A/N - Thank you for those who messaged and are watching this story, and also for making it a favourite. It warms the nervous write inside.

The next chapter is here, and I hope you enjoy it.

"Mister Minkus?"

The young man startled. Slightly disorientated before he realized that he was sitting in a leather chair. A leather chair that was in the company's Gulfstream G500 as it was flying back to New York after a long week in Paris. The plane's hostess, Grace stood next to his chair as he focused his eyes, her red hair pulled back into an efficient pony tail, her navy skirt and white blouse appointing her.

"Sorry Grace, I must have dosed off," he mused as he sat up in his chair. He moved his laptop to one side still getting his bearings as Grace smiled at him.

"I certainly don't blame you sir. It has been a long week." She looked further down the plane where Farkle's assistant Curtis was filing some paperwork.

"Mister Wilkins asked me to leave you be and only to wake you as we started to descend back to JFK." Farkle turned his chair after hearing Grace's statement and fixed Curtis with a look of annoyance; while Curtis merely shrugged his shoulders in mock innocence, before he smiled and continued on with his task. Farkle turned back to her with a wry smile on his face.

"Thank you, Grace," assured Farkle who checked his laptop once more, making sure his notes had saved.

"My pleasure sir. We have approximately fifteen minutes before descent if you wish to freshen up before fastening seat belts," she advised as she removed Farkle's glass from his table and returned to the galley, allowing Farkle to stand and move towards the rear of the plane and past Curtis.

"Isn't that conspiracy Curtis?" Farkle asked half-jokingly.

Curtis was older than Farkle, approaching his mid-forties. He had been his assistant for nearly five years now and had the younger man worked out pretty well. Farkle was known to be a complete workaholic, driving himself into the ground sometimes to make a deal work, or to design or complete a prototype before it was due. Curtis also knew that Farkle drove himself relentlessly (and albeit needlessly) to live up to the surname he carried, its expectations heavy and constrictive.

"I prefer to call it tactical, Farkle," he smiled at his boss. Curtis was a former special forces officer, having deployed to some of the most remote and inhospitable places on this earth before he discharged on medical grounds. Not only was he Farkle's assistant, but also his minder, bodyguard, friend and growing confidante. And he took each role seriously.

"The paperwork and testing schedules for the new components for Tesla have been approved. We will meet with their R&D team on Monday at 10am out in Nevada. The testing will take a month as agreed, but I made sure that you were there for the first few days. Musk will be there as well, as will the press. Minkus PR will have some notes for you ready by tomorrow so you can vet them ecetera over the weekend."

Farkle nodded to each of Curtis's points in agreeance.

"How is our weekend looking?"

Curtis nodded at the question he expected.

"The weekend is clear as you requested."

"Good," smiled Farkle as he straightened his jacket. "We need the weekend break to recharge."

Grace approached both men.

"Captain Banks is about to start the landing cycle, Mister Minkus."

Farkle nodded in acknowledgement as he patted a hand in thanks on Curtis's shoulder before taking his seat and fastening his seat belt. His mind wandered momentarily as he looked out the window at the cloud formation the jet was about to start its descent through. He was leading a remarkable life. Here he was at nearly twenty-nine years of age, travelling the world in a private jet, indulging his passion of science and discovery while leading a significant Research and Development division of his father's multinational company. A lot of people he knew and others who knew of him were always in awe and amusingly jealous of his lifestyle. Farkle's thoughts faltered.

If they only knew.

Farkle missed and craved the friendships he once had. Working tirelessly, moving all over the globe and satisfying his internal drive to not be compared to or be seen as riding on his father's coat tails left him working harder and longer than others. It also meant he had to sacrifice those dearest to him. He hadn't wanted for the deterioration to be in a nasty or malicious way either, it just seemed to happen gradually over time. The close group of six who he graduated from high school were at first inseparable. They had dreams of staying together, no matter what surfaced so they could support each other as they flourished into adult hood and college.

But within a couple of months, the small cracks in their group began to show.

Life does happen Riley had said one evening, years before when he brought his concerns up with her.

But not like this he thought in the present. Farkle looked at his phone, flicking it open and began to ponder. The two people in the photo looking back at him were laughing.

They were happy.

They were developing feelings for each other that were feelings of more than just best friends. And they were loving that feeling, the exploration of a deeper desire that always seemed to be there before but never challenged, not to the level they were when the picture was taken.

Farkle smiled a sad smile of love lost, before he closed the smart phone down, settling in for the slight turbulence ahead before landing, all the while not realising that Curtis was watching him with concern. The minder had secured his seat belt and watched the body language of the younger man in the seat diagonally opposite him. Farkle was starting to break, that much he was certain. He was older than Farkle, he knew what was going through his boss's mind. During the long hauls, endless meetings and hotel meals they had spoken of such things and Curtis knew whenever he looked at his smartphone, the body language followed.

The body language of someone who loved.

Who still loved.

It was the same body language that Curtis used to have when he met his now wife Kate. Curtis smiled as he remembered their conversation about his boss one rare evening together.

You're just a romantic old sap, Kate would say as they curled up on their couch with each other, just enjoying the body contact, listening to each other's breathing, each other's heartbeats and the silent calm that came from lovers at peace. Curtis met Kate when he in his senior year at high school, although she a year younger. They fell for each other the moment they laid eyes on each other and survived through thick and thin. His wife was his best friend, and he believed with all his heart that that was the only way to be.

Curtis tightened his lap belt firmly and resolved to talk with Farkle about what was happening.

This isn't right, what is happening to you my friend. There has to be a way.