctly stony affair. If Ann had shouted, it would at least have released the building tensions - but for once she was able to bite her lip, only going so far as to throw her father's breakfast down in front of him before stalking back to the kitchen. Cliff stared after her helplessly, rooted to his chair. Like Gray he was wearing a crumpled, never-before-seen tie - though, unlike his friend, he twined it nervously between his fingers.

Sometimes, when he saw Cliff acting like a startled cat, choosing his words with ridiculous care and skirting around Ann's fiery personality, Gray couldn't help feeling awash with sweet relief at still being single. It seemed far easier by comparison, sometimes. But he only had to think of Mary, for her soft, gentle image to chase away those thoughts. Maybe that was how it was for Cliff. Maybe all he had to do was focus on Ann's sparkling blue eyes, or her endearing freckles, or whatever it was he loved about her in particular... and that was enough. Maybe he just didn't want to screw things up yet.

Gray supposed he would be wary of doing the same, should he ever have ended up with Mary. First of all, he'd have to make sure he wasn't simply dreaming - and then, and only then, would he do absolutely anything to stop her slipping away. Cat impersonations and all.

The wedding turned out okay. Not bad. Pretty average.

...And any other uninspired, unromantic terms Gray could possibly think up. As far as he was concerned, weddings were always one of two things. Either fine or else simply excruciating. He wasn't being deliberately awkward or grim for the sake of it; merely factual. Of the few weddings Gray had been invited to, not one had he truly, honestly enjoyed. Why he couldn't quite say, but they almost made him feel as though he wasn't supposed to be there. Like an imposter.

Anyway, parties. Yes. They fell into pretty much the same bracket, though actually, Elli and Tim's reception wasn't as bad as he'd expected. Doug had put on another amazing spread, Ann was showing off her own peculiar dance-style and Cliff, thankfully, was skulking at his side.

"It's not that I don't want to dance with her," Cliff kept saying, while Gray humoured him. "It's just... my feet."

"Yeah?"

"I can't risk breaking them," he explained. "Not in my line of work."

At that moment, Gray was forced to hide his laughter behind a hacking cough. My line of work- ? Moving barrels from one place to another was hardly what Gray would call challenging, but he reasoned that, maybe, with crutches it might be more 'interesting'.

"Fair point," he agreed eventually, as Ann pulled a reluctant Duke into furious tango.

So, all in all, it certainly wasn't worst party Gray had ever attended. Could have been better, could have been worse by far. But certainly, it could have been better...

"Have you decided on a name yet?" he heard Popuri coo. She, Sasha, Anna, Lillia, Rick and Karen were all crowded around a beaming Jack. Mary was not at the party at all, though Gray recalled spotting a sheet of long, black hair through the crowds in the church.

"Well, we don't know whether we're having a boy or a girl yet," Jack answered, laughing. He leaned casually back in his chair, while Popuri giggled. Gray ached to watch him. He wanted to scowl, but somehow he couldn't. He was awed.

Imagining himself in Jack's position, effortlessly confident, fingers twining through thick, dark hair, as people hung on his every word, was... utterly impossible. They were worlds apart. Jack didn't just have Mary, he had everything.

"And which would you rather?" Sasha asked curiously. "A boy or a girl?"

Jack considered carefully, barely able to conceal his rampant pride. "Either would be fine, as long as it's healthy," he admitted to the groans of those around him. "But... I have to confess, I would love a son. Mary's more impartial really, though I think she'd like a little girl."

The groans were replaced by a series of sickly sighs. Gray turned to Cliff, hoping to gage his friend's opinion, only to find him completely tuned out of the conversation. Instead, Cliff's glazed eyes were staring through the dancers, at Ann. She was leaping around eagerly, in her element.

Gray smirked and shook Cliff's shoulder. "Go and dance with her," he said quietly, scarcely raising his voice above the steady thump of the music. "Go on. You clearly want to."

Of course, Cliff was ever indecisive and twitchy. "I'm going anyway," Gray told him, surprising even himself.

Cliff's eyes snapped away from Ann in an instant. "Going?" he echoed. "Where?"

Good point that, Gray mused, where? "Just for a walk," he finally shrugged. The words slipped out very easily. "It's too hot in here. Too loud." He spun and headed for the front door without further explanation, confident that he appeared directionless.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. He knew exactly where he was going.