A/N: Anyway... Here's the second official chapter. Also, sorry this wasn't up until late. . I was working on another project of mine and fanfiction was being an ass and not letting me sign in, so... Bleh.

Amusez-vous, read and review!

Chapter 2: Speakeasy

Given my response to Rajan's words, it should hardly be surprising that I went to bed and didn't get up again until noon. I trailed down the stairs without a single sound, my feet silent as usual. The others were up having lunch, but I was still rather sick to my stomach, so I slunk into the living room and seated myself on the couch. I don't remember what was on the TV, as it really didn't catch my attention.

Rajan, to my dismay, was the first to finish eating. He seated himself on the couch a cushion away from me, and for a second it looked like he wanted to say something, but he decided against it. A few seconds later Ritchie walked in and plopped down right next to me, throwing an arm over my shoulder. "Good to see you're finally up, Sophster!"

"I guess." I shrugged, "I'd rather finish catching up on my sleep, but my brain won't stop long enough for me to go back to sleep." I lied.

He laughed, "Try writing down whatever's bothering you." He suggested after a moment, "It might help."

I pursed my lips but nodded anyway, considering the suggestion. After a moment I got up, stalked up the stairs to my room, grabbed my laptop, and returned, reclaiming my seat next to Ritchie. I began typing up what was bothering me. To his credit, Ritchie didn't attempt to read it.

When I was done with that I deleted it and opened the book I was working on. Writing everything down actually helped, which surprised me. Had I retained my memories from before, it wouldn't have. But, aside from that, I actually got some work done on my book!

"Are you still typing up all your problems?" Ritchie asked sometime later, looking almost horrified.

"No, no. I'm working on Speakeasy." I replied.

Relief washed over his face. "Oh, okay. I was worried for a second there. How far along in it are you, anyway?"

"Chapter 23, which is a really big landmark for me."

He nodded. "You seriously have to let me read it when you're done. Just the name makes it sound cool."

I grinned and continued typing away. Speakeasy was a book I'd started soon after I finished healing from the Great Keaton Caper. As the title suggests, it was set during the 1920s Prohibition movement. It revolved around a girl named Francesca, nicknamed Frankie, who, despite being a girl, was a bootlegger and a gunman to boot. She worked at the Celia Speakeasy in Southern Illinois, and had an obsession with symmetry, tidiness, and other such things. Despite that, she had no problem making and cleaning up all manners of unholy messes - usually with a golf club or a tommy gun.

Getting off that topic now. I could go on for hours and subsequently reveal the entire story to you. That would be no good.

Most of the day was spent lounging around, unsurprisingly, until Henry came over to inform us of an opportune hit. By that time I was actually well into chapter 25 of Speakeasy. Three chapters in one day is big for me. Really big.

Anyway, he told us about the place, passed his usual comments on my love of disregarding the law at every turn and therefore being perfect to write a 1920s Prohibition narrative, and he left again. Lindsdy began making the necessary preparations, and we agreed to go the night after, since the goods were supposed to be there through the 30th of the month and it was only the 14th.

What we were targetting was a painting called Hell's Unholy Mess, which was on display at a local museum. While there might be no honor and no challenge in stealing from ordinary people, there's not necessarily no fun in it. Stealing is always fun. Anyway, when we got it I was determined we were going to keep it long enough for me to make a forgery of it to sell instead so I could have the original. Lindsey had small qualms with the deceit, but trusted me enough to think I'd make it good enough there wasn't any suspicion.

With the plan in place, Lindsey locked herself in the 15th bedroom in the hideout, which she and I had converted into a lab and Headquarters of sorts. Most likely she was tinkering away at something or physically drawing up the plan for the heist. Neither would surprise me at all.

Ritchie, who I had never really told much about Speakeasy, prodded me for some sort of summary. Eventually I gave in and showed him the summary I'd written for the story itself.

Francesca Marigold has her work cut out for her!

Between an irritatingly Catholic grandmother, working for the Celia Speakeasy in the trashy side of town, college, and an extremely nosy best friend, she has to divide her time very carefully and concot lies that are convincing enough for the first and last to believe them. As a bootlegger smuggling 'Shine through the Southwestern corner of Illinois in 1924, nothing can really be more dangerous. As a hired gun for the same Speakeasy she supplies alcohol to, things heat up quite a bit more than she'd like.

As a supposedly Catholic granddaughter, she works hard to convince her very Catholic grandmother she's on the straight and narrow. As a college student she has to make sure she gets her homework done - the least of her worries!

Most worrysome is her best friend, Nicodeme Wilson. Nicodeme is one determined young lady, and she'll stop at nothing to find out what Francesca sneaks out every night to do.

"Interesting." Ritchie said as he slid my laptop back to me. "Got a favorite character other than Francesca?"

I nodded, "Nicodeme. I get the feeling I based her on somebody, but I don't have a clue who it could be."

Interestingly, I did base her on somebody. I based her on my best friend Em, who I didn't remember at the time. The name Nicodeme came from her crush on Nico di Angelo, from the Percy Jackson series. I just added the 'deme' as a subconscious want to distinguish the two.

"So, I'm now wondering... did you base any characters on your gang?" Ritchie asked.

"Yeah. Zeek Hatchet is based on you, and he's Frankie's biggest tormentor. But everything between them is completely platonic. Then there's Dominic Vasquez, Frankie's literal partner in crime, who I based on Rudy. After him is his girlfriend, a flapper at the Celia, who's based on Lindsey. And, of course, Calvin Kingsly. Calvin is based on Rajan, obviously, and he and Frankie go back a long way." I bit my lip. "You don't mind spoilers, do you?"

Ritchie shook his head, "Not at all, so long as they're small."

I nodded, "Well, it's not really a spoiler, per se, but it does sort of play into Frankie and Cal's relationship. See, I don't reveal what sort if things they got up to pre-Speakeasy. The way I write them is meant to portray familiarity, often bitter, but sometimes affectionate. I'm not sure how well I manage it, though, since I have a mind like a child's and I do things that make absolutely no sense to anybody but me." I chewed on the inside of my cheek and stared at the ceiling for a minute, "It's bad form to say it like this, but things weren't always platonic between those two."

Ritchie laughed. "You really are good at long-winded explanations, Soph."

I pursed my lips, laughing a bit and nodding. "Yeah, I guess I am."

For a while he pestered me on his role in the story, and I answered most of his questions. But sometime later he yawned and excused himself, bidding me goodnight. I returned the good will to him and continued typing. I'm not sure how much later Rajan walked into the kitchen and seated himself across from me. For a few minutes he just watched me type.

"Whatcha workin' on?" He eventually asked.

"Speakeasy. It's a book I've been writing since I fully recovered."

He nodded. "Sophie." He said after a moment. I looked up. "About what I said last night... I feel like I need to elaborate. Something about saying it like that and then walking off is just eating at me." He broke eye contact and his eyes drilled into the table top. "I'm not sure how to say it, exactly, but you really do mean a lot to me. Seriously. And I...well... I think I'm in love with you. I've been crushing on you since Cairo and... well... Damn, this is weird..."

I tilted my head to the side. "Since...Cairo?"

He loked up and nodded cautiously.

I bit the inside of my lip and redirected my eyes to my computer screen. "Looks like I was wrong, then. That makes me feelso much better about myself."

He, when I looked up, had the most adorable 'WTF' look in the history of ever on his face. "What do you mean?"

"Don't get mad, but... Well, like most scorned women who left a lot unsaid in a relationship, I was sort of thinking you... that your interests were solely physical."

He stared at me for a moment. "Solely physical? Sophie, I - that sort of hurts." He said. "Not that you aren't the most beautiful woman I've ever met, but my interest in you was never physical. At all. The fact that you're drop dead gorgeous is just a nice add on."

I was blushing a lot. "Drop dead gorgeous, huh? Weren't you calling me lazy and unmotivated just last night?" I asked. But I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

He smiled back and went to reply, but Rudy walked in.

"Night, Soph!" He said happily, hugging me. He punched Rajan in the shoulder. "Night Rajan."

Rajan punched back, "See ya in the morning, Rude."

I fought a yawn after Rudy walked out, but Rajan noticed. "You should head to bed too, Ringtail. We can continue this discussion some other time." He smiled at me and I felt compelled to do so.

I got up, locking my laptop and saving Speakeasy, though not necessarily in that order. Then, despite my conscious telling me it was stupid, I hugged Rajan, told him goodnight, and then kissed him on the lips before he could reply. I walked out of the kitchen and up to my bedroom, giggling to myself at the shell-shocked expression on his face. It was really cute.

Some parts of me, like the bitter ex-girlfriend, were screaming at me and telling me I was an idiot. But some were congradulating me.

...I know, I'm crazy.

Anyway! My romance and very strange mind aside, I actually wasn't all that tired, so I decided to meditate. Most of the time, when I meditate, I just fall into a black abyss and stay there until something rouses me. I can stay in a meditative state for at least a day without any interruptions. But, considering who I live with, that's the longest I've managed to go. But sometimes my mind reaches back through time and connects to Jacey Cooper's.

Surprisingly, us talking doesn't alter the timeline at all. She doesn't even mention it in the Thievius Raccoonus. But we can go on and on about our problems to each other, and usually help each other out somehow.

This time, my mind did just that. Jacey immediately, as usual, noticed my presence in the back if her mind.

"Howdy, pardner." She said to me.

"Hey there. What's up?"

"The sky?" She suggested.

I laughed. "Whatcha doin', then?"

"Resting up after a big heist, actually. I'm technically asleep right now."

"I should be. But I wasn't quite tired enough."

She laughed, and we spent my meditation talking about random stuff, including boys, during which she admitted to having a crush on Damien. When I was finally tired enough, I said goodbye to her and brought myself out of the meditation. I uncrossed my legs and got up, only to collapse onto my bed and curl up in order to fall asleep.

Rather uneventful day, really. Don't know why I wanted to talk about it.