The colour drained from Aelita's face, leaving two puffs of unnatural rouge on her cheeks. "What?" she hissed. She swerved around to face Jeremie. "How did this happen, I thought you --"

"So did I," Jeremie replied coolly. It was almost fascinating to see him dissect the situation with systematic grace, mulling over a thousand scenarios ceaselessly and seamlessly, discarding and retaking each one, reshaping until it suited him. He turned to Ulrich, "I imagine there's a fire escape somewhere in this complex, where is it?"

"Uh," he was pale, jittery. "I'm not sure. I never really thought the place would catch on fire, you know? I know there's a staircase to the roof in the back --"

"That's fine," Jeremie interjected eyes bright. This was the face of a boy who was winning, who no one knew was winning, who lived for victory and the shock and admiration it brought. "Go up to the roof," he instructed. "Aelita and I will go to greet your mother."

"Hey, what about me?" Odd complained. "What do I get to do? Smuggle the love birds out of the building? Swing down on a chandelier and land on Ulrich's father? Stall by flirting with the receptionist...?

Jeremie ignored his outrageously inappropriate commentary, "You are going to do the most important job of all."

"Really?" Odd asked, interested. It was so painfully obvious that he lived for the spotlight and died without it. "What do I get to do?"

"You get to stay here," Jeremie said flatly. "You must arrange everything so it looks as if Ulrich has not been here in a few days. Can you do that?"

Odd eyed a pile of dishes in the sink, "Sure," he said at last. "Will do."

"Alright," Jeremie affirmed. "We have little time. Aelita," he gave her a pointed look. "Let's go. Yumi, Ulrich -- good luck. Odd, you know what to do."

Odd mock saluted the pair as Jeremie and Aelita exited through the front door.

"C'mon," Ulrich grasped Yumi's hand, pulling her towards the door. "We don't have much time."

"Ulrich," Yumi protested as he locked the door from outside, habitually and unconsciously. "Why can't I just stay and meet them? What's the big deal?"

Ulrich hurried her along the white washed walls of the corridor, "Have you ever seen those really bad soaps on tv, where the parents try to sabotage the protagonists by killing one of them or blackmailing them, or whatever?"

"Um," Yumi skimmed her memory. "Sometimes, when I'm bored."

"Yeah," Ulrich said as the elevator opened. A shiny row of silver buttons with corresponding key slots were muted against the opaque silver. "It's something like that."

"I don't think that...," Yumi trailed off, remember that this was Ulrich, after all. Anything was possible. The elevator rose smoothly, and when Yumi pressed her hand to the walls, the smudges of her fingerprints stayed behind.

"Where are we going?"

Ulrich teased the seat belt into it's appropriate slot, "Somewhere I can ditch this car. Then, we can take a taxi somewhere else."

Yumi thought she might be dreaming. "What for?" she hissed. "Ulrich, I don't care how scary your parents are, they are not the mafia --"

"I wouldn't be too surprised," Ulrich retorted dryly. "My car has a GPS tracker in it; I know this because my father told me the day he gave it to me. It's the only thing he didn't take away, but I think that's because it was already shipped overseas when he decided to disown me. That, and he has so many he probably forgot about it. In other words, if I don't want him to find me, I need to get as far away from this car as possible."

"Why didn't you just have it removed?" Yumi asked as Ulrich made a sharp turn. It knocked the breath out of her lungs, she made a quiet curse.

"Jeremie was going to," Ulrich paused, and Yumi knew he was driving aimlessly. It made her restless. "-- but, we got into an argument before I left and he never got around to it."

"What?" Yumi gasped as he made another severe turn. "An argument about what?"

"The specifics are a little blurry, but it was between Odd, Aelita and Jeremie and I sort of sided with the wrong person," he smiled crookedly. "I'm not sure that Jeremie has forgiven me for that yet."

The specifics are a little blurry was a nice way of saying I'd rather not talk about it. The topic of the argument was pretty obvious. Or not. It was hard to tell with those three. Comparatively speaking, Yumi had, had a relatively easy set of woes. She should be thankful. Or at least, she would be, if she wasn't being hunted down by the in-laws from hell.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is going on with --"

"I'd rather you didn't ask," Ulrich interrupted. "Sorry, but, it's complicated."

Yumi allowed herself a curt, nervous laugh. "That sounded like a cheesy line from a bad soap," she quipped.

"Sounds like you watch soaps more than just sometimes."

"Whatever," Ulrich didn't need to know that Yumi had harbored a slight hope that Doctor Roberts and Minnie would realize that they were meant for each other. It was her first week in New York and she had been bored. Without cable, she'd gotten three channels at best and the other two were otherwise occupied with court shows and jerry springer. Desperate times called for desperate measures but not that desperate.

"How do you feel about staying at a motel?" Ulrich asked, abruptly. Yumi gave him a look that told him exactly how she felt about staying at a motel. He didn't bring it up again. "We can't stay at a hotel," he informed her. "I don't have any cash on me -- just credit cards, and my father would find us in a heartbeat."

"Ulrich, I still think that I should --"

"I like you nice and alive," Ulrich said as he swerved to the right. "Besides, take pity on me, I've already lost one eye, I don't want to lose another."

Yumi dismissed his comment, privately admitting that the swelling around his eye had worsened. "Let's go to my apartment," Yumi offered. "Your parents don't know where I live -- they don't even know who I am."

"Yeah," Ulrich admitted. "Though I admit, this wasn't how I wanted you to invite me to spend the night."

Yumi gave him a withering look. "Or," she offered. "You can drop me off at my house and go hide under a bridge."

Ulrich raised his hands in surrender.

"Hey!" Yumi exclaimed. "I like myself nice and alive too."

Ulrich's hands retreated back unto the steering wheel. "Sorry," he replied. "I already told you that I can't think when you're around."

"Great," Yumi rolled her eyes. "So if we get into a car accident, it's all my fault?"

"Something like that."

There was a pause in conversation and Yumi's hands dampened as they slid down the windows, tracing circular shapes aimlessly.

"Ulrich," she caught his peripheral as he pressed on the accelerator slightly. "You know, you're parents aren't going to disappear. You can't run from there forever."

"Sure I can," Ulrich said ruefully, there was a bitterness in his voice that Yumi was startled to hear. So, the perfect boy was starting to disintegrate. She still loved him, she couldn't bring herself not to.

And that was the problem wasn't it? No matter how many messes he dragged her into, no matter how many secrets he dug up, how many lies were exposed, how utterly fucked up he resulted to be, she was too involved to ever get out.

"They love you," Yumi started. "I'm sure that they --"

"What about your parents?" Ulrich interrupted.

"What about them?" Yumi's voice was cold, hard.

Yumi's apartment complex was indistinguishable in the dark. It hurt and the distance was pointless. Deleting messages on her answering machine was pointless. Pushing it into the corner of her mind was pointless.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have --" Ulrich faltered. "Yumi, are you alright?"

"What?" Yumi asked, uncomprehending. Ulrich's forefinger brushed against the corner of her eye. He always made her cry and she never understood why. "Oh."

"Oh," Ulrich echoed her regret.

How ironic. She was the girl who didn't need anyone and he was the boy who had everything and it wasn't enough.

"I heard you scream."

"Whaa--," Yumi twisted the cotton sheets clumsily. Ulrich seemed to tower at the foot of her bed, shadows crossing his cheekbone and the length of his arm. Yumi's mouth felt dry. "What screams?"

The entire bed creaked in protest as Ulrich seated himself. "You have nightmares," he informed her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't have nightmares," Yumi protested blearily.

"You want a glass of water?" Ulrich asked as he stood.

"You don't even know where the cups are at," Yumi laughed.

Ulrich shrugged, "I'm sure I can figure it out. Oh, and Yumi?"

"Yes?"

Ulrich gave her his trademark half smile, which set a couple of alarms off in Yumi's head.

"Sorry about your door..."

"I can't believe you broke my door down."

"You were screaming," Ulrich explained. "I thought something might be wrong. Is it my fault that you locked your door?"

"The hinges are still standing," Yumi murmured absently as she sipped the water Ulrich had so graciously handed to her as she continued to stare at the remains of her bedroom door. "I didn't even hear you break it down..."

"You were still screaming when I came in," Ulrich added. "I'll replace it, if you want."

Yumi nodded mutely.

"Are you going to tell me what you were dreaming about?"

Yumi raised her eyes to Ulrich and her lips thinned to a one eighty, "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Is this your way to get back at me for not telling you about Aelita, Odd, and Jeremie?"

Yumi thought about it. "A little," she confessed.

"We can do a trade-off," Ulrich suggested. "You tell me about your nightmare, I'll tell you about Aelita, Odd, and Jeremie."

She could make up some pseudo dream, fabricate something that Ulrich would believe, or pretend to believe. The safety she would gain by hiding her true nightmares which translated into her true weaknesses didn't appeal to her as much as she thought it would. This was new. Yumi allowed herself a moment to enjoy the sensation of not caring what Ulrich thought about her. Or, maybe, it wasn't that she didn't care so much as that she knew that instead of criticize and demean her, he would help her feel better about it. The concept of someone whose only purpose was to build you up instead of knocking you down was amazing.

"Okay," Yumi said slowly. "Deal."

"Alright," Ulrich said with a frown. "I suppose I owe you -- and your door -- to start first."

"Yes," Yumi was all rapt attention. "Go on."

"Well, it all started a couple of months ago..."

For a few days things were relatively peaceful. They developed a routine; Ulrich would make coffee and Yumi would complain about the cold as Ulrich humored her with a smile. Sometimes they huddled together on the couch and watched the morning soap operas, mocking the outrageously overdone acting and the equally bad script. Sometimes Ulrich drove her to school and Yumi thought about him all day, wondering what he was doing, if he was still inside, or if he had dared to venture outside lest he run into his parents. Sometimes they would go and have coffee in the bakery in which they met, careful to evade the receptionist that Yumi knew, if she saw them together, wouldn't let her hear the end of it.

"But I thought she was nice?"

"Shut up," Yumi said, not unkindly as she buttoned the cuff of his coat. "You don't know what you're talking about."

A week passed and Yumi swore that at any moment existing like this would give away to some great dissonance, that it couldn't possibly be this good for so long. That something wrong had to happen.

On the tenth day of their self made utopia, of the fantasy of playing house that had persisted, a fantasy that had become paramount to Yumi's happiness, the world came to a stop. And so did Ulrich's heart.