I'm Baaaaack...

Thank you, and welcome, to everyone new who jumped on board, including AmyTheTattooed, bellarhodes, Anguluh, and anyone I may have missed.

Onward!

Spring in Philadelphia was an unforgiving thing. Thinly tepid during the day, it often gave way to a wet chill that bordered on frost during the night. It was that chill that sucked forcefully into McCaffrey's when Nick opened the door; it didn't care what tablecloth it fluttered or whose coffee it cooled. Licking around Brena's ankles, the gust of air was just enough to shift her attention away from the long hall Meredith ran down, and over toward the entrance. 'People know not to stand there with the door open when it's cold out – that's one of the perks of McCaffrey's. The fireplace. Keeps the heat up.' She glanced over her shoulder as she put down the brownie, then froze in shock, only half-seated in the booth with her now-free hand holding the edge of the table. The other hand had the good sense to release her latte over the table, rather than over the floor. The glass mug landed with a bang, and the sound was enough to jolt the people in the coffee shop back into motion.

All of them except Nick and Brena.

The barista crept around the end of the counter, watching Nick and Brena as they eyed each other warily, finally getting close enough to Nick to lift his hand from the door handle and push it closed behind him. Not knowing what to say to the interloper near the entrance, or to the sudden mute who had now managed to seat herself properly in the third booth on the left, the barista shrugged and shuffled back behind the counter, not wanting the line of customers to grow any longer than it already was.

Nick didn't know what to do. He stood there for what felt like an eternity, blocking the doorway, staring at Brena – and she was staring right back at him – until another person tried unsuccessfully to barge through. Whoever it was slammed the door into him, snapping the back of his head into the door and jolting him a few feet forward. The sudden motion seemed to jolt something loose in Brena as well, and she rushed up to Nick, who was rubbing the back of his head.

"Nick! Nick. Oh my goodness. Come here, sit down. You've hit your head, and I-"

Try as she might – and Brena was pulling mightily on Nick, trying to guide him by his shoulder and elbow, to turn him toward her booth – Nick refused to budge. His hand slowly dropped from the back of his head and came to rest against the side of Brena's face, fingers playing at the feather-edges of her hair. He squinted down at her, almost unsure of who he was seeing, until Brena shifted her hands to cover Nick's. Then, butter-soft skin and warm memories of ginger and smoke flooded his senses, and he locked his arms around her so firmly that Brena felt her shoulders grind due to the force with which he was compressing her against his chest.

Fear was the last emotion Nick was expecting, but as soon as he snatched Brena into his arms, he felt a nauseating wave of it overtake him. 'I just got hit in the head. That door is really fuckin' heavy and it hit me in the head. I'm gonna look down and it's not gonna be her, it's gonna be some woman who's scared as shit, doesn't know me, and thinks I'm fuckin' crazy.' Daring himself to hunt for clues that it was Brena he'd grabbed, he leaned down into the crook of her neck, angling so her hair would fall against his face, and breathed deeply. 'It's her. It's ginger and smoke and that time we fell asleep together on my bed and it's gotta be her.'

As if she was reading Nick's mind, Brena tilted ever so slightly, so she could speak quietly to him – she knew she wasn't getting out of his vice-grip until he chose to let go.

"Yes, mo trodaire. You've found me."

Nick still couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, even as he loosened his arms and let her turn back toward her booth. He managed a few blind steps forward, Brena holding his hand to guide him, before he thought he could test reality's limits by actually looking at her. She glanced over her shoulder as they walked, acutely aware of how many sets of eyes were focused on them – the patrons in the coffee shop were curious as to who had blocked the door and then pounced on Brena – but she chose to ignore the stares and continue to walk. 'After the ridiculous thing I did to him before I left, I owe him this much. At least a conversation, or an explanation. An apology and some finality.'

Slowly, Nick sank into the booth across from Brena, and reached across the table for her hands. Brena moved as cautiously as Nick, and he closed his hands tightly around hers when she offered them.

"Nick, I...it's..." She trailed off, entirely unsure of where to start or how to continue if she did manage to put together a coherent opening sentence.

"Bren, you're really...here...right?"

Brena looked up and crinkled an eyebrow before squeezing Nick's hands. "Of course I am. I told you, mo trodaire, you've found me. Heaven only knows how, though I imagine we have Meredith to thank for that. Well, her, and whomever brought you here tonight," She paused for a second, knowing she was rambling, but pressed on regardless, "Oh...oh, no...Nick, you didn't walk here, did you? There's no hotels around here, you must've walked for blocks if you came by foot. The only arena is miles from here. Here, I can dri-"

"I called you."

Brena snapped her mouth closed, feeling her eyes go wide and the room become just a bit too bright for its own good. "Nick...you couldn't have. I know I gave you my number, but I never got a phone call from you. Not the day of the media event, and not the day of..." 'Brena, stop. Stop speaking until you've had a chance to think. You're being impulsive and look at what a mess you made of things last time you decided to be rash.'

"It was..." Nick cleared his throat, and Brena squeezed his hands again trying to urge him on, "It was the day of the funeral reception. I don't know who answered your phone – it wasn't you – but I didn't get to leave a message. It..." Nick thought for a second, debating whether or not to throw Meredith under the bus for not telling Brena that he'd called, "It was loud where you were, and shit was going on at the hospital so it was loud there, too, and whoever answered your phone hung up on me."

Brena pulled one hand from his much more roughly than she meant, and it flew to cover her mouth. Her eyes were now almost painfully wide, and Nick wrapped both of his hands around the one she'd been kind enough to leave in his grip, though she'd started to turn and slide down the booth.

"Bren, don't."

Frantic, Brena looked toward the hallway Meredith disappeared down long ago, then the door, and then finally back at Nick, slowly dropping her hand from her mouth, "Don't...don't what?"

"I dunno. Don't leave? Don't be angry? We fixed it, right? I mean, you're here, I'm here – my fuckin' head hurts, but I'm here – and I mean...it's enough, you know? This is okay now, right?" Carefully, he let go of Brena's hand long enough to slide her latte and long-forgotten brownie to the back of the table, then reached for her again.

"This never should have happened," Brena whispered as she slid back properly into the booth. She swallowed hard, trying to find strength to put into her voice, "You were absolutely silent. It was easier when I thought you just didn't call – like you'd moved on. I didn't have your number and Meredith wasn't allowed to give it to me from your chart; some sort of medical rule. You say you called, but then you never called me again. We're here now, but...Nick, it's been clear for some time that you moved on from our..." Brena stopped to take a breath, her words full of pressure and urgency as they left her, and she was lost in thought as she exhaled. 'Oh, Lord love a duck, what do I call it? It wasn't a relationship. I was indulgent, it was wishful thinking, and then that ridiculous kiss. Let him go away from this with a clean conscience.' Shaking her head and preparing to continue, she started again. "You've made it clear you've moved on from whatever our relationship...er...friendship was, at Magee. I was intrusive, I overstepped my boundaries when I kissed you, I wasn't thinking clearly, I was grieving, and-"

Nick had held Brena's hand through her entire speech, listening with what he hoped was a patient and respectful look on his face. Suddenly, he slid his hand up to her wrist and yanked, pulling her forward over the table just as he lunged forward with what he knew was equal and unnecessary speed. His aim wasn't the best; he came in a bit low and connected more with her chin than her lips – worrying that he'd end up banging his teeth into hers was an unnecessary concern. He persevered, loosening his grip on her wrist and starting to circle his thumb there gently, to rub away the red mark he was fairly sure he'd created. Nick knew he couldn't try to keep Brena over the table for too long; the angle would be terrible for her shoulders while she held herself up, but in the moment, he couldn't stop himself from kissing her – and miraculous wonder, she was kissing him in return.

Brena knew she was rambling at Nick. She didn't know what she was trying to prove, to explain, but there she was, insisting, no, telling him, he'd moved on. Meanwhile, the back of her mind demanded she stop denying her feelings, that she tell Nick she missed him terribly – and more. Brena wasn't prepared for the motion that suddenly came from him while she engaged in her inner war, and she had to brace herself against the edge of the table to keep from falling over, her shoulder giving up a warning twinge as she flew forward toward Nick. She tried to dodge him at the last possible second, but it was no use. Suddenly, the back of her mind, ever so used to being muzzled and tamped down, came cartwheeling forward, joyful and wild, thoughts and actions swarming into her consciousness like bees from a hive, and she realized – she wanted to kiss him. And so, she did.

"Did she move yet, or does she still look like she's gonna have a heart attack?" Meredith, having run out of McCaffrey's through the back door and around the block, now leaned against the cafe's plate glass window, trying to angle herself just-so to avoid the reflection and be able to see what Brena was doing without being spotted herself.

Claudio was faring no better after returning from his vehicle; the glare from the nearby street lamp made it difficult to see Nick's expression, despite being tall enough to have a good angle. "I am not sure, Fraulein. It might be best if we go in. This does not seem to be going as well as we hoped."

"Nope. They have to figure this shit out themselves. Bren's been dancing around this for months, she's gotta get it out of her system." Meredith latched her fingers firmly into Claudio's coat sleeve; she knew she couldn't really prevent him from going in to McCaffrey's if he got it in his head to do so, but she felt like she should try to plead her case, "And think of all the shit Nick's put you through. He's gotta think this through on his own, not go running to you for all the answers. It's not like he's listening to what you're sayin', anyway."

Claudio nodded, but a puzzled look crossed his face soon after. "Fraulein, you said Brena is dancing again? You had said she was staying only in the brownstone, was she not? Or is this another one of your...Americanisms, as you say? I do not understand how she would dance around an issue. An issue is not an object."

Meredith turned her attention away from the window, where Nick and Brena had still not moved, chuckled, and squeezed herself even tighter against Claudio, "Yep. One of those Americanisms. You remember the one about the mountain and the molehill, when we talked about setting this up?"

"Not so clearly, but I believe I do remember enough. Why do you ask, pfirsich?" Claudio turned her in his arms, but she brushed his hands off of her and adjusted her coat firmly.

"We're about to start some movin', but if I need more oomph you're gonna have to help me on the second try. Just watch inside the window and tell me how I did." Meredith peered through the window one last time to be sure Nick was the only person standing in front of the door inside the cafe, walked over, and lined herself up with the entrance. Taking a deep breath, she backed up to the very edge of the curb, directly against the road, and took off at a dead run. She shoulder-checked the door as hard as she could, slamming it as far forward as her short-yet-stout frame would allow – it was an inches-thick oak door – and directly into Nick's back.

"Mein Gott!" Claudio immediately abandoned his position at the window and ran over to Meredith, who was rubbing her shoulder and trying to decide if she wanted to grin or grimace. "You will break your arm! Your shoulder! What was the purpose of such a thing? There is a handle on the door if you wanted to purchase a coffee!" He fussed over her shoulder and elbow, but Meredith brushed him off and trotted over to the window.

"Mountain, meet molehill. You wanted to know the purpose, come take a look." She gestured at the window, and Claudio couldn't resist a smile of his own once he looked inside – Nick, having been shoved forward by Meredith's door-tackle, had Brena in his arms. From the looks of things, he might have been holding her a titch too hard for breathing, but he was holding her all the same.

"Our work here is done, Switzerland. Time for dinner," Meredith spun around in front of Claudio and made an exaggerated, grand gesture down the sidewalk, "And, I don't want them to catch us out here. They'll figure it out eventually, anyhow, but let them have tonight."

"Let us have tonight as well, Fraulein," Claudio directed a devilish expression at Meredith as he escorted her his vehicle and opened the door, "I can assure you, it will be...full of purpose."