"You're wondering who I am"

Aaron Pitman looked out of the floor length glass window surrounding his bedroom. The city moved below him. The traffic rushing, the people milling. The world, awake. He sipped his coffee. It tasted particularly good this morning.

He checked his shirt in the mirror, and caught sight of Priscilla struggling to pull up a zip in the walk in wardrobe behind him. Turning he went to help her.

"With parts made in Japan"

"Thank sweetie… busy day today?" she asked, pulling her hair over one shoulder to allow him access to the zip. He nodded, concentrating on not pulling the delicate fabric.

"All done?" she asked, and he suddenly realised he had finished, and was dreaming, holding her shoulders. He let go and stepped back. Something felt off, he just wasn't sure what exactly. The hum of the TV kept giving him small shocks, as gunfire sounded from commercial, or loud music. It grated on him, and he felt strangely on edge. Probably the big meeting he had, the presentation, that must be it, he thought pushing the stray feelings aside.

Priscilla had started looking for shoes, rustling around in the spotlight recesses of the enormous storage unit, which neither of them used much.

He caught a glimpse of a flicker of green, reflected in the mirror behind him, and turned around, surprised to see the electronic light glowing from the darkness of the wardrobe, but when he did, it was gone.

"Aaron? Are you ready?" Priscilla was asking him, her tone growing a little exasperated. He nodded mutely, gripping his coffee mug, and following his wife from their room, throwing one last glance at the reflective cavern behind him.

"Charlie, just come by for dinner, it wouldn't hurt, you haven't been home in weeks. I'll make your favourite"

"You mean you'll order my favourite, right?" Charlie teased, and could almost imagine the frustrated look on her mother's face at her words.

"Danny would love to see you..." Rachel said, the magic words, and Charlie sighed internally. Her mom was pulling out the big guns.

"Are you going to come?" Rachel asked, after a pregnant pause. Charlie paused in wiping the bar top as she questioned whether she could really manage it.

"I have to work at 10… so… I could do an early dinner, I guess"

"Your enthusiasm is overwhelming. Can you manage the desert?" Rachel said, her tone brusque now she had accomplished what she wanted.

"Sure – ice-cream it is" Charlie said, childishly picking the easiest and least effort desert she could think of.

"Wonderful, and pick up some extra… your uncle Miles might be coming" Charlie stopped moving at that, her heartbeat picking up. There was only one reason Miles might be coming, and it was the closest Charlie and her mother had come to mentioning why today was so important.

She cleared her throat, and spoke softly.

"Sure, anything else?"

"He'll probably bring Bass, especially today… so, just make sure you get enough ice-cream" Rachel finished, and Charlie nodded, before she remembered her mother couldn't see her.

"Sure thing. I gotta go mom. See you tonight" she said and hung up abruptly.

"`I saw her today at the reception, a glass of wine in her hand"

The Stones serenaded her as stretched her arms out on the bar top and sighed. She caught a reflection of the twinkling fairy lights strung around the bar in the reflection in the wood. Green, and white, they winked at her, as she studiously avoided thinking more about dinner. It was just dinner. That's all. Dinner with her uncle, on the anniversary of her father's death.

"You sure you wanna work tonight? I can cover you?" asked Jason, her co-worker as he opened the glass washer, laying out a towel to start wiping them down.

"You can't always get what you want"

She took another moment and when she looked back up and gave him a smile, her eyes were dry.

"It's fine. Seriously."

"Buddy, are you sure you wanna do that right before dinner… you know Rachel, she'll smell it on you" Bass said, as he glanced over at his best friend Miles, who was currently rifling through the bag they'd picked up at the grocery store, and cracking the seal on a bottle of Jack.

He drove carefully, thinking the last thing he needed was to be pulled over with Miles drinking Jack from the bottle in the front next to him.

The city lights were blurred across the windscreen as a misty rain fell. The wipers thumped in the silence that stretched between them. Feeling jumpy, he reached forward and flipped on the radio.

Commentators babbled about sports, he switched to news, more depressing, he decided and snapped it off. They had almost arrived anyway, he figured. Time for a pep talk.

"So, this is nice, seeing your family for dinner, right?" he asked, hopefully, pulling up to the curb of the gracious townhouse the Mathesons called home. He shut the ignition off, and waited in the following silence for a response. He got a grunt and a swig of a bottle.

He shifted in his seat and looked over to his friend, who was slouched down, his feet on the dash and bottle cradled between his knees.

"Hey, ease up. We're here, in case you haven't noticed. If you wanna get wrecked, let's go out and do it right, after dinner" Bass reasoned with him, trying to pry the bottle from his grasp. Miles gave it up without much of a fight, something Bass took as a positive sign, and he smiled, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"There we go… better already." He said, still smiling as he turned around and caught sight of a figure approaching the house from the opposite direction.

The sidewalk was wet with rain, and a fine mist had settled on her pulled up hood, dampening the ends of her long hair, sticking from the bottom. Charlies' hands were jammed in her pockets, and her boots were squeaking slightly against the wet tarmac. She glanced up, seeing a familiar car sitting at the curb, but before her eyes could lock with anyone inside it, she swung her head back down, the curtain or her hair and her hood concealing her expression. She saw her childhood house ahead, and turned up the stairs, jogging up energetically, the bag with the carton of ice-cream swinging as she ascended. Pushing open the door, without knocking, she disappeared inside.

Bass unscrewed the top of the bottle, and took a long swig, welcoming the burn of scotch of as it seared down his throat. His eyes now rested on the closed door. He felt himself being watched and turned to see Miles giving him a narrow look.

"Well, are we going or not?" he asked, and Bass capped the bottle, threw it in the back and got out the car, grabbing the grocery bag from Miles' feet as he went. Together they headed toward the house.

"Danny's resting before dinner, don't be too noisy" Rachel warned as she quietly set out plates and serving bowls, which she indicated to Charlie to begin transferring take out food into. Charlie dutifully started the tedious process, putting the empty containers in the trash after.

"Why do you bother? Just serve it in the containers, it's not like Miles will care… or even notice" Charlie muttered as she washed and dried her hands on a towel. Rachel was about to answer, when the doorbell rang and the both looked toward the entrance hall, than back at each other.

"That's what you're wearing?" Rachel asked pointedly as she untied a completely unnecessary apron from around her waist and smoothed her hair back. Charlie knew her tight, low slung black jeans and fitted vest was a world apart from her mother's little black dress.

"I don't have time to change before work" Charlie muttered, turning to pour some wine into a glass. Rachel stared at her wilful daughter a beat longer, and then went to answer the door.

Charlie heard male voices spill in from outside, one low and gruff, seemed to be doing all the talking. Bass. Miles was quiet, as usual these days, and Charlie frowned as she tried to remember what her uncle's voice sounded like when he was laughing, or even smiling. She sipped the cool dry white her mother favoured, rolled it around in her mouth, and steeled herself for the oncoming encounter. The voices moved closer, she heard her mother directing someone into the kitchen with a grocery bag, her soothing, hostess tones already grating on Charlie. She downed her glass of wine in one long swallow, and turned back to refill.

"Charlotte" Sebastian Monroe's voice had always unsettled her, it was always unexpected, full of knowing, even since she had been a teenager with a crush on her uncle's friend. She bit down a smile at his hesitant tone. Of course, he too, today, would be wary of her.

"Sebastian" she answered, her head cocked to the side, using his full name, as he had hers. He never seemed to age, she mused, as she watched him come into the kitchen, setting a bulging bag on the table. Perhaps it was that quality some men had, that charisma, that as they got older, they only got more attractive. She had seen it at work often enough, older men, a little world weary, a little beat up, a little disreputable, a little too cocky, who always drew the attention of the hottest young things in the bar. Maybe. If so, Monroe was definitely one of those guys, she mused as she watched him shake off his coat, revealing a button down underneath, rolled at the sleeves and dark jeans. He'd made an effort then, for tonight, for Miles, and for her father, it would seem. Because of that, she gave him a small grateful smile as she stepped forward and helped him unpack the bag.

"Where do you want it?" he asked, holding up a bag of some sort of fancy fruits. She caught his eye as he asked that, unable to stop a wicked smile curling her lip, her mind always in the gutter, she admonished herself as she waved her hand in a vague direction. He narrowed his eyes at her, tried to figure her out, but as always, it was impossible, unless she wanted him to. He turned to follow her direction, and set the fruit down, stopping himself from looking her over, the hints of tan skin and slender waist enough to make him uncomfortable over dinner.

"Charlie… How you doing kid?" she heard her uncle's voice from the door and smiled at him instinctively, going to him, and wrapping her arms around him. He didn't look so great, and it hurt to see it. She held on a moment longer than necessary, and when she pulled back, she felt the tremor of his hands on her back. She smiled up at him, and he blinked, caught in her brilliant blue stare.

"I'm alright… haven't seen you in a while. How come you guys never come and see me at work anymore?" she asked as she stepped back, though still touching his arm.

"You don't need two old men like us cramping your style" he said lamely, jumping when Bass appeared, clapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Hey, who are you calling old?" he complained as the three of them headed in the direction of the dining room.

Charlie looked at the back of her uncle's head, even that seemed defeated as she trailed after them. Dinner was certainly going to be long, she thought sourly.

Aaron gazed at his computer screen, the cursor was blinking steadily, and he suddenly realised he didn't know how long he had been staring. He took a deep breath, and rolled his shoulders, cracked his wrists, they ached where they had been poised over the keyboard. He stood up and made his way over to the Starbucks coffee booth they had in their office. In his office. His company. He reminded himself as he walked along the rows of computers, past giant screens, and couches and easy chairs, ping pong tables and table football. He had created his dream work environment, and he got to spend everyday there. The office was dark now, small pools of illumination lighting his way at intervals. He loved this time, when everyone else had gone, and he could work in silence and peace, not directing anyone, or making decisions. Just him and his computer.

He repeated his path moments later, clutching a coffee, sipping it slowly, enjoying it. He reached his glass walled office and stepped inside, sinking down into his chair again. Discarded headphones played a tiny melody and he slipped them on.

"I've got a secret I've been hiding under my skin
My heart is human, my blood is boiling, my brain IBM"

This song, it'd been stuck in his head all day, he though as he looked back at what he had been working on. He couldn't remember now, but there was a blank word document before him. He went to close it, about to click on losing the changes, when he noticed the page number in the bottom bar. Pages: 26 of 26. He frowned, clicking cancel and returning to the doc. 26 pages? He wondered if he had fallen asleep leaning on the keyboard.

He went to the navigation keys and scrolled up. Goosebumps started to pop up on his neck, crawling over his back, and the seemed to swarm over him as he saw writing, words even, the same ones, repeated over and over and over again. For countless times, stretched across the white page, their black little shapes rooting him to the spot.

26 pages with the same words, over and over again.

Words he had typed, though he had no memory of it.

An address.

"Come on Charlie, let us give you a lift… it's cold out here" Bass said, leaning back against the car, his hands in his pockets, tucked away to stop him from doing anything he shouldn't. Denim handcuffs.

He watched her, her head bowed, kicking at a leaf on the street, her long legs encased in some of the luckiest jeans he's ever seen, everything else hidden by a bulky coat, except her face. And what a face, he thought, unable to stop a smile coming to his lips as she suddenly looked up and caught his gaze on her, and gave him a suspicious look. Her cheeks were bright in the chilly air, and her breath puffed out, though her eyes were unclouded, despite what had just happened, he knew she was upset.

Danny hadn't made it down to dinner after all. Born with congenital heart and lung defects, Charlie's brother would never have a normal life, and it was practically a miracle he had survived as long as he had. Bass had waited downstairs as Miles had gone with Charlie to stop in and say hi. If possible, his friend had seemed to wilt even more before his eyes afterward.

"Come on, these mean streets aren't for a girl like you to be walking alone" Miles said, opening the passenger side door.

"I can take care of myself Miles." She responded, the colour heightening in her cheeks for a moment, as Miles shrugged and got in the car, the slam reverbing over them in the quiet night air. She stood awkwardly, and Bass stood up, reaching out to stop her as she started to turn away.

"Hey, we both know you can… just, let him have this one, tonight. Let him take care of you… for once" he reasoned, leaning down a little to catch her lowered gaze. She thought for a moment, checked her watch and then nodded.

"Fine." She sighed, following him back to the car.

"That's a good girl" he said, ducking away as she reached out to swat him for his condescending tone. He opened the driver's door, and pulled the seat back, standing aside to let her past, and withholding a groan as she climbed in, her especially fine ass in the air.

He fixed the seat, and sat down, closing the door with a bang, before turning to his two passengers with a smile.

"Buckle up" he said, and started the car. What a night, what a strange, awkward and long night, they had all endured. God knows why Rachel thought it a good idea to be together on the anniversary of Ben's death, it didn't seem to make anyone feel better, though he supposed they wouldn't know if they felt worse, considering she insisted on it every year. His eye caught Charlie's in the rear mirror, and couldn't help but marvel over how different she was. From her father, her mother and her brother. She was a survivor, she was tough, alright. She had a strength he didn't often meet in civilians. It was magnetic.

A car beeped in front of him, and he looked back at the lights, which had changed.

"Eyes on the road, Bass" Miles muttered, and Bass wondered wildly for a moment it he knew, if he suspected. But no, there was no way, how could there be? He told himself as they drove in silence toward Charlie's bar.

"You didn't have to come in Jason. I told you I'd be fine" Charlie said, without annoyance, she hoped, as she refilled the ice bin and crouched down, picking up stray runaways. Jason stood stiffly at the counter, his friends forgotten in a corner.

"I didn't just come in for you, Matheson. So self-absorbed." He muttered, but his tone was too strained to carry if off.

"Well, if you ever catch me coming here on my days off… shoot me" she said with a laugh and eye roll as she stood, brushing herself off and approaching a customer at the bar.

"What can I get you?" she asked, smiling up at the young couple.

Jason stood a few moments longer, and then reluctantly turned, going back to his friends, but still glancing over. Charlie busied herself in mixing the girls Cosmo, and kept her eyes away from the corner. The last thing she needed was to encourage him.

"He's got it bad… poor little guy" a dry voice came from the corner bar stood, in the deserted end of the bar, the bit with the tenders perch, where she stashed her books and read when it was quiet.

She shot a quelling glance over in that direction, and continued her intricate measuring.

Bass smiled, looking down, nursed his scotch, swirling it, warming it. It half amused him, half irritated him to see the young bartender smitten with Charlie. He could understand it, of course, but that didn't mean he liked it. He took a swig of his drink, and savoured the flavour. Charlie was letting him work his way along the top shelf whiskies, on the house, and this one was definitely worth another round.

He looked up, seeing the customers had gone, and saw Charlie wiping down the countertop, her slim arms lightly muscled, her face lost in contemplation. She glanced over at him, before returning to the glass shelves above the bar, and reaching up for a high up bottle. He wondered absently if half the cost of those top shelf brands were for a glimpse of that toned naval, and reckoned he'd probably be a connoisseur if that was the case.

She returned with a bottle, deep golden in colour, as she unscrewed the cork top, she put her nose above it and sniffed.

"Oaky flavour, vanilla undertones" she said, as she put a little in his glass. He followed along with her game, swirling it and then tasting it, before offering the glass to her. She studied him a moment, before casting a glance over to the booth where Miles had passed out, before leaning forward. He had expected her to take the glass, yet, instead, she leaned in and put her mouth directly on the glass rim, and waited for him to tilt it into her mouth. He did so slowly, savouring the eroticism of the moment, his eyes glued to her mouth, her pliant expression, her look of mischief. She swallowed and then leaned away, letting her tongue flick over her lips, lapping up every drop.

"Hmmm" she hummed deep in her throat, before reaching a fingertip up, to the corner of her lip and wiping off excess, and then sucking it of her finger. Bass knew she was just messing with him, but it didn't stop his mouth from drying up, his palms from damping or prevent him from having to shift around in his stool.

"Charlotte Matheson. Stop that right now. Or else" he warned, his deep voice deliciously full of threat, and she couldn't help but smile at it.

"Or else what?" she asked innocently.

"Or else… I'll wake your uncle up right now, and tell him all about it…" he warned.

"I'd love to see that" she challenged right back, and smiled at him as they held that look between them. He abruptly stood up, his stool scraping back, and he saw her eyes widen in surprise.

"Fine." He said, and ambled away from the bar.

"Bass!" she hissed from behind him, and he heard her hurrying after him around the end of the counter. She grabbed his arm when he was only a few meters away from the sleeping Miles, and spun him around. She was so beautiful, her blue eyes wide with panic, her body ridged with tension. She gripped his arm hard, and then, without a word, spun around and walked away, in the direction of the bathrooms.

He waited a heartbeat.

Two.

Then followed.

Pushing open the door, he found her standing over the sink, looking at him in the mirror, both of them reflected there, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Look – I'm sorry… today is just…" she started, but didn't get far as he crossed the room in two long strides and spun her around. His hands slipped under her, pulling her up onto the sink unit, before returning to her face, cupped her cheeks, and his thumbs ran across her cheekbones as his mouth bore down on hers.

They kissed for a lifetime that way, as though she was water and him a man dying of thirst, they kissed for the pain of that day, so she didn't have to cry or speak. They kissed for all the things unsaid between them, for the formality he had had to show her all evening, when he knew what she had needed all along.

When he finally pulled away, she clung to him, he pressed his lips to her forehead and wished he could removed all the worries and memories that lived there. She sighed deeply, placing a hand over his heart as she did, before looking up, into his eyes.

"We have to tell them… sooner or later… you know we do" he murmured, his voice a warm whisper across her eyelids. She squeezed them shut again.

"I know… I – just don't want Miles to kill you. I kind of like you" she whispered, smiling as she felt a laugh rumble in his chest.

"Well, I kind of like you too" he replied, smiling into her hair, before pressing a kiss there.

"That is why we have to tell… and we have to do it soon. I'm done hiding this Charlie, I don't care what anyone thinks… I won't hide it anymore" he said, and she pulled back and looked up at him. Her expression was concerned, and he wished he could ease it.

"I - like - you too much to hide it anymore" he said with a creased smile, using her words as an invisible mask. She hesitated, a moment, a moment longer, and then smiled, and as always, when Charlotte Matheson smiled at him, it felt like a sunrise breaking across his face.

"Ok, we'll tell them. But you have to promise me something… you'll bring a gun for protection"

Aaron paid the taxi and stepped out onto the street. It was quiet, and residential, and a world away from his glass palace high above the heart of the city. He watched the taxi drive off, and wondered again why he had not wanted to call his car service. For some reason, he didn't want any witnesses to this madness. He crossed the street, and stopped in front of the house. It was a cosy looking townhouse, indistinguishable from the rest of the street. There were lights on inside, and as he started to climb the stairs, he wondered what the hell he could say to explain his presence here. On the top step, he rang the bell as he heard a car pass slowly by, it's window open and music spilled out, and filled the street.

"To keep me alive, just keep me alive
Somewhere to hide to keep me alive"

The door opened and he fond himself face to face with a blonde woman, in a black dress, who was looking at him politely.

"Good evening. Can I help you?" she asked.

"My name is Aaron Pitman, and… I don't know why… but I think I was supposed to find you".