~*~ Two Years Later ~*~

"Carmen –"

"I know that tone, Robert," Carmen Allen said, her phone propped on her shoulder as she was sifting through a pile of receipts for the event going on at the park. She had started using the surname Allen almost two years ago, deciding it was better to accept her past than to hate it. There had been rumors for a while that she'd run off and gotten married, but when she continued to live alone and nearly never be seen in public with anyone other than her closest friends, even those whispers fell by the wayside.

It had been an enormous change, not having other people running to do things for her, but ever since she officially stepped down from the top position at A-List Magazine, handing the reins over to Rob Wallace, she had decided on trying something new. Her attention to detail, her creativity, her ability to negotiate her way out of a wet paper bag – all of it led to a conclusion that seemed obvious in the rearview mirror. For over a year now, she had been working as A-List magazine's event coordinator and had never looked back with regret at the decision to step down from the top spot. For one thing, it allowed her to work from home, which she had been extremely thankful in her early recovery from her surgery – so much so that from time to time, when work became a little too busy, she still did so.

Times like today.

"That's your 'I need a favor' voice," Carmen continued, going through her receipts and circling totals in red pen. "Is everything okay?"

"Can you please let me in?" Rob laughed. Of course he wanted to talk face to face – he always did when he had a speech. Carmen rolled her eyes and agreed, buzzing him in. Her downtown flat certainly didn't have the space or the view of Tashmore Lake, but it had been home for a good while now. She waited for Rob at the door and when he arrived with an almost mischievous grin, she raised an eyebrow, indicating for him to continue.

"You're really not going to come to an event that you've been putting months of work into?" Rob asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's going to be amazing. A book signing in the park – after all the work you put into getting the permits, the vendors, the security – just because it's him?"

Carmen looked down at her feet, smiling sadly. Rob knew her too well for her to deny it – she usually enjoyed seeing the fruits of her labor, but today was different. She'd put hours and hours of work into planning the book signing in the park, and she was well aware that it was going to be great. She had specifically booked Mel as the photographer for precisely that reason – because Melanie Carter was the best that they had. But how was she supposed to show her face when it was an event A-List was sponsoring for Morton Rainey?

She hadn't spoken to Mort for two years – not since she got out of the hospital, the last time Shooter had made his presence known – but she had followed his comeback religiously, and his latest book had been the success he had been after for years. Carmen had paid attention to every detail, but actually attending had never been a possibility.

"You know Mel doesn't want to leave Baby Ryan alone, and she hates babysitters," Rob said pleadingly. "And my little guy loves his Aunt Carmen –"

"And you know I love him," Carmen grinned. "And he's welcome here anytime –"

"But it's gorgeous out! You're really gonna suggest keeping my son inside on a day like this?" Rob smirked, leaning on the doorjamb casually. "Please. Just for a little while, while Mel is running around getting candids for the spread next week. Please."

Rob knew, of course, that Carmen could easily say no to him and to Mel no matter how much she cherished them as friends, but Baby Ryan was a different story. While Carmen had almost seamlessly transitioned back into her workaholic ways, she was still admittedly alone a lot of the time. Rob and Melanie had tried their best to get her on dates, even to set her up with the best man at their wedding, to no avail. It was the topic of pillow talk many a night in the Wallace household that Carmen would never fall for anyone else because she was still very much in love with Mort Rainey, but there was nothing that could really be done to press the issue. Above all else, Carmen was a woman who, when she made up her mind, kept it. Instead, Carmen seemed more than content to pour her love and attention towards her godson, Ryan.

Besides, as long as she stayed out of sight, nothing could go wrong. She could get a glimpse of Mort, and get the closure she wanted, while spending time with her godson in the process. It would be fine, right?

"I'll come out for an hour once I finish itemizing these receipts," Carmen conceded with a huff. "But please – please bring the stroller this time. For a kid who's only been walking for a few months, he's a tough one to keep up with and I'm not getting any younger."

"Could've fooled me."

"I already agreed, Rob, flattery is unnecessary."

It was surreal, the thought of being famous again. Mort was used to being infamous, being feared – he was used to people trying hide their kids when he passed by them in the store - but not to being famous anymore. His writing, however, had taken off in the past couple of years since he'd had nothing else to focus on. His latest book, Mourning the Muse, had taken off more than he ever would have expected – a bittersweet success. It was so much more personal than anything he'd ever written, and the fact that he was invited to so many publicity events and awards banquets and book signings over it was both amazing and…

Heartbreaking was probably a good word for it.

Carmen's sudden disappearance, he tried to convince himself, had been a blessing in disguise. Maybe she couldn't handle the pressure. Maybe things had moved too fast for her, and he supposed that was understandable. There were times that he hadn't wanted to be around to see the shitshow his life had turned into back then, he couldn't have expected more from someone who had already done so much for him. She was young and beautiful, and the last time he had seen her, she was in a hospital bed after taking a bullet to the stomach for him after he'd broken off their engagement out of pure cowardice. He had deserved it.

Carmen had still been a blessing, he decided, even if she didn't stick around to see how big of a blessing she'd been. After two years, it had finally gotten to the point that it didn't sting as much as it did in the beginning.

Mort had finally gotten to a point where he could be out and about with people, talk about his work and his past in retrospect – so, this book signing in Central Park by the lake wasn't the painfully awkward experience it would have been a couple of years ago. People asked him about what he was up to, what his next project would be, and he would answer honestly that he didn't know. There were brief lulls from time to time that the fans would wane and he could take a glance around at the event itself, and it was during one of these lulls he looked at one of the posters with his picture on it, directing people to his table. In fine print at the bottom, he read a phrase that felt a bit like a kick in the shins:

Sponsored by A-List Magazine.

A-List. Mort was never one for entertainment or gossip, but he remembered that Carmen had always said she would go back once she finally got her head straight in Tashmore Lake – and she certainly was no longer in Tashmore Lake. Had she gone back to the city like she had promised she would? Mort had felt too guilty to even consider the possibility of following her, so the past two years had been spent only wondering where she'd gone. He had no right, he told himself. She'd already nearly given her life for him - he had no right trying to rush back into her life when she had clearly been harmed enough for him being in it in the first place. He already owed her his life and he certainly didn't need to accrue any more debt. But if she was here, if she willingly came somewhere that she knew he might see her, surely it wasn't wrong to at least see if she was doing alright. Just to see.

Instinctively, he began craning his head around, combing the entire area until his gaze, drawn like a magnet, landed on a woman in jeans and a plaid shirt, with familiar wavy brown hair – she was sitting with a baby stroller in front of her. She leaned over and clapped her hands joyfully, and a tiny pair of hands reached out to clap against hers in a game of patty-cake. She was here with a baby.

Carmen was here, and she had clearly moved on with her life. It really was over.

So why, Mort asked himself, had he gotten up from his seat and started towards the park bench where she was sitting? He realized it only too late, when she looked up and spotted him too – it would be too weird if he tried to make a break for it now. He'd gotten himself into an awkward, awkward mess.

"Hi."

"Hi," Carmen said in a quiet voice, a muted, lopsided smile crossing her lips. Deciding it was best to bite the bullet, Mort walked over and took a seat on the bench next to Carmen – the woman he once thought he would spend the rest of his life with – and looked into the stroller at the bouncing baby boy, clad in a Yankees baseball cap and little baby overalls. He caught a glimpse of those green eyes, the pointed nose, the little buttchin – this was clearly Rob Wallace's son. Mort gave a sad laugh – he supposed if it had to be anyone, it was for the best that it was Robert Wallace, who had always protected Carmen, always valued her. It was a small comfort, anyway, even if it came with the desire to pop the man's head like a boil for having the woman Mort loved.

"Cute little guy," he said with a weak smile. "He looks like his dad."

"Yeah, he does, doesn't me? I guess Rob's genes came out pretty strong," Carmen chuckled, and it was clear to Mort how much Carmen loved this little guy - and how much the little guy loved her. He wanted to be happy for her - how amazing she was with kids. He really did. "But Ryan's got his mom's hair –"

She reached out and gently pulled off Ryan's tiny baseball cap and revealed a head of bright blond hair. His mom's hair. Mort blinked incredulously, glancing back and forth between Carmen and Baby Ryan. Blond. Baby Ryan was possibly the blondest baby he had ever seen, and Carmen had hair so dark, he wasn't sure if she could have gone blonde if she tried. He'd seen photographs of her in college, thanks to her friends that had for a while been his friends as well. She had never even been a fake blonde. "He – his mom's hair? So, you're not –"

"What? Oh – oh, God, no," Carmen laughed nervously, tucking her hair away from her face – Mort couldn't help but smile a little, both at the fact that she still had the same habits that he remembered from when he'd first met her and the fact that she hadn't had a kid with Rob Wallace. "This is my godson, Ryan. Honeymoon baby – Rob and Melanie. You thought he was mine –"

"I guess I should have asked first. Foot in mouth," he chuckled, shaking his head, and for a moment, there was a thick, tense silence between them as they realized neither of them had been prepared to see each other at all, let alone have this conversation – whatever it was. There had been a time where sitting together and saying nothing at all was nice – it was calming and peaceful. But now, it was just a reminder that they had so much to talk about and no idea how.

"Sorry! I know, you said one hour! Sorry, Carmen!"

Carmen had never been so relieved to see Melanie Carter in her life – she scurried up to the bench and placed her hands on her son's stroller, the camera around her neck knocking gently against the handles as she smiled knowingly between Mort and Carmen. Carmen felt and abrupt sense of anxiety for what Melanie would say next – she had always insisted that Carmen wasn't over this yet, and seeing her with Mort would surely mean for a very uncomfortable conversation later. But she didn't make any pointed comments - no jokes about destiny or second chances. She just smiled.

"I'll – I'll give you two a minute. Ryan! Come on, you're gonna come take pictures with mommy now!" she said with a tilt of her head, scurrying away with her son's stroller and grinning with mischief as she made her way across the park to where Rob was directing a few vendors who were setting up a tent. Once Carmen had looked away, Melanie held up her hand and gave Rob a thumbs-up signal.

Little Ryan Wallace's favorite place was Central Park, and he loved sitting his stroller and feeding pigeons at one park bench in particular. It was of course by coincidence that Rob had directed the staff to set up Mort's table just a few yards away, indirectly facing said park bench. He would insist so if Carmen asked, anyway, and he would insist it to the bitter end - but just because you insisted something didn't make it true.

Meanwhile, Carmen shifted slightly on the bench, took a breath, and turned to face Mort, only to realize that he was already looking at her.

It wasn't supposed to go this way, she thought to herself. The plan was that she was going to leave him to live his life, and the only rule was that she could only watch from afar. They weren't supposed to be face-to-face like this ever again, yet here they were. She cleared her throat, and committed herself to the idea that this was happening – it was unplanned, and it was happening.

"How are you?" Mort asked. Carmen blinked in surprise at the fact that he had drawn first blood in this conversation, so to speak – she shouldn't have been surprised, she reminded herself. He was the one who had never gotten any answers, while she was the one who disappeared without a trace. Of course he'd be the first to ask questions.

So, she gave him an answer – not the answer he wanted, but an answer nonetheless. She told him about her job, the new moves she'd taken with her career, Rob and Melanie's wedding – she completely skipped the parts that involved why she was living this life in the first place, and the absence of that part of the story brought it to a point that Carmen simply rambled and rambled, because no matter what she said, none of it brought any closure. It was simply

Finally, when she felt like she was grabbing at straws to continue her story, she paused and switched tracks, hoping to find more luck talking about him. "I read this one – Mourning the Muse," she said simply. "It –"

"I didn't mean for it to be a jab at you or anything," Mort interrupted quickly. Carmen froze and smiled sadly – shed never thought it was a jab at her, but it went without saying that somewhere in the pages was a part of her, because it was in a strange way their story. It was the story of a writer falling into madness who is saved by the hallucination of a woman he referred to as The Muse, and the writer's struggle to rebuild himself when he realizes The Muse was never real.

It had hurt when she first read it – it hurt that she had left him with the idea that none of it had ever been real, and she had nearly caved and went right back to Tashmore Lake to tell him the truth. But she had always had her reasons, and constantly reminding herself of that fact was enough to keep her away. She had made a decision, she reasoned, and she had to give it time to work.

"Listen," she said, looking away quickly. "I just came down here for a few minutes to make sure everything was going smoothly – I should really go."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Carmen said, standing up slowly, She was doing her best not to even look at Mort, just in case her resolve was not as strong as she convinced herself it was. This was goodbye again, she decided. This was really it – the goodbye she had avoided two years ago because she didn't think she could do it. "It was… really good seeing you, Mort –"

"Coffee."

"What?"

Mort had stood up all of a sudden and interrupted before he'd had a chance to think of what he was doing, and it again brought a strange awkward silence between the two until he managed to stammer, "Do you want to… get coffee… after this?"

Carmen blinked and smiled in surprise. He wanted coffee. He didn't hate her. Surely, if they could manage this conversation, they could manage one more without ruining one another's lives that they had worked so hard to put back together. One last conversation for closure, and nothing more than that. What was the harm? She took a deep breath, and without giving herself time to consider the idea that it was just a moment of weakness, she nodded.

"The Dancing Crane at five?" she asked – they shared one of those knowing smiles of agreement that they never honestly expected to share again, and Mort nodded. As Carmen walked off, she felt half-pleased, half terrified at what she had just gotten herself into.

Carmen had gone back to her flat to get more work done – the weekend's events weren't over yet, after all – for the remainder of the afternoon, but inexplicably found herself getting ready rather early for five o'clock. She changed into a nicer blouse, washed and dried her hair neatly, put on lipstick –a far cry from the khakis and t-shirt she had worn to the park to watch Ryan. She looked in the mirror and sighed as she realized that she'd just made herself up to look the way she usually did when she and Mort were still together.

Nostalgia, she convinced herself. Just nostalgia.

Whether it was nostalgia or something else that drove her to be at the Dancing Crane by a quarter past four, Carmen wouldn't yet be able to say, but she had already taken a seat out on the veranda and was sipping in a sparkling water when Mort arrived – promptly at half-past four. Though neither knew it, they were both thinking the same thing at the same time: this was the place they had first met, even if neither of them really remembered that day. It had been right here on this veranda, more than five years ago. They had walked right by each other without even noticing.

Mort felt a stab of sadness when he remembered the dinner party where Rob had shown them all the photograph, and Carmen had begged him to promise her that they would never be just an old photo in a box - yet here they were, though neither was truly at fault, no longer really part of one another's lives.

"You're early," he said, walking up to the table where he immediately spotted Carmen. He didn't take a seat until Carmen nodded for him to do so, and when he finally did, Carmen gave a hesitant smile.

"You didn't stand me up."

"Hah. Well, what's a guy without his integrity, right?" Mort laughed a little uncomfortably. The pair managed to make small talk for a short while as they sipped on coffee and picked at croissants, more out of desire to take a break from talking than out of hunger. They talked about the book signing, about how Mort had actually started staying – part-time at least – in a SoHo flat because the recent uptick in his popularity demanded he be in the city more often. They were acting so completely normal, so fine –

Mort couldn't stand it.

"Did you ever regret it?" he asked suddenly – Carmen looked like she nearly choked on the bite of the croissant that she had just taken, but she quickly recovered. Of course, she knew what he was talking about, and admittedly she knew she should have seen it coming. She looked down momentarily, and Mort immediately regretted it. He reveled in the ability to just be around her again – and now, he worried he had just scared her off.

"I did," she answered quietly. "Regret it, I mean. Every day until this afternoon."

"Wow," Mort said, raising his eyebrows slightly – what was that supposed to mean? She suddenly saw him again and realized – she was glad that she left? Had he done something so egregiously wrong now that she was glad to be away from him? "Could I bother you for a little context, ba—Carmen?" he said, coming dangerously close to calling her something that could have made everything very uncomfortable very quickly. It didn't evade her notice, and her face flashed with an expression of surprise before she laughed nervously.

"I regretted it every day," she said, not able to look at Mort while she spoke for fear that she wouldn't be able to go through with giving him the honesty he deserved if she had to actually see his reaction to it. "But – I saw you today, and you were just so… together. You have your life in a good place again," she nodded. There was a strange lilt of pleading in her voice, and Mort remembered: that tone meant she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. "And I remembered what you said in the hospital – that you'd do everything in the world for me. If I'd let you do that, you'd have never gotten back to this point in your life. If you'd had me weighing you down, you'd have stayed stuck in that rut and never come out."

Mort was silent, soaking in the explanation – it had been easier for him to believe that Carmen had run away out of weakness, out of selfishness, just like he had when he called off their engagement as they stood in the middle of a park in Boston. This, however, caused him to feel a familiar wrenching, writhing sensation in his stomach. He opened his mouth to speak, but only managed to stammer out a few unintelligible syllables before stopping himself, covering his mouth with his hand as he rested his elbow on the table. Unable to help herself, not realizing it until after she'd done it, Carmen reached out and grasped Mort's other hand across the table – and suddenly, they were both staring at their joined hands, touching for the first time in over two years.

"With Shooter gone, the one thing I wanted more than anything was for you to get a new start," she said, shaking her head, finally forcing herself to actually look at Mort – and it was just as heart-wrenching as she expected, the way he looked so flabbergasted by all of this. She never should have agreed to this, she chided herself, but it was too late now. "I didn't want to be the reason you didn't get that."

"Wow," Mort said again, shaking his head. He chuckled to himself and reflexively squeezed Carmen's hand back the way he always had. "That is – very benevolent. Very you. I… guess I wish you'd let me have made that decision for myself –"

"Mort –"

"I'm kidding," he reneged quietly, not allowing her to pull her hand away from his, though her arm had tried to jerk away defensively. "I— I'm not mad. I just needed to know."

That part, at least, was true. He couldn't be angry because he couldn't have honestly expected different from Carmen – Carmen, who always needed to keep control of things, who was so set in her ways.

"Thank you. For coming, I mean," he said, forcing a smile. "It's never stopped bothering me, if we're being honest."

"Yeah," Carmen nodded vaguely. "Of course." She looked up at the clock and cleared her throat, gently pulling her hand out of Mort's. "I really should go – I have to go," she stammered, looking down again and pausing, hesitating before getting up out of her chair.

"Wait," Mort said as she was standing and smoothing out her clothes, picking up her bag from where she had hooked it on the back of her chair. "One more question – are you happy, Carmen?"

Carmen hesitated, then managed to look Mort in the eye and give him a sad smile. "I'll give you two guesses," she said before walking away. Again. But this wasn't an ending, Mort thought to himself. There was nothing satisfying about it. Nothing perfect about it. Their paths had crossed again, and Mort refused to believe there wasn't yet some poetic justice to be found.

A/N's

There's only one chapter left! Thank you to everyone who has been viewing and messaging about this story, I'm glad that the revamp is going over well!