MORNING

Author's note: Hope everyone is enjoying the story. A special thanks to loonytunecrazy, acosta perez jose ramiro, and sssweetie. This one's for you three.

Morning came abruptly as the discordant ring jarred Phoebe from her comforting oblivion of sleep. As she reached over to lift the phone from the receiver, her movement was slowed by the presence of an arm encircling her. She worked her own arm out from the snare, picked up the phone, and replaced it on the switchhook to silence it. She then settled her head back into the soft pillow and held that ensnaring arm against her chest.

Even in sleep, there was firmness to his touch, but it was the firmness of an adoring partner who wanted to feel her warmth and proximity while providing the same for her. More than anything in the world – aside from rolling over and waking him up to do more of what they'd done last night – Phoebe wanted to stay there in that embrace and let the world just roll on by. Alas, she knew she had no recourse to such luxury, and after giving his hand one tight squeeze, and planting a kiss in his palm, she slipped out from underneath the covers and wandered from the bed to the bathroom where she turned on the shower.

She did her stretches and breathing exercises for a minute beside the tub to clear her head and begin to work through the moderate hangover she was feeling as she allowed the water to settle on a temperature that wasn't scalding or freezing. With her mind somewhat rejuvenated, she stepped into the tub and drew the curtain as the shower continued to run. She preceded to soak down her hair and body, washing away the vestiges of the previous night. She could physically as well as mentally feel the imprints of last night's activities being rinsed off of her and circling the drain. It gave her a feeling of liberation, like being reborn, and yet she felt melancholy that it was taking place. Some of these feelings she had no desire to expunge, and the very act of rinsing them off her person called to mind memories of other showers that had similarly rid her of these physical and mental imprints. They too had been missed when the bathing had ended.

She turned off the shower and stood in the tub for a moment as the water continued to circle the drain and drips fell from her hair as it hung down past her shoulders. Phoebe's sharp mind felt mired in the melancholy of her situation. Gerald Johanssen, the boy she had been best friends with all her childhood, and intimately shared herself with, was now in the other room blissfully slumbering off last night's revelry, and in less than half an hour Phoebe would walk out the hotel room door and begin another day in her life. And it was a life that was too busy, too random, and too confusing to include him. Once again Phoebe felt like crying at hearing her mind reach such a sad and unwelcome truth. This time she accumulated enough tears that she came close to letting them fall. But as usual her veneer of Japanese stoicism prevented her from going so far as weeping.

She drew back the curtain and grabbed a towel, which she immediately applied to her damp hair, drawing slowly out from the scalp, making sure not to ruffle any of the strands and complicate the process of tying it up in a bun later. She turned to face the mirror as she did this, and though she was not particularly self conscious about her nudity she paused for a minute to analyze her body in a new light; as though she was seeing herself for the first time. Her physique was short and wispy, and though not particularly well-endowed, it was undeniably attractive. She found herself imagining what a man like Gerald would think of her. What of that long hair? Those gentle eyes? That smooth skin? Her thoughts expanded on the concept and she imagined Gerald standing there with her, looking her up and down. She further imagined what it would look and feel like to have his well-muscled arms wrapping around her, one arm crossing her abdominals with the hand resting on her hip, the crossing her chest with the hand cupping one smooth breast. Her eyelids grew heavy as she imagined the feeling. Her thoughts went deeper, and she imagined his chest flush against her back, and his heart languidly pulsing against her skin.

For a few precious minutes she lost herself in the fantasy, imagining what it would be like to pick up her phone and call everyone else that was making demands of her time today, and tell every one of them that she had another engagement. It was wonderful thinking what it would be like to live a full day in these few rooms, just her and Gerald. They would talk, they would joke, cuddle, order some food, watch movies, make love...

And then Phoebe recalled why it was her mind could so quickly configure these images.

We've been here before. She recalled. We had the fantasy, the possibility of just us, and we were smart enough to know it was impossible. It will be no different now.

After drying the rest of her body, Phoebe wrapped the towel around herself and left the bathroom to grab her duffel bag. Yet, when she opened the door and saw Gerald still snoring peacefully with his back toward her, Phoebe found no reason – or desire – to go and dress in the other room. Thus she immediately set to work preparing herself. She languidly pulled on her underwear and fixed the clasp of her bra behind her back. Then as she crossed her kimono-like shirt over her bra, she heard a rustle in the bed behind her. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she continued with her routine. Only when she finished tying the shirt at her hip did he speak.

"I don't want you to go."

"Gerald, my job..."

"Not that. I mean, I don't want you to leave for that either, but I meant I don't want you to go later, when your meetings and lectures are all over. When you're done here and you have to go back to your job in Japan and all the other mishmash of work you do. I want you to not go."

She sighed. "Gerald, you know this is who I am and what I do."

"Phoebe I don't know what this is for you, but I'm not a guy who carves notches on his belt or bedpost. You knew that about me way back when, and I haven't changed."

"Gerald you and I..." she paused a moment in the act of pulling up her skirt. "...that was a long time ago."

"It started long time ago. Did it really end there too?"

She turned around as she began to fasten the skirt with a belt. When she turned around to face him, her face had a look that bordered on feral hostility. Her eyes were starting to fill with tears again. "You know it didn't."

He sighed. "OK, it's been a long time... a REALLY long time... and last time we were in this kind of situation we made a choice that neither of us wanted to make... even if it was the right one at the time. But we're here now, and we aren't kids anymore. So I say we pick up from where we left off. Let's make it right this time." He persisted.

"Make it right this time? By doing what Gerald? Should I tell all those people that I can't make it and get fired from my job? Or should I quit my job and move here? Or should I ask you quit the things you're doing and try to come with me on all the crazy trips I take? We aren't teenagers anymore and we can't depend on teenage fantasies to carry us through this. There's no circus for people our age to run off to."

"Pheebs I never wanted to lose you."

"You think I DID?"

"I didn't mean for you to get hurt."

"Gerald, intention isn't as relevant as action. And like it or not, intended or not, I WAS hurt. I AM hurt. You knew I was leaving… the next morning no less!"

She ran her hands through her hair and started to tie it up behind her head. She should've been doing it in front of a mirror, but the only one available was in the bathroom, and even though she couldn't bear to turn around and look at Gerald, she had no desire to go into the other room and leave him. As she set to work, he sat up and turned his back to her as he pulled on his boxers and T-shirt. Throwing his legs over the other edge of the bed he stood up, snatched his pants off the shoulder rest on the couch where he'd thrown them and finished attiring himself. When he was fully dressed, and Phoebe was adjusting the position of her watch, and getting ready to go apply appropriate makeup and perfume, he issued a challenge in a voice that was more hurt than harsh.

"So I should have just stayed away then? Just let you go without seeing you one last time? 'So long'... 'have a nice life'? Is that what I should do again here and now?"

Gerald regretted snapping at her the moment his words had escaped his throat.

"Gerald," she took a deep breath and spoke in carefully measured tones. "What we had back then... and what we had last night... I don't regret either experience, and I don't resent you for it. You were you, and I was me, and we were together, and they were wonderful times, both of them. And I wish they would go on and on. I thought of it this morning while you slept and held me. But ten years ago and last night are both over. And right now I have to meet with the curator from the Noguchi in less than an hour, then have lunch with the Executive Board from the Hall of Science, and after all of that I still have to give my lecture at the QMA tonight. And then tomorrow I have a flight at 8:00... Nothing about this situation is easy..."

"So make a part of it simple if not easy." Gerald interjected. "Invite me to your lecture. Ask me if I want to go for a bite to eat when it's over..."

"Gerald please..." Yes I would like that.

"I'll wear something a little more formal. See if I can even come close to matching you in classiness."

"...don't..." Do.

"We'll talk, go walking, share thoughts about trivial topics that we'll pretend are important to us."

"...stop..." Tell me more.

"We'll stay up all night, watching movies, eating junk food, we'll fall asleep on the couch or in bed, and just enjoy each other's company..."

"I said STOP!" Phoebe exploded. This time her inner thoughts would not compete with her speech. Gerald, for his part, was so stunned by the explosion he had to take a step back. Phoebe continued before he had a chance to interject something again.

"We're not teenagers anymore, Gerald. We're not classmates, or pen pals, or colleagues, or even... people who shop at the same grocery store or… stand at the same bus stop or... get coffee at the same café... there's nothing in either of our lives that overlaps anymore." She stopped to breathe and cover her eyes were her hand. She didn't want to make this worse by crying.
"We're just... two, old friends who parted ways a long time ago... and made some hasty decisions that left a mark on this relationship."

She had to clench her jaw, but her lips were already drooping down and starting to quiver.

"I never wanted it to be this way. I never wanted to leave you and I never wanted us to stop seeing and being with each other. But this is the way it is. And it's… it's hard for me, Gerald. God I can't even begin to tell you how hard it is for me. I can't... I can't get through a day anymore without looking at an old picture, or thinking about you and me together, and remembering when we were young and... how nice it was to be together. And I c-can't think about those days without remembering how sad and regretful and angry I've felt with how it ended."
She stopped to cover her eyes again. She was quivering from head to toe and trying with all of her might to stop the deluge of emotions that threatened to pour out. For his part, Gerald's shoulders sagged, and though he wanted to take her in her arms and comfort her, he knew she would retreat from him if he came forward.

"G-Gerald, I've never asked a great deal of you. But I'm asking you please... please try to understand me and let this be what it needs to be. I know it hurts. It's always hurt, and I don't know if this is a wound that time is going to heal. But these are our lives now. Please tell me that you understand."

He stepped forward and made to put an arm around her, but when she cringed he withdrew and let his arm hang at his side.

"I understand." He said in an even tone.

She exhaled a thank you and proceeded with her routines. He walked past the bathroom door. With a mutter of show myself out, followed by a click, a swing, and a resonant locking sound, he was gone.

After he left, Phoebe had to pause another moment. She then had to work with every fiber of her being to force herself to finish the task at hand. The whole time she worked, she was beset by screams within her mind telling her to run out the door and chase him down, grab him in the tightest embrace she could muster, and tell him she didn't want them to leave each other ever again.

Once before... now again? She thought somberly.

In the end, it was her rational, business-oriented thinking that won out over the inner clamor. The model of efficacy and controlled demeanor, Phoebe received her scheduled breakfast service at the door at 8:00, finished her meal and flossed and brushed thoroughly. After packing the last of her things, she departed from the room and left her duffel with the concierge as she set out to begin her day.

In every moment, and in every well choreographed and seemingly purposeful gesture, she was on autopilot. Her mind couldn't and wouldn't rid itself of the pain. She had no doubt that if not for the stoicism she learned from her father, she would have been crying every minute.

Author's note: The story is nearly over. I invite you to tell me what you think.