For someWhereinRoma and christierrr. I know everyone is superbusy and I really appreciate that you took the time to let me know your thoughts. Also, of course, for traceit. Now that we're in the final stretch, she's really keeping me from making horrible mistakes!

24

Lima was the same, exactly the same, except that there were more ghosts around more corners now, and I was the same too, except that I saw the new ones. Images of myself as a young girl, walking hand in hand with my mother, competed with images of myself and Will, barely touching in the backseat of a cab, for my undivided attention, and all of them gave me a headache. But I reminded myself repeatedly of what Odessa had said: I could do it, because I had to do it. There was no other way for me.

So I handled it as best I could. We had arrived a week before the concert date so that I could make nice with the local press, visit some schools, kiss hands and shake babies and I don't know what else, so at the very least I was kept busy. Plus, even if Lima was the same and I was the same, this visit was so completely different in every way that I could almost forget where I was if I tried hard enough. Last time I'd flown in coach, hidden my identity, skulked in my mother's house, avoided going out in public, gone bowling, fallen in love. This time everything was the exact opposite. I arrived by private jet, flaunted myself for the press, stayed the hell away from my mother's house, made many public appearances, did not go bowling, and most especially did not fall in love. Or go anywhere near the man I was in love with.

The problem was that I could, if I let myself, and I knew it. Whenever I was alone, whenever it was quiet enough for me to hear myself think, I missed him with a fierceness that seemed to intensify based on proximity alone. Knowing he was so close, I longed to go to him. Not even to speak to him, just to watch him, as though that were possible with the press dogging my every step and my days scheduled down to the minute. Which was my saving grace, of course. As much as I wanted to do something stupid, as much as I probably would have done something stupid, the schedule Odessa provided for me allowed no time for such nonsense, or honestly even much time to think about him at all. She'd probably planned it that way, and I was grateful. Of course I was.

Unfortunately for her (well, unfortunately for both of us, really, but it was Odessa's hard work that was spoiled) the label had different plans, which they only deigned to disclose three days in advance. I was in my hotel suite, such as it was, contemplating the steam rising off the pot of hot chocolate I'd had sent up after dinner when she knocked frantically. She stormed inside without waiting for me to answer. Before I could even ask what was wrong, she started in with the death threats.

"I am going to kill him," she spat, slamming the door behind her.

The thing is, she sounded like she meant it. It was… a little alarming. "Who? What? Why?"

"Whichever hellspawned label bastard is responsible for this," she growled, brandishing the piece of paper she clutched. "He is a dead man. Or woman, if it was Louise. Dead. I fucking swear it."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her theatrics as I reached for the paper. "Calm down. What is this, anyway, what has you so upset?"

"You're not going to like it," she warned, handing me the memo. "I literally intend to commit premeditated murder over this, will happily go to jail for 20 to life just to have the pleasure of strangling whoever did this and watching the light leave their eyes forever."

The letter was short and to the point, as though whoever had written it suspected it might have to be sent via telegraph: For grand finale (LTYSF, SV) Wm. McKinley HS glee to provide backup. Routine prepped. Rehearse Dec. 5, Dec. 6 preshow. Photo ops etc.

"You have got to be kidding me," I choked out, once I had a handle on my shock.

"I wish. Desmond faxed it over just now, but he swears they only sent it this afternoon," she ranted. "Which means they've been sitting on this for weeks."

"But… Dess, come on, what on earth could this possibly accomplish? Won't it just remind people of the whole scandal all over again?" I could not comprehend what would make anyone think this was a good idea.

"Desmond has a theory," she began. "I'm not sure if it's correct. Plausible at least. You need to rehabilitate your reputation in this area specifically. Having local kids perform, especially for an educational benefit, will play really well to the local area press. Even if the scandal is revived, your actual efforts will have a stronger effect here. As for the rest of the country… Well, having the scandal revived won't hurt your album sales there."

I looked at her in disbelief. "That is the stupidest goddamn thing I've ever heard."

She shrugged. "Maybe. But the label released the info today, and the press is eating it up. And not just local press, either. They love it, hometown celebrity giving hometown kids a chance…"

"I'm all for giving kids a chance or whatever," I told her. "But does it have to be these specific kids? Seriously?"

"Well aside from their connection to the whole mess last year, they won Sectionals recently or something. Whatever that means. Anyway, it's done." She looked at me sympathetically. "For what it's worth, their advisor won't be with them backstage or anything. The label doesn't want you guys photographed together, doesn't want there to be any opportunity for photoshopping or spin."

That was something, at least, but not enough. "But… He'll be there, Dess. Out there somewhere, watching, listening…" He'd know, he'd have to know all the songs were about him, and that was just horrifying. Somehow there is a huge difference between baring your soul to strangers and baring your soul to the person who inspired you to do it in the first place.

"Just don't think about it," she advised, as though that would be the easiest thing in the world. "Like I said, it's done. Worrying about it won't change anything."

Before I had the chance to tell her I had to worry whether it would change something or not, the hotel phone rang. Dess and I looked at each other uneasily, both wondering what new insanity the suits back home had come up with. I nodded at her, gestured to the phone, and she answered it as gingerly as if she was answering a cobra or something. "Yes?" Pause. "No. We're not expecting anyone." Pause. "No, I don't care. Send her away." Pause. "In that case, send her away immediately." Pause. "I speak for Ms. Castle, and I say send her away!"

After another moment she handed me the phone, shaking her head, clearly miffed. "They want to hear it from you."

I almost grinned, in spite of everything else that was going on. She hated when people deferred to me instead of her, though she should have been used to it at this point. "Hello?"

"Ms. Castle!" a very young-sounding voice on the other end exclaimed. Some hotel staffer, I assumed, since I didn't recognize his voice. "I'm so sorry to disturb you! But… Someone is here to see you, she says she knows you. I'd send her away like the lady said except… Well, she was my guidance counselor in high school…"

Of course. Emma, your timing is impeccable. For a split second, I wanted to repeat Odessa's instructions. Considering everything I was dealing with, she was on the shortlist of people I really didn't want to see right now. Or possibly ever. It's not that I didn't want her to be happy; I just didn't want to have to see the evidence of it in her smile, in her eyes, hear it in her voice. I didn't want to see her glowing with the love I'd wanted so badly for my own. If I had to see it I knew I would covet it, and it wasn't right, it wasn't fair, when she was my friend and I wasn't her rival in any way, shape or form.

"Send her up," I ordered, reluctantly, before returning the phone to its cradle.

"Is this a good idea?" Odessa asked, looking at me intently.

"Honestly? Probably not. But… She's my friend, Dess, and between the two of us she has more right to be angry with me than I do with her. If she can stand to see me, I can stand to see her." I hoped.

She shook her head at me. "When will you accept that you didn't do anything wrong?"

"It's not about what I did," I told her. "It's about what I feel. Anger, jealousy… I have no right to any of those emotions. None. If she can forgive me, I should be grateful for it."

"But-" Odessa began, voice stubborn.

I cut her off with a suggestion. "You should go. This is going to be awkward enough without you glaring daggers at her from the corner."

"Or throwing them," she muttered sullenly. "Fine. Call me as soon as she leaves; we have a homicide to plan."

Throwing open the door, she froze when faced with the woman who had her fist already raised to knock on it. Odessa stepped back to allow Emma to enter, and exited with one last significant look. And then it was just the two of us. She was like Lima, like me, exactly the same, except she seemed… Lighter. Happier. And I hated her for it before I could stop myself.

"Emma," I greeted, attempting to sound pleased, attempting to smile.

Her expression betrayed her uncertainty. "I'm sorry to just show up like this, but I had to-"

"Don't worry about it," I said, cutting her off. I was surprised to find that there was a part of me, a small one perhaps, that was genuinely pleased to see her. After everything that had happened, I'd worried she'd never speak to me again, and the fact that she hadn't answered my Email hadn't helped. The rest of me just felt… self-loathing, mostly.

"Please don't be mad at Matthew for calling… He just graduated a few months ago, I knew he wouldn't be able to say no to me," she confessed.

I couldn't help but smile slightly at this rare example of manipulation on her part. "Nicely done."

She smiled back hesitantly. "Thanks."

Feeling at a bit of a loss, I reached for a mug on the tray I'd had sent up after dinner. "Would you like some hot chocolate? It's probably more like lukewarm chocolate at this point, but…"

"Yes, please, that would be lovely," she answered, reaching out with her left hand to take the beverage from me.

A large diamond on her ring finger caught the low electric light, refracting disproportionately bright tiny rainbows before my horrified eyes. And I swear, and please forgive the melodrama, but I felt those little shards of brilliance just like needles to the heart. I sat down abruptly, uncertain my legs could still support me. I wanted her forgiveness, I wanted her happiness, I wanted her friendship, but more than that, for that one moment, I wanted everything she had so desperately I could hardly breathe. Will's trust, his respect, his love… His future. I would have given anything to be wearing that ring on my finger.

Emma, preoccupied with her hot chocolate, didn't seem to notice that she had just sucker-punched me. She sat down on the couch across from me, examining her mug minutely before apparently deciding it was clean enough to drink from. Though she was in no way flaunting her diamond, to me it flashed neon bright, and I could not take my eyes off of it.

"Congratulations," I said quietly, once I could speak through the pain in my chest, gesturing to her left hand. "On your engagement."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, smiling. "It's not an engagement ring, actually, it's a wedding ring. We were in Vegas for the weekend and just decided to be spontaneous…"

I closed my eyes tightly, trying and failing to fight off another wave of grief, worse than the first. But I just… I couldn't do this. Surely it wasn't fair of her to ask me to do this.

"That's… Great, Emma, really amazing, I'm so… Very happy for you." I forced myself to say the expected words, though I doubt I was able to put any feeling behind them. Then, thinking only of escape, I stood and began to ramble. "But if you'll excuse me, there's something I forgot to tell Odessa, so I'll just go… Take care of that, and then I'll be back, but you don't have to wait if you don't want to, not that I don't want you to, but if you have to leave I understand so… I'm going to go."

"Honor… Norah… Are you alright?" she asked with such genuine concern I could hardly bear it.

Looking at her worried expression, I decided to just tell her the truth. She was still my friend, even if she was also married to the man I still (stupidly) loved. "I'm… Honestly, Em, I am happy for you, I just don't know if I can… Handle all of this. I'm sorry. Today is just not…"

"Oh god," Emma murmured, eyes widening. "Honor, no, wait, you don't understand-"

I interrupted her. "Really? Because there didn't seem to be anything ambiguous about your statement."

She had the temerity to smile, and for a moment I wanted to slap the expression off her face. "You're just missing some details, is all. My husband's name is Carl Howell. He's my dentist. Will and I never… I mean, I wanted us to but he… He's why I came to see you, actually."

I blinked at her in confusion, sinking into my chair for the second time. "What?"

"After you left," Emma began, looking at me very seriously, "I was hurt, and angry… Furious, really. But after I got your Email, and really thought about it, I forgave Will. Of course I did. But I also recognized that his life had just barely fallen apart and he needed to put it back together without either you or me in it. So I told him he needed to be alone for awhile."

She said this all so calmly, so matter-of-factly, and I'm sure if I hadn't still been trying to process everything I'd have seen the wisdom in her words. "Okay…"

"I intended to wait for him, I really did," she confessed. "But then Carl asked me out, and I said yes and… I'd never have believed it, but he's perfect for me. He takes me out of myself, he's helped my… habits… so much. We have fun together. And I didn't think twice about marrying him."

I was still in shock at this point. All this time I'd been imagining the two of them together, hating her for that and hating myself for it too, and now… I didn't have to imagine that anymore. This didn't mean there was any kind of chance for me, of course. But at least I could rid myself of all my sick jealousy. It was a huge relief to know that our friendship would not longer be tainted by my envy.

"I'm so happy for you, Emma." This time it was easy to put genuine emotion into that sentence, because it was true. And I was happy for me, too.

"Thank you," she said, beaming. "But that's not why I'm here. Look, Will… He's my friend, and you're my friend, and I want you both to be happy. I thought… I mean, you'd only known each other for such a short time, I thought after a month or two… And then I thought that once all the publicity died down, things would improve, but he's still... Still hurt, still angry, but under all of that he loves you. Not that he's said anything," she added when I looked up at her sharply. "I just know. Why else would he still be hurt, still be angry, after a full year? Any time one of your songs comes on the radio, he turns it off almost violently… He can't stand to hear your name. Either of them."

I didn't respond to her for a long time. In all my imaginings, every possible scenario I'd ever considered, I'd never ever thought he might still care for me. After what I'd said? What I'd done? Absolutely not. Of course, I'm not exactly an optimist, but I didn't think my analysis could have been so far off on this. Emma was always right, or almost always, but… She could not possibly be right about this. Or she could be. But no, I couldn't let myself think that, couldn't afford to believe it.

"And this is a good thing?" I asked, mind reeling.

Emma smiled at me. "Of course it is."

I looked at her with every emotion I was feeling in my eyes. "Guide me," I whispered. "Counsel me. I don't know what to do."

"Do you love him?" she inquired gently.

I nodded once, shortly.

Emma's smile widened. "Then you need to see him."

TBC

Not to guilt you guys or anything, but I have a very depressing, boring job, and reviews just perk me right up...