Danny

"Ooo, you make me live," Freddie's younger voice sings through my stereo. "You, you're my best friend."

I strum the chords along to the music till it ends. Uncle John apparently wrote this song, which makes it even better. I'm getting pretty good at it, actually, but that's probably because I've heard it before on Mr. Adams's station sometimes. A few of the notes in the bridge are kind of hard to figure out, but I'll get there.

"Don't Stop Me Now" almost begins, but I'm not ready to learn that one just yet. I want to master the rhythm guitar part of "You're My Best Friend" first. So I skip back to number six, and I'm just about to start it over when my cell phone vibrates.

"Again?" I mutter. When I open up my phone and see the message, which reads "You okay?" that's all I need to know. Without even responding, I shut the phone again, sliding it to the other side of the bed.

Since a couple of hours ago, Lauren keeps on sending me little texts, wanting me to reply- but I've already decided I'm not talking to her anymore today. Usually I dread Lauren's weekends at her mom's house, but I'm still pretty upset at her for just abandoning me in art. She's always doing that to me, just leaving me all by myself because of Baylee and her stupid girl friends saying we're a couple even though we're not. Most of the time I can take it a little better, I know, be tougher about it. But today I'm too sad to be tough. Some people can be both at the same time, like Mom. But not me.

I press Play and listen to the track all the way through one more time. The music sounds pretty soft because the door is open; Freddie is downstairs working on his newer songs, and I don't want to miss anything. I'd really like to be down there so I can hear better, maybe even talk to him some more especially since I may never get the chance to again after tonight, but Mom has told me over and over not to bug him when he's at the piano. Freddie may have gotten me out of a detention, but I'm still very much in the doghouse. So here, I'll obey.

Speaking of the doghouse, all of a sudden the piano music cuts out, and Freddie exclaims in an annoyed tone, "Fry!"

I hop off the bed, head down the hall while Farnsworth squawks as I run past the cage. "I'll get him," I yell.

"No, no, it's all right, I'll put him out," he calls back. "He's just being a bit sort of underfoot again."

"I'm sorry," I murmur. Tromping down the stairs, skipping every other step, I leap from the third to the floor and land on the first floor with a thump, but Freddie's already sliding the back door open.

He points outside and looks down at Fry, who's sitting quietly at his feet. "Out," he commands him. But Fry doesn't move.

A few seconds go by before Freddie says it again, but this time with a laugh under his words. "Out, I said! Beat it! Bog off! Scram!"

When Fry still doesn't budge a muscle, he rolls his eyes. "F---ing sausage dog," he mutters. "Right. Suppose I'll have to throw you out, then."

Then he bends over, I guess to pick Fry up- only for the "sausage dog" to lick his hand and roll over onto his back, looking helpless. And I burst out laughing, hand flying up to cover my mouth.

Freddie rolls his eyes and swears under his breath again, pulling his leg back as though he's about to kick the dog out onto the icy patio. He doesn't, of course, and instead squats down a little closer and rubs Fry's soft belly. "You're very charming- but it won't help you," he murmurs.

"It kind of does, though," I tell him.

He looks back at me, his raised brows making ridges in his forehead. "Oh really?"

I grin. "He's getting a belly rub out of it, isn't he?"

His eyes narrow as he hops back upright, scooping the limp dachshund off the floor. "Not anymore, he isn't," Freddie declares, then sets Fry carefully on the concrete outside, sliding the door closed again while I keep snickering behind my hand- before I realize what I'm doing and actually make myself pull the hand away.

Weird, but I don't usually hide my mouth when I laugh; I guess I just have watched Freddie do it so much when he smiles or stuff like that that now I'm doing it. Monkey see, monkey do- sort of like how Freddie said he was responsible for me getting so mad and launching the f-word at Ms. Rydinger.

He apologized so many times to me for that, too; on the drive back he kept saying he was so sorry for being "that sort of poor influence" on me, especially since my mom has "been so careful" in bringing me up right- and that with this in mind, his leaving tonight had very likely "not come a moment too soon." But if you ask me, Freddie could be the worst influence ever, and yet any moment he was set to leave would be way, way too soon.

So much so, that I'm bruising my brain trying to come up with a reason, any reason at all, to make him stay just a little longer. I want to say something about Mom, but even that's a toss-up. One minute they're Eskimo-kissing, the next they won't even speak to each other. They go from friends to foes and back in less than a minute, it seems- and from how quiet he got when I asked him about the driving lesson on the way home, I'm pretty sure they're not besties right now. It's so frickin' frustrating.

So, I cough and suddenly blurt one of the stupidest things I've ever said in my life: "I think Fry likes you."

"Mm. Yes, I can tell," he says dryly, waving away Fry who's still looking in through the glass with this lonesome look on his face.

"Do your cats act like that around you?"

"No, they're a bit more sort of independent, as it were. But that's just the difference in animals." He shrugs a little. "He's all right, really. He's just always in my face, and that, um, can get- you know-"

"Yeah, I know. Sorry."

After another second Freddie rubs the back of his neck and continues, "It's a bit- the way he acts, it's somewhat like how - one of my cats acted round your mum, when she was living with me."

"Like in 1977?" He nods with a little smile. "How many did you have back then?"

"Three. And it was the orange cat I had- still have, actually. His name is Oscar- and he absolutely adored your mum."

My eyes widen. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. Followed her all around my flat- if she sat down on the sofa, he'd leap on as well and curl up right by her side- in fact, he was the one who sort of convinced me to let her stay."

Confused, I cock my head to the side. "What? How?"

"Oh, naturally, we sat down and had a long talk about it-"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, right."

"Well, it was sort of one-sided, I tell you," he chuckles, whipping out his pack of Marlboros, "but he was so taken with your mum, he didn't have to say much at all to get the point across- and really, I didn't need much convincing myself."

"You didn't?"

"To take in a beautiful girl like your mum? No indeed."

My mouth falls a little open. "Beautiful?"

"Very." Freddie lights the cigarette, takes a puff- then looks at me funny. "Don't you think?"

"I mean, sure, I guess," I say quietly. "It's just - kinda weird to hear you say that."

"Which kind? Cool-weird, or plain-weird?"

I smile. He's really gotten the hang of this. "The cool kind."

"That's good- although I really don't see why you would think it strange at all, to hear someone call her beautiful."

"It's only weird when my friends say it."

"Friends?" The look in Freddie's eyes seems to change.

"Yeah!" I nod. "You're one of my best ones."

"I am?"

"Uh-huh- although right now, you're probably my only best friend," I add.

Freddie's lips curve up just a bit at the corners- but not in a sarcastic way- as he takes another drag. "All because I went after your teacher?"

"No, not just that. I mean- you just- kind of are, because Lauren is- I don't know."

"Lauren- that's your neighbor friend, right? With the red hair?" I nod- and his brows furrow in concern. "What happened with Lauren?"

"Nothing, it's just- she can't deal with the things her friends say- stuff about how she's my girlfriend and all, which she isn't, and I keep telling her that, but all she cares about is what they think, and what they say, and, um- yeah."

While I'm talking, Freddie's eyes fill with feeling, like he completely understands every word I say. He's not faking it either, the way Dr. Preus will sometimes when Mom is around so it seems like he actually cares what I say. I'm not stupid, even though that guy might think I am. I know the difference.

"My God," Freddie sighs after a bit. "You've had quite a day, haven't you?"

"Eh," I shrug. "The detention was the worst part, honestly, but you fixed that, so... thank you."

"What? No Japanese this time round?" he teases gently.

"Oh, yeah! Yeah. I mean, uh- Domo arigato," I correct myself.

Freddie bows his head politely. "Doitashimashite."

Quickly I bow as well. He flashes me a small smile when I do, but I can see in his face he doesn't mean it. His eyes look as unhappy as I feel- which I don't get. He's going home today, I would think he'd be excited. Especially since the minute he returns, he's landing right back into his big bad birthday bash. From the way I've heard them talk, too, it sounds like he could have been home at least since yesterday. If there's so much to go back to, with him being so rich and famous and popular, why hasn't he done it yet?

Before I can ask him about it, though, he turns around and starts back toward the piano. He taps the ash off his cig, then seats himself at the bench. That's my cue to leave, I guess. With a little sigh, I start for the stairs, only for Freddie to stop me halfway up.

"You don't have to go, you know," he calls.

Neither do you, I answer in my head- but instead my mouth goes with, "Really?"

"Of course! It's not as though I'll even be doing anything with these songs anyway." He waves me closer.

Well, Mom's told me one thing, but the guy's inviting me, so I guess I'll go for it, I decide. With that, I tiptoe up behind him and watch him over his shoulder. He doesn't play anything right off the bat, though. he just sits there hunched over the keys for a couple of seconds, thinking. After a little while, he starts playing a few notes that sound kind of familiar, but not really. Then he stops, tries again, then pulls his hands off the keys even faster.

Freddie does this a couple more times before finally he whispers, more to himself than to me, "My God."

"What?" I ask.

He shakes his head in frustration. "I don't know it."

"Know what?"

"The song we were recording in the studio before all- this happened. I've forgotten. Spent all my time on this bloody soft thing here, and I start to lose the other in the process."

"Oh wow," I gasp. "Do you not remember at all how it goes?"

"Barely. It's half-slipped out of my head."

I shrug a little. "You'll probably remember when you get back home, and you start working on it again and stuff."

"Mm," he nods, cracking another odd smile. "All the more reason to get out of here, I think- before I lose all of it completely, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh. Uh-huh." Then all of a sudden my mood brightens. I have an idea. "What's the song called?"

"What, this one?" Freddie points at the open page, which is covered with his crazy cursive in all kinds of different ink colors.

"No," I shake my head. "The one you said you forgot."

"Oh, um- it's still very work in progress- and it's sort of turning into something else entirely different from the demo, I think, the more we play with it. Even the title is going to be different, certainly because of the lyrics- because it's 'one God, one world, one this, one that-'"

"One Vision!" I cry so loud that I think I startle him a little. "Right?"

He blinks, lips twitching over his teeth. "You know it, then?"

"It's on Mr. Adams's CD."

"It is?"

"Uh-huh. Maybe if you listen to it, that'll help you remember better!"

Freddie shakes his head. "It's all right, Mr. Phantom, I don't need you to-"

"Hey, you want to remember it, don't you? You helped me out, so let me help you out. Okay? Okay. I'll go get it."

"Uh- all right, go for it," Freddie chuckles almost sadly- and I ignore the funny look he's giving me as I run up the staircase to my room.

The two-disc box is sitting right where I left it, there on top of my stereo. I snatch it up, then hurry on down the hall as fast as I can. When I pass the kitchen again, though, I have to do a double-take. I didn't really notice it before, because earlier I was too hungry to focus on anything but getting to the refrigerator as fast as I could- but the place looks different in two big ways.

First, the wilted yellow and white flowers that were sitting in the middle of the table are gone- and replaced with these big scarlet roses with long green stems, like the ones you see passed around on Valentine's Day. I count nine in all- which is kind of weird, because I always thought that roses came in dozens, or something. That's how Dr. Preus likes to do it; when he brings Mom flowers every now and then, it's always twelve or twenty-four. But never just nine. Either way, though, they're really pretty. Besides, Dr. Preus doesn't ever give Mom red flowers, so it's a nice change.

Second, the kitchen Modo has disappeared. Or so I think at first. A few seconds of searching, and I realize it's not missing at all; it's just in a different form. It's sitting right next to the vase on the table, in smashed-up little pieces.

No, seriously. The Modo is absolutely destroyed.

Right beside the pile of plastic and metal wiring sit two of our blank stationery cards with the pretty nature design on the front. Curious, I pick up one of them and read what's inside:

Here lie what remains of the Modo Twins:
Separated in Life, Now Together in Death.

I cover my mouth, recognizing Freddie's handwriting. Twins? I say to myself. Did he break them both- on purpose? I mean, I know he hated them, but -why would he just smash them up like that?

Before I can ask Freddie as much, I nab the other card, this one standing closer to the flowers. This one doesn't have an envelope either, so I look what's in it too. But this one makes my jaw drop even more than the other.

Not that I can read it. The note's all in Japanese Kanji, and most of it I don't understand. But the first line, I recognize, even though I only learned it two days ago. I know it so, so well. And it reminds me.

**************************************************************************************************

Freddie

I watched silently as Danny bounded up the steps, hand scarcely grazing the garland wrapped around the rail, and my heart sank even further within my chest. Simultaneously, though, I couldn't help but smile. For it really wasn't lost on me, what he was trying to do as far as "One Vision" was concerned. I'm hardly the most perceptive chap around, but I'm certainly no fool. I know tactics when I see them, especially when they're obvious.

And Danny, above almost all else, was quite obvious. The dear boy.

I was no closer to getting over what happened in Julia's office that morning, but I do admit, it was really nice to know someone in this house still liked having me round, especially at this stage. (Someone besides the dog, anyway.) I would have hated to leave this place with the knowledge that both the people with whom I spent the most time despised me inside and out.

Then again, I reminded myself, God knows what Danny too would think of me, were he a fly on the wall while Antonio was saying all those things.

I rubbed languidly at my eyes, then focused them again on the song lyrics before me. Across the top of the page I had written "I'm Not the Only One" as the working title. Just to do it, I played out the line of the chorus that included these words- and winced. Somehow the words didn't fit the music any longer. So I seized a pen and began to scratch through the line- but I had only rubbed out the first two words when Danny's voice called down from above, wrecking my concentration.

"Hey, Freddie!" he yelled.

I drew a heavy sigh. "What?"

Danny didn't answer right off. He came down a few steps first, a big smile on his face. He brandished something in his hand, something from that distance I couldn't quite make out- but it wasn't the CD box. As he moved closer, I saw he was waving around one of the notes I'd written, and his next question confirmed which one:

"What does this say?"

"Oh, that." My flesh began to crawl. "It's just a joke, um- I don't really understand most of it myself, since on half those words I ended up using the translate thing on Charles's phone. Very useful-"

"Isn't this first line 'Teo Torriatte,' though?" he asked.

Fuck.

Still, I couldn't lie to him; I had no choice but to nod. "Yes, um- it is, actually."

"Really?" He grinned with excitement. "How does the song go, Freddie?"

"Have you still not heard it yet?"

He shook his head. "Didn't get a chance to. I was going to ask Ms. Y to play it in art, but she wasn't there today."

My throat began to tighten. I really didn't want to play that song right now. No, more than that. I absolutely could not afford to hear or play that fucking song. Not while in this state of mind.

I hadn't exactly done myself any favors thus far anyway, what with letting myself go on about how sweet it was to watch Julia with Oscar- with all my cats, really, but especially Oscar. Already I was trying my hardest to keep my mind from shooting back to that moment so many years ago, when I came downstairs early in the morning to find my stray kitten in the kitchen, heating up some milk for him while singing "Moon River" under her breath; that beautiful scene I witnessed minutes before she gave in to me at last, and we made love for the first time...

"Freddie, you okay?" Danny's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Yes! Yes, I'm - I'm all right," I lied, breathing in a little more smoke. "Just, uh- trying to remember how it goes, since it's been so, um- so very long since we even performed that song, I've forgotten nearly all the words."

"Oh." He thought about it a moment. "Is it that one song you were playing before?"

"Which one?"

"The pretty song. The one like-"

"All my songs are pretty," I teased.

"The one you played on Tuesday, I mean. The one that was like this." He put his hands out in front of him and pretended to play the piano, vocalizing what sounded very much like a simplified version of "Jealousy."

My insides seemed to tie up in knots. "Oh, that. No, Danny, that's a different song."

"It is?"

"Mm," I nodded. "I wrote that one for your mum, so that's not-"

"YOU WHAT?" Danny's eyes bugged.

I nodded, and said, albeit in a much softer voice, " Yes, I, uh- I wrote that song for your mum."

If it was even conceivable, the boy's eyes widened even more, and his lips parted in complete and utter shock. To be honest, I've never seen anyone look so thoroughly stunned as he did right then. You would have thought I had made some wild, Darth Vader-esque claim and announced, "Danny, I am your father," for how hard he seemed to be taking it.

When he still didn't say anything for a while thereafter, I scoffed somewhat testily, "I mean, it's - not that big of a thing, it's just one fucking song."

"Yeah- but you also said it was a love song," he pointed out quietly. "Right?"

I'd forgotten that part. "Well- Kind of. I said, kind of a love song."

Danny blinked. "That's still a love song."

I swallowed hard. Just a bit too late, I realized I had said far, far too much. But there was no way I could take it back now, or explain it away- even if I wanted to. For a while we just traded rather awkward stares, the silence broken only by a plaintive bark or two from Fry. Eventually I grew bored of this, and turned back to the keys.

"Freddie, um- I was wondering," he whispered at last. "Were you and Mom, um- you know- I know you dated, but- was she like- your girlfriend?"

"My girlfriend?" I shut my eyes. Oh, God, here we go.

"Yeah. Was she?"

I cut the music again, and took my time in crafting the answer in such a fashion that would be neither a denial nor a complete giveaway. "Danny- look. Your mum and I weren't together long, so- I don't know if we could necessarily be called an item, but- in the little time she lived with me, I indeed ended up, um- feeling very sort of close to her, and very, very, I suppose- we were very good friends, I mean- as good a friend as you can be with someone you're only around for two weeks, that is. So- there you have it."

Danny nodded slowly, chewed on this for a little while. And he asked once more, "So- was she your girlfriend, or what?"

So much for that. "You're not very easily discouraged, are you?"

He only shrugged and kept looking up at me expectantly. I took one more drag, then jabbed what little remained of my cigarette down into the ashtray, where it burned itself out. The fingers of the other hand picked out the melody of "Jealousy". I wasn't sure how the boy would react, hearing me, a man other than his mysterious father, talk about his mum in a romantic context- but it seemed he would be satisfied only with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

"Danny," I began softly, "no. I really don't think I could really consider her a girlfriend."

His face fell. "Oh," he whispered. Biting down on his bottom lip, Danny started for the stairs when I stopped him.

"But," I continued, "listen to me. We may not have been together long enough to truly be considered a couple, by society or whatever, but- we were, um- we certainly were- lovers."

The boy whirled on his heel with a gasp. "...Lovers?"

"Lovers, as in- we fell in love and we, uh... did things that lovers do."

"Like what?"

"Things." I'd corrupted Danny enough for one week, there was no need to overdo it. "And, uh- I very much believe that, had she stayed, there's no doubt we would have truly become an official couple- perhaps much more than just a couple. But- there's your answer."

He could scarcely believe his ears. "You- fell in love with my Mom?"

"I did indeed!" I thundered, tossing my head with all the camp of Liza Minnelli herself. "And what do you think of that?"

"Oh wow." Danny licked his lips, anxiously adjusted his glasses, and frowned. "Oh, wow. But- hey, wait. If you guys were in love, and lovers, and everything, then- why did she come back here?"

That sucked the wind right out of my sails. It took superhuman strength to utter the reply, and keep anything close to a straight face, "Your guess is as good as mine, Mr. Phantom."

No sooner were the words out of my mouth when there was a knock on the door. I rose from the bench- only for Danny to grab my hand and hold on. Once more, I faced him, unsure how much more of this I could take.

"Hey," he murmured, eyes as big and dark as a fawn's. "Can I just ask one more thing?"

"Go ahead," I breathed.

"Are you- still in love with Mom?"

"My dear boy," I coughed, "I have been in love with your mum for eight -though technically I suppose it would be closer to fifty, but I don't want to be eighty-one at the moment so- for over eight years. Yes, let's put it that way. And- that means yes."

"Then why do you want to go back home?"

"Because I have a life in 1985. I have a purpose. And what's more, your mum does not feel the same way."

"How do you know?"

"Because I mucked it up, that's why."

"Mucked it up?"

The man rapped his fist against the door again- this time a little harder. "Danny, it's complicated. All right? Now let me answer the door."

With that I finally broke away, sprinting up to the second story. I don't know who I expected to see standing there, but I certainly did not anticipate it to be Charles.

"Good afternoon," he said, stepping inside.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him. "I don't remember calling you."

"Even if you did, I couldn't pick up," he shrugged. "You still have my cell."

"I do? Oh. Here, let me find it, give it back to you and you can be on your way."

He didn't answer. "Are you still ready?"

I hesitated. "Ready for what?"

"Ready to go? Back home? You know."

"Home?" I took a step back. "Right now?" As I spoke, Danny peered around the wall at us, listening closely.

"Of course! That's why I'm here," he announced. "I mean- you do want to go home, don't you? You said you did before. I'm ready to take you when you are ready to go."

"Y-yes, I suppose," I nodded, and added silently, But not without saying goodbye to someone first.

"Good! Hop in, I'll take you up there," he said cheerfully. "Oh, and by the way- you haven't happened to run across my drivers license, have you?"

I squinted. "No. Why?"

"Can't seem to find it anywhere. Looked all over the Eperon, not a trace- but I did find this stuff in the back." So saying, he passed me my ivy cap- as well as a small white envelope whose importance at first completely escaped me.

But then I remembered, "Oh, yes! Must have fallen out of my coat pocket. How silly."

"What is it?" Danny drew nearer.

"Some gift thing from that New York station," I shrugged. "I dunno."

"Aren't you going to open it?"

I rolled my eyes. "All right, all right, you pushy little man. I'll open it now. One moment." I turned around and headed toward the master bedroom- the only place in this house I could get anything close to peace and quiet, which I sorely needed about now.

"Is that what your car's called, Mr. Burdon?" Danny asked him. "Eperon?"

"That's the style of car. Yes."

"Cool. Never heard of that. What brand is it?"

"It's a-"

I closed the door, stifling the two voices just enough to plunge the bedroom into an adequate silence. Wearily I sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing my legs, and looked around me a moment. I had never liked the paint in that room, to be honest; it was too flat, and too gray, like a prison cell almost. Perhaps Julia noticed it as well, otherwise there might not have been so many colorful prints hanging on all the walls, as if in attempt to hide the bleakness behind them.

I wouldn't miss much about this house in general- aside of the two people who lived in it. And even then, I wouldn't remember. For I had hardly forgotten they would erase- or try to erase- the memories. I didn't want them to, but I didn't seem to have much of a choice. Certainly not with Gertrude calling the shots.

I don't have to go right this instant, though, I reminded myself. I could stay longer if I wanted to. K said that potentially the bridge-thing could sustain itself for another week if necessary. What's a day or two more? That would give me plenty of time to explain, or redeem myself-

"Please," I scoffed aloud. "Perhaps that would give me the time- but who's to say she'd give me the chance?"

This mindset was not improving my mood. Without any further hesitation I tore open the envelope and read the little card inside, shrugged, stuffed it back inside, and set it on the vanity. It was basically useless to me, seeing as I wouldn't be around that evening to redeem the gift, so at first I didn't care.

Just before I could march out again, perhaps even to leave the house itself and head directly to Princeton, I heard something. Something that dug deep into my chest and clawed at my heart, pierced straight through my soul's armor, hit me where it hurt the most.

Danny was singing a song. But not just any song. It was a song he should not have known at all, according to him. Minutes before, even, he had claimed never to have heard a single note of it- and yet I could hear him through the door. It could have been no other tune. I wondered, was I going mad? Was all this emotional pain and persecution finally taking its toll on my mind?

With shaking hands, I flung the door open. Now I could hear the words.

"...Hold the flower that touches you/ A new life grows, the blossom knows/ There's no one else could warm my heart as much as you/ Be not-"

"Danny, what are you doing?" I demanded in a voice far more brisk than it should have been.

He swallowed quietly. "I'm- singing. I just said a prayer, and now I'm singing. It's a thing I-"

"Yes, yes, but- what are you singing?"

"It's called, 'Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By."

All my blood seemed to flow right out of my body. "I thought- you said you had never heard that song."

"No. 'Teo Torriatte' is the one I never heard-"

"Danny, that IS 'Teo Torriatte'!" I exclaimed.

The boy froze. "...Huh? But I thought 'te o toriatte' meant 'hold your-'"

"Maybe so- but not as far as the song goes!" I interrupted. "'Teo Torriatte' is just the Japanese translation of 'Let Us Cling Together-' that's what I wrote in that note! The Japanese part of the song!"

"It is?" Danny's eyes brightened. "Oh, wow..."

"Where'd you hear the English part, Danny?"

"That's the amazing part," he said with a little giggle. "From Mom."

"Julia?" I said in disbelief.

He nodded. "Yeah! She used to sing me the English part all the time when I was a baby- she even sang it a couple of nights ago."

"She did?" I could barely get the words out.

"Mm-hm. It's a really pretty song, and she said it always made her feel safe- and that's kinda what it does to me too. But dang! That's the same song?"

I didn't answer. I was too busy hurrying back to the bedroom to look at that card again. A very wild, very mad thing had struck me just now, and I was not sure what to do about it. Fuck, I didn't even know at this point how to feel at all.

All I knew was that, if nothing else, Julia had brought at least something back with her that she treasured; at least one memory was stored up somewhere in that hard, fascinating heart, that she looked back on with fondness enough to share with her son. "Teo Torriatte." The song I myself sang to her, on what was to end up being our last night together.

One memory. Just one, and a very small one in the grand scheme of things. But one memory was proof enough that something could indeed get through- that there was still a way inside, an old passage carved out from a chink made there all of ten years ago by a simple little song. Behold, the power of music.

My heart pounded. Maybe... maybe there is a chance after all. Maybe she'll listen to me- and if nothing else, we can part on better terms. It's not likely. It may even be near-impossible. But there's still a chance.

That was enough for me.

The mad idea developed even further the more I stared at the card. It was all falling into place before my very eyes, the wheels in my head turning steadily faster.

Danny walked in, but was careful to knock first. "So what is it?" he asked. 'The envelope I mean."

"It's hope," I whispered.

"Hope?"

I placed the card into his palm. "See for yourself."

Danny read the silver embossed cursive aloud: "The following code activates a premium reservation at Manhattan's world-famous Tavern on the Green, valid through 12/31/2027. Happy Holidays!"

He squinted at me. "I don't get it."

"We'll soon fix that," I told him. "Come sit down over here. I'll need your help."

"For what?"

I winked. "I've got a plan."

Danny grinned cautiously. "Wait- does this mean you're not leaving yet?"

"It means, I've got a plan. Now sit down. Charles! I'll need you too. In here, please."

"What's going on?" Charles said, poking his head into the doorway.

"Fre- Rick has a plan!" the boy chirped.

A funny little smile crossed Charles's half-hidden face. "A plan, eh?"

"Indeed."

"What kind of plan?"

"I'll explain in a moment. And it's very important we get this worked out as fast as as we can, there isn't much time left to redeem this code in if we want to do it tonight, so let's get started. Right!"

Thus began the second greatest scheme in the history of the world.

What was the greatest, you ask? I'm afraid I can't tell you- but only because it hadn't happened yet. You'll see. Just be patient.

In the meantime, though, I think this will do quite nicely.