AN: Yay pointless filler only used to lure readers into a false sense of "It's going to have a happy ending."

For those wondering, yes, the song "Looking for Alaska" had a point. And those who know the lyrics, Nikki has green eyes for a reason.

No owning here. It's called FAN fiction for a reason. Use some common sense.

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rocketman

I woke up to a subtle beep from my computer, whose screen had purred to life, an IM on the screen. I checked my phone, recognizing the font as Nikki's. She'd only IM me if I never replied to her texts, Sure enough, there was four texts, spread out over an hour, asking where I was and what I was up to.

Rocketman, where are you?!

The screen asked me. I smirked and lazily typed back: sleeping.

A few seconds later came her reply: Sleep is over-rated. Come on love, run with me. =]

I stared at the screen, unable to think up a response to that. Then, after a half minute, she IMed me saying, get the hell out of that house. And bring your guitar.

Now THAT I knew how to respond to. The park?

Is there anywhere else we can go, Rocket?

I smiled, knowing she didn't expect a reply. Grabbing my guitar case and slipping on a pair of Vans on which Nikki had colored rainbows, I didn't even care it was three in the morning. We had done this before, snuck out of our houses and gone to the park to play guitar together and talk and actually hang out. What with basketball practice and my grades, my parents weren't eager to let me date. So I just said Nikki was a really good friend and she was helping me in Science and math (not a lie) and they never thought any more of it.

Sliding open my window, I slid the guitar case ever so carefully onto the little awning roof, then slipped out myself. Closing the window, I let myself slide down to the rain gutter, then slowly lowered the guitar onto the patio table's umbrella, and then I jumped down. Grabbing the guitar, I ran down the driveway and cut through Mr. Grayson's yard, heading straight for the old park.

"Hey, Rocket," Nikki greeted me, staring at a lyric sheet in front of her and testing some chords. "How's it?"

"More dangerous," I replied, sitting beside her and taking out my own guitar. "The 'rents are talking about selling the patio table for a basketball hoop. I mean, that's awesome, but then I wouldn't be able to get here with all six strings attached." She laughed at this, and I smirked, tuning the strings to her E. Then I went through the intro to Beauty in the Breakdown.

"How's rehearsals with Kelsi and Ryan?" I asked her. She had been asked by Ms. Darbus to help out in the composition of the Spring production. Nikki shrugged.

"Kels practically has every freaking instrument part written. There's nothing for me to do."

"Oh. I'm sorry," I replied.

She just smiled, giving another shrug, this one conveying "That's the way the cookie crumbles." I nodded in agreement. "So," Nikki broke the silence. She leaned in really close to me, and I thought we were going to kiss again, but instead she just tapped the tip of my nose and whispered, "Tag. You're it." I could feel her breath, warm against my face on the, let's face it, chilly morning. Then she stood and ran off to the swing set. Laughing, I chased after her.

"Nikki! Get back here!" I shouted, breaking into a full sprint, but she made a quick spin and headed back the other direction.

"That defeats the purpose of the game, Rocketman!" she replied, laughing. I caught up to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her up off the ground, spinning her around and then set her back down. Nikki screamed out, laughing her head off. "Okay, okay, you caught me."

"Damn right I did," I told her, then spun her around to face me, kissing her softly and pulling her into a tight embrace.

---x---

nikki

I couldn't sleep. Not with what Dr. Bensen had called with earlier. It was three hours, four minutes, and 26 seconds into the morning, but of course I wasn't counting. I stared at the laptop screen on my desk across the room. Benen had called with my test results only… Five hours, fifty minutes ago. He called around 8:15 p.m., and now I can't sleep. I graoned, walking to the laptop and opening a new IM conversation with the Rocketman.

HEY. GET UP. I messaged him. I let a few seconds go by before typing, You aren't replying to my texts, Zara. Now where the hell are you?

He replied four minutes later. sleeping.

Sleep is over-rated. Come on love, run with me. I typed, pressing enter and staring at the screen. When he didn't reply, I told him, get the hell out of that house. And bring your guitar.

He replied quickly this time: the park?

I smiled, trying not to laugh. My guitar already packed up, I typed to him, Is there anywhere else we can go, Rocket? I hit enter and crawled out the window onto the damp morning grass.

I walked to the park where Jimmie and I went almost every night. It was the only place we could really just be together. Without worrying about anyone walking in on us in the theatre, without worrying about being late to class, without his parents not letting him date and my parents thinking Rocket was a brain dead, compassionate-less, talentless hack. Without any of the "you're too young for love" crap. Love is love. It comes when it comes.

"Hey Rocket," I said, not looking up from my lyric sheet. I just couldn't put this to music. "How's it?" I asked him.

"Dangerous," he laughed. He sat beside me, taking his guitar out of it's case. "The 'rents are talking about selling the patio table for a basketball hoop. I mean, that's awesome, but then I wouldn't be able to get here with all six strings attached." I laughed, knowing he didn't mean for this to be funny. But it kind of was, in the way he said it. But I dunno. It's 3 AM. Maybe I'm just tired. He tuned to my E, and then idly played the intro of our song.

"How's rehearsals with Kelsi and Ryan?" He asked me out of nowhere. Ms. Darbus had asked me to help Kelsi and Ryan with the musical's composition, but I wasn't really needed. I shrugged.

"Kels practically has every freaking instrument part written. There's nothing for me to do."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Jimmie told me.

I smiled at how cute he was. Just the way he looked at me made me want to giggle. I tried hard not to laugh, shrugging again. That's the way the cookie crumbles, I thought. He nodded, as if in agreement. "So," I said, breaking the silence. I leaned in really close to the Rocketman, and I think he thought we weregoing to kiss, but I had a different idea. Tapping the tip of his nose, I whispered, "Tag. You're it." Then I stood and ran off to the swing set. Laughing, Rocket chased after me.

"Nikki! Get back here!" he shouted, breaking into a full sprint, but I spun pretty quickly and ran back towards our guitars.

"That defeats the purpose of the game, Rocketman!" I shouted back to him, laughing. He did catch up to me, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. I'll admit, I screamed a bit, but then he lifted me off the ground, spun around in a circle, and set me back down. Laughing hard as ever, I whispered, "Okay, okay, you caught me."

"Damn right I did," Jimmie told me, then spun me around to face him, kissing me softly and pulling me into a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder.

I felt normal. I felt like I used to. I felt awesome, and I wasn't dizzy, or seeing double, or on the verge of throwing up.

I felt like I did before I was diagnosed with Brain Stem Glioma.

I felt like I did before I was diagnosed with cancer.