"Tangled Up in Blue" (Verse 7)

So now I'm goin' back again
I've got to get to her somehow
All the people I used to know
They're an illusion to me now
Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenters' wives
Don't know how they all got started
I don't know what they do with their lives
Me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same
We just saw it from a different point of view
Tangled Up in Blue
-Bob Dylan

They entered the club as a party of five, to be met by a wall of sound from the immense speaker system. Even two hours before the live band was due to appear on stage, the crowd was being warmed up by all the best pre-Blackout rock and roll. The place was packed, but the fivesome's leader, a tall dark man with a black ponytail, quickly found a path, the others trailing behind him as best they could.

"Nice sound system," Doug remarked over the considerable volume.

"It's gonna be strange goin' electric again," Mick added. "Not a whole lot I can do to compete with that kind'a bass."

"We'll improvise," Gene said over his shoulder. "Cass, you might be on double-duty tonight."

"No problemo, boss," the shorter and darker of the two ladies among them replied, flashing Gene the thumbs-up.

Before they even made it to the bar, they were met by one of the owners, a short, dark-skinned man with an expressive grin. "My friends, you made it!" he called, stepping through the crowd to give Gene a vigorous handshake. "Gene, you look well!"

"So do you, Roberto," Gene nodded, clasping the smaller man's hand. "Business has been good to you."

"Sure it has," Doug grinned, stepping up beside Gene. "Once a businessman, always a businessman, right?"

"Douglas," Roberto laughed, giving the blonde man a brotherly embrace. "It has been far too long." Roberto then turned his attention to the red-haired woman beside Doug, and his forehead wrinkled with confusion. "And you, my lovely? Forgive me, I'm sure I should know you."

"We met only briefly, years ago," she said in a soft but no less audible voice.

"Marie-Ange, may I re-introduce Roberto DaCosta," Doug said to the lady, indicating Roberto.

"Yes, of course!" Roberto smiled, the light dawning. "The Hellfire Club, shortly before the Blackout. You were the heiress to the Colbert fortune, no?"

"All of that is behind us," Marie-Ange said firmly. "Tonight is a night for pleasure, not business."

"Of course," Roberto nodded. "You are very welcome here. And your remaining members?"

"Cassie Spangler," Cassie introduced herself, stepping forward and gripping Roberto's forearm in a greeting between warriors. Roberto was somewhat taken aback by her, but recovered quickly and nodded in reply.

"Michael MacPherson, from Sydney," Mick finished. The latter part of his introduction was largely unnecessary, as his accent was indication enough of his place of origin.

"Well, then, welcome to Hideaway!" Roberto smiled, spreading his arms in an expressive gesture to encompass all five of them. "I think you'll agree that there's no place like it."

"Is Danielle here, Bobby?" Doug asked.

"She's upstairs," Roberto informed him. "She'll be down shortly. Right now, though, we should get you set up on the stage."

* * *

Jenny was enjoying the relative quiet behind the club, having one last cigarette before going out to continue her floor shift. She could feel the vibrations of the music just by leaning against the wall, but out here, at least, she could catch a moment or two to herself. Things were certainly different here since Roberto had taken over, and she found herself spending more and more reflective time out back, away from the very lights she had wished for.

"Jenny?" came a voice.

She looked up to see a smiling Sasha peeking out through the door. "I'll be back in a second, kiddo," she said to her friend, forcing a smile.

Sasha came down the back steps and fixed Jenny with a knowing smile, but said nothing.

"What?" Jenny asked, simply.

"You'll never guess," Sasha told her.

"Probably not, so why not just tell me?"

"He's here, Jenny."

"Who?"

Sasha merely widened her eyes, smiling fit to burst.

"Who, Mustafa? He's here all the time."

"No, no. I mean, he's here too, but... he's not who I meant."

"Sasha," Jenny smiled, mirroring her friend's expression, "tell me."

"The one with the eyes," Sasha replied, mysteriously.

"The what?"

"The eyes, Jenny. Remember?"

For a while, she didn't have a clue as to what Sasha meant, but then it hit her, and her jaw dropped. "No way. He's here?"

Sasha nodded wordlessly, but her smile spoke volumes.

"Holy shit," Jenny whispered. "Here? Now?"

"I saw him talking to Roberto. There were some others with him: two men and two women."

"Really? I had him pegged for a lone wolf."

"Jenny," Sasha said meaningfully, "I think they're the band."

There was a brief pause, then Jenny did something she hadn't done in ages: she gripped her friend's hand and let out a high-pitched squeal of excited laughter. "Oh my God, this is crazy!"

"It's just like you said," Sasha smiled, biting her lip nervously. "I can't believe it!"

"And we never even had to leave the desert."

"No," Sasha agreed. "You were right. Civilization finally caught up with us."

"Are you disappointed?"

"Maybe a little," Sasha admitted, "but at least I'm still dancing."

* * *

Kristina arrived in Hideaway with a definite sense of anticipation. After all, she couldn't be sure who the message had been from. It had arrived with no signature, no return address, only a location, a good sum of money, and the words "meet me here."

Truth be told, she had tried to put him out of her mind. People came and went through the Great North Woods, but once they were gone, they were gone: particularly given the circumstances surrounding his departure. She hadn't dared to believe he'd keep his promise.

Hideaway was a wonder after years in the silence and oil-lamped darkness of the woods. This place was nowhere near the bustling city of San Francisco she remembered from her youth, but it seemed to be so.

She'd come into town with all of her belongings packed in a single over-the-shoulder duffel bag, and upon arriving, found herself a hotel to check into. A hotel! Not an inn, like the North Woods Resort had become, but a multi-story hotel with valet parking for anyone who still had a car. She'd been surprised, sure, but felt she owed it to herself considering that she could afford it.

She spent the afternoon wandering the streets in a daze. There were people, and shops, and restaurants, and street musicians, and children playing in the parks despite the stifling heat. She simply wandered, taking it all in.

By the time she found Roberto's, the place mentioned in the note, she found she still had a couple of hours before it opened, so she decided to hit the shops. She wanted to dress to the nines tonight, and God knew how long it had been since she'd had that opportunity.

The hotel, it turned out, had a shower. With hot water, no less. She was tempted to stay under the spray until she fell asleep, but Roberto's was calling. And so was whoever wrote that note, apparently. She hoped so, anyway. The note hadn't even had a date attached to it, so she didn't know if whoever it was would be there tonight. For all she knew, she'd missed some kind of appointment with destiny.

There was even a full-length mirror for her as she dressed. She hadn't been able to get this good a look at herself since... well, since before, same as so much else.

The years could certainly have worn her out worse than this. She couldn't exactly call herself skinny, but too many long winters had certainly left her more slender than she would like. That, combined with the implants, made her figure something of a caricature. Before, there hadn't been that much of a contrast, but with the weight loss, her obviously false breasts jutted out above her all-too-visible ribs.

The outfit, she hoped, would help disguise that. The low neckline would show off plenty of cleavage, but the top was blousy enough to disguise her ribs. From there, was gathered by a belt at her waist, then a knee-length skirt of gauzy black material over equally black leggings. The only splashes of color were the belt, which was a fluorescent pink, and her dragonfly pin, shining golden on her shoulder: the rest was midnight-black, like her hair.

This would do nicely.

She headed downstairs and emerged into the warm, humid Arizona night. The dog days had passed, but summer apparently didn't want to let go of this corner of the world. Black heels clacking against the wooden sidewalks, she retraced her path to Roberto's.

She had wondered at first if she'd be able to find her way back. As she got closer, though, she found herself falling in with a fairly steady stream of people heading the same way, and she could hear loud music echoing through the streets from blocks away.

Upon arriving, she found to her surprise that there were in fact two entrances to Roberto's, with dozens of people queued in each. She studied each line, and realized that one was comprised of entire families, while the other was largely people her age, some older. She opted for the latter, and waited with mounting impatience to pay her cover charge and go inside.

The atmosphere was positively electric inside. A darkened stage was the obvious center of the establishment, and she realized that the stage was "in the round," open to both halves of the place. Her half was obviously a bar and dance hall, while the other was more of a restaurant: a place safe to take the family for dinner and entertainment, so long as they could handle the noise.

Kristina weaved through the crowd of dancing bodies, all of whom were obviously just getting warmed up for the band, yet showing signs that they would soon be cutting loose.

She tried to look for him above crowd level, as he'd probably tower over most everybody here. She was so busy looking above the crowd level, though, that she all but ran over a smaller man in her path.

"Oh, my God... Kris?" the small man asked.

Kristina stared at him for several long seconds before it clicked. "Gilbert?! You're here?!"

"Yeah!" he grinned. "I've been here a couple of months now."

Kristina gave the very welcome Gilbert a hug. "Oh, geez, Gilbert, I missed you!"

"It's mutual. I was worried you wouldn't make it."

She looked askance at him. "Then it was you? You're the one who sent for me?"

"Oh, no, no... that would be..."

He trailed off, and looked over her shoulder. Kristina turned to see what he was looking at, and found herself face to expansive chest with Buford McGwynn.

"Good to see you, darlin'," he said, his voice barely audible over the music.

This time there was no hesitance. She all but leaped into his arms, holding him fiercely. "It was you! I knew it was!"

"Didn't I tell you I'd send for you somehow?" he smiled, running one thick-fingered hand through her raven hair.

"Yeah, I guess you did, didn't you?"

* * *

Doug was on stage tuning the drum kit when a pair of hands appeared over his eyes. Purely by reflex, he ducked, twisted away from the hands, and nearly knocked over a twenty-inch cymbal assembly as he righted himself.

"I see your reflexes are still as good as ever," Danielle grinned at him, barely containing her laughter.

"You always could sneak up on me," Doug sighed, stepping forward and giving her a bearhug. "Chief, it's been ages!"

"Not quite the five-year date we made, but it'll do. If I know you, you've got plenty of stories to tell already."

"You could say that. No more than you, apparently. Where in the world did you and Roberto manage to run into one another again?"

"Laws of mathematics and probability," she shrugged, taking a moment to brush a long, black braid off her shoulder. "It's a well-known fact that there are only about fifty people in the world, so it's only natural we all had to meet again, somehow."

Doug laughed at this, then smiled wryly. "Not all, though."

"Not yet. Once word gets out about Hideaway, I'm sure we'll have plenty of the old gang coming back to see what's up."

"I hope so, Chief."

"So..." she smiled, mischievously, "who's the new lady in your life? You always did have a thing for redheads."

"That's the Angie I was always talking about. She's... had a pretty rough go of things since the Blackout, but... we take care of each other now."

"Awww," she grinned. "You old softie."

"That's me. So... any new ladies in your life?"

She chuckled. "Give me time, Doug, give me time..."

* * *

Sasha edged open the door to one of the inner balconies, then waved Jenny over to join her. "Down there," she pointed. "On the stage, tuning his guitars. That's him, right?"

"It sure is," Jenny breathed. "Whoa. I wonder who the blonde is."

"Blonde?"

"The one talking to Dani."

Sasha followed Jenny's eyes. "I heard them calling him Doug. I think he and Roberto knew each other before."

"Hm. Who else is... oh, God!"

"What?" Sasha asked, taking her friend's arm.

"The other people in the band! I know them! That's Mick down there: I'd know that silly outback hat of his anywhere! And that's Cassie, and... oh, my God, Angie!"

"Where do you know them from?"

"School, an age and a half ago! Cass and Angie and I were in a band, and Mick was Cassie's boyfriend. It was the only thing that made that tight-assed private school bearable!"

"And now they're in a band with him!" Sasha grinned. "I don't know if I could call that a coincidence."

Jenny looked back at Sasha, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe someone's trying to tell you something," Sasha elaborated, giving Jenny wide eyes.

* * *

Buford led Kristina to a booth off to one side, where two blonde men were sitting and having a discussion over coffee. They looked astonishingly similar, and Kristina guessed they had to be related somehow.

"Kris, I want you to meet a couple'a business partners of mine. This is Jean-Pierre Delacroix, and this is his brother Etienne."

"Enchanté," Etienne smiled, rising to take Kristina's hand and kiss it. Buford then gave him a look, and the young Frenchman released her hand.

"This is the young lady you spoke of, then?" Jean-Pierre asked.

"Sure is," Buford smiled. "So... if y'all don't mind, she and I have a little catchin' up t'do."

"Oh, do not let us stop you," Etienne shrugged.

"Alone," Buford said firmly.

The brothers looked at Buford, then at one another, then made a show of getting up to go. "Mon Dieu, Etienne, look at the time. We should... check in with Roberto, n'est-ce pas?"

"Mais oui," Etienne nodded. "I'm sure we will have time to get to know ze jeune fille soon."

With that, they shuffled off through the crowd, nodding greetings to Kristina.

"You didn't have to scare them off," she chuckled.

"They know I don't mean nothin' by it," he smiled, softly. "'Sides which, I built this booth, and I'll sit here if I want to." He gestured for her to take a seat first, then scrunched his considerable mass in opposite her. She reached across the tabletop to take his hands.

"Where did Gilbert disappear to?" she asked, suddenly realizing she'd forgotten all about him the moment Buford had arrived.

"Oh, he's around somewhere," Buford shrugged. "He's on the move a lot. Works here as a waiter some nights after school."

"School?"

"Yeah, we started up a school not too long ago for the kids in town. He teaches math an' a little science. Every once in a while I do a shop class."

"I'm glad you two are both okay," she sighed. "I was afraid you and he... wouldn't get along too well on the road."

"Nah, he ain't a bad guy, come right down to it. Once he set it straight that he'd never see anything in a big lug like me, we got along fine."

Kristina burst out laughing. "No, you're definitely not his type. So where did you go?"

"We hitched around for a while, then we hooked up with the Delacroix boys in N'awlins."

"You went to New Orleans?" she sighed. "I'm so jealous! I should have come with you..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked away. "I should have been brave."

"You were," he smiled. "You came here, didn'cha? You could have stayed up north."

"Not this time. I had to take the chance that it was you."

"I'm glad you did," he sighed, looking down at their joined hands.

* * *

Marie-Ange made one last check of both her bass guitars, then her violin, then cast a glance and a smile to Douglas, who was trying to continue setting up the drums while keeping up his conversation with a Native American woman who could only be the Danielle he had often described. He noticed a smile and blew her a kiss with his middle and ring fingers, which he then tucked into his palm in an "I love you" gesture.

She considered asking Douglas to introduce them, but then the drums would never get set up. Instead, she retreated from the stage and worked her way toward the back hall leading to the green room.

"Hsst!" came a voice suddenly. "Redhair!"

Marie-Ange whirled around, and found herself staring up into a pair of violet cat-eyes.

"Sharon!" she gasped, throwing her arms around the cat-eyed woman. Sharon flinched, and was very tense in her arms, so Marie-Ange broke, taking a step back to see what was wrong.

Sharon looked horrible. Most of her mane of hair was gone, leaving just an inch or so from the top of her head down to the base of her neck. Her cat-eyes, without a doubt her most striking feature, were sunken and sullen, having lost their customary shine. Her angular face now only seemed to make her look absolutely emaciated, and her sleek frame has withered noticeably.

"Ma chatte, what happened to you?" Marie-Ange gasped. She looked Sharon up and down, then noticed something else that made her heart skip. "Your tail," she whispered. "What happened to your tail?"

"Roving pack," Sharon whispered. "Did not like mane, or tail. Said freaks like me caused the Blackout. Took mane, took tail... tried to take eyes, but got free first."

"Non, non, non," Marie-Ange repeated, shaking her head slowly from side to side. She brought one hand to Sharon's face, making the other woman flinch again. "You escaped them?"

"Killed them," Sharon whispered, bitterly. "Took mane and tail. Did not take claws and teeth."

"Mon Dieu," Marie-Ange whispered. "I should never have left you alone. I should have stayed with you."

"Who says you had a choice?" Sharon replied, with what was almost a smile. "Left you in good hands, though. Had to come see if goldenmane was being good to you."

"Oui, he's wonderful. But Sharon..."

"Is good," Sharon nodded. "Redhair deserves to be happy." Sharon closed her huge eyes and bowed her head. "Can go now, knowing this."

"Go?" Marie-Ange repeated, her voice empty with shock. "Non! Don't go now! Stay with us!"

"Cannot," Sharon sighed angrily. "Hunted now. Wanted now. Would only be trouble. Must go alone now."

With that, Sharon bolted back into the club, hurrying through the crowd.

"Sharon!!" Marie-Ange called after her. "Come back, please!" She then dashed into the crowd as well, but it was already too late. Six feet three inches of lavender-haired woman had vanished as silently as the cat whose eyes she shared.

* * *

Cassie shifted herself in Mick's arms. The couch in the green room was wonderfully soft and comfortable after the rough drive, and Oz's presence only made it more so.

"You okay, love?" he asked, softly.

"Yeah, I guess. Jesus, was I dozing?"

"A little. You could use the rest."

"Sleep," she said, "has not been one of my best friends lately."

"You still dream about him a lot, don'cha?"

She repositioned herself to meet his eyes. "I thought dream research was something you'd put behind you."

"Yeh, maybe so, but I've been sleeping next to you for a while now, Cass. Makes sense that you'd be dreamin' of him: he was always an important part of you."

"He was my twin brother, for God's sake. Of course he was important to me. And then the things he did in my name..."

"He didn't have any choice," Mick whispered. "He was a good bloke -- had to be, to be a part of you. He was just in way over his head."

She shook her head. "I wonder if Gene would mind if I asked him to go easy on the keyboards tonight," she considered. "I really don't think I want to remember tonight."

* * *

"A carpenter?" Kristina asked, raising her eyebrows. "You always were good with your hands."

Buford blushed, and Kristina realized how that had sounded. "I mean, with fixing things around the inn, and things like that. I didn't mean... well, no, I guess I meant that too, but..."

There was a long silence, then Buford took a deep breath and pressed on. "It sure beats bein' a cook. And I ain't just a handyman, either. More an' more people are comin' here ta Hideaway, and they need homes. Me and Gilly and the Delacroix boys... we build houses, and stores, and whole parts of the town."

"Just the four of you?"

"At first, yeah, but we got a whole bunch'a folks workin' with us now. Lots'a folks like to have a hand in buildin', if it's their own home they're makin'."

"That's wonderful," she sighed. "I'm glad things are working out for you."

At this point, Gilbert appeared at their table and set down a tray with two glasses. "I'm off duty, but I figured I could pitch in here," he smiled at them. "Iced tea for both, if memory serves."

"Thank you, Gilbert," Kristina smiled warmly.

Gilbert nodded, smiled back, then took something small from his shirt pocket and passed it to Buford. "What are you waiting for?" he quietly asked the big man, then picked up the now empty tray and vanished.

"What did he mean?" Kristina asked.

Buford considered the object in his hands nervously. "Well, funny as it sounds, I've talked to Gilly a lot about you... an' about us."

"What's so funny about that?" Kristina grinned.

"Well, it was kind'a weird, seein' how he's... y'know, how he likes..."

"You mean because he's gay? Buford, he's one of my very best friends! Why wouldn't you talk to him about me? He knows me better than just about anyone."

"Y'see, that's the funny part. I didn't know if he'd even understand where I was comin' from, but he was the one who got me to get up the nerve to..."

"To what?"

"Well, to get me to write for you. I know I promised, but I was afraid you'd forget..."

She reached across the table to take his hands again. "I couldn't. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't forget you."

He nodded slowly. "Well, he's the one who convinced me to..."

He paused again, but this time she did not prompt him to continue. She found that she was holding her breath, waiting for him to continue.

"Kris," he said at last, pulling his hands back and unfolding the small package Gilbert had given him. "Will you... marry me?"

She stared at the diamond ring he held out to her, watching the lights play across its facets.

Time held its breath.

* * *

"Angie, what's wrong?" Cassie asked as Marie-Ange hesitantly walked into the room.

"I... saw Sharon," Marie-Ange whispered, shakily. "She was here, she..."

Cassie and Mick exchanged concerned looks, then got up off the couch and crossed over to where the other woman was standing with her face in her hands. "Are you sure it was her?" Cassie asked, reaching to take her hands.

"I... spoke to her," Marie-Ange said wretchedly. "Mon Dieu, what they did to her..."

"What who did, love?" Mick asked gently.

Before she could answer, Gene and Doug came in, along with Danielle. "We're on in five, folks. I'd like to go over the set list to make a couple of adds..."

Gene's words were met with silence. Sensing that something was wrong, Doug immediately put his arms around Marie-Ange from behind and held her close.

Danielle, too, sensed that something was amiss. "We can hold the house as long as you need. Should I tell Roberto?"

"Non, non, I..." Marie-Ange stammered, then took a deep breath. "I can play. Five minutes?"

"You sure?" Gene asked her.

"I'm sure."

* * *

"Buford," Kristina whispered, her eyes wide and unblinking. She looked from the ring into his nervous eyes.

"I wanted to ask you before, but I felt like I was nobody, and I couldn't give you a future..."

"A future?" she said in reply. "You've seen the world outside and you're worried about giving someone a future? All any of us have to give to anyone these days is ourselves, and you always gave that to me. That's all I wanted. Yes, Buford, of course I'll marry you!"

His forehead had creased with concern at her words, but with this last, his eyes lit up. "You will?"

"I will," she repeated, smiling fit to split her face wide open.

He slipped the ring over her finger, and for a while both of them stared into the shifting lights inside the glittering stone.

A commotion began sweeping through the crowd, drawing both of their attention. "What's goin' on?" Buford wondered.

"I think it's the band!" Kristina said, rising to her feet and reaching to pull Buford from his seat. "Come on, dance with me!"

"But... but I can't..!"

"Of course you can, you big lug," she said as he finally got up from the booth. She threw her arms around him and held tightly. "I'll teach you."

* * *

From a short distance away, Gilbert, Etienne and Jean-Pierre watched the proceedings as best they could through the crowd.

"Did he do it?" Jean-Pierre asked, struggling to get a clear view.

"If he backs out now, aftair all this time," Etienne frowned, but did not finish the thought.

"If he does, I'll kick his ass for him," Gilbert snorted. "Not to mention we'll all hear about it for weeks if he doesn't."

"But what if ze lady says no?" Etienne asked.

"I don't think that'll happen," Gilbert replied.

"Mes frères, something has happened," Jean-Pierre interrupted.

Gilbert and Etienne turned to look. "What?" Gilbert asked.

"They're standing," Jean-Pierre informed them. "Now they're embracing. It looks good."

"Do you see the ring?" Gilbert pressed.

"Wait... wait... mais oui! The ring is on her finger!"

"Bon!" Etienne grinned, giving each of the other two a high-five. "It is about time!"

"You can say that again," Gilbert sighed.

* * *

Jenny waited tensely in the darkness beside the stage, near where the two-man tech crew prepared for the arrival of the band.

This had been Sasha's idea, she reminded herself, and it had sounded like a good one ten minutes ago, but now she was beginning to feel more than a little nervous. She'd danced in the balconies since Roberto had remodeled the place, and balcony dancing was a whole different thing: a girl was on her own and alone, not needing to play up to anyone. Jenny wasn't really sure how to handle this wild idea.

She glanced up at the balconies, but Sasha hadn't appeared yet, nor had any of the other dancers: they were waiting for the music to start.

Presently, the lights came down, and the crowd ceased milling around and turned to cheer the spotlighted stage. Roberto appeared under the single beam of white, and waved to both sides of the club. "Good evening, amigos! Welcome to the evening's main attraction! We're very fortunate tonight to have a very talented quintet passing through town, and please help me give them a warm welcome! Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce Fine Feathers!"

The applause doubled in intensity, and Roberto made a quick exit to allow the band to come on. The blonde guy, Doug, was first, taking a seat at the drum kit, followed by Angie and Cass (bass and guitar), then Mick (carrying a flute of all things), and finally Gene, still limping slightly, a midnight-black Stratocaster slung over his shoulder.

Angie led the show off with the rumbling bass intro to the Red Hot Chili Peppers rendition of "Higher Ground." Gene, Cassie and Doug jumped in right after, and Mick brought his flute to a microphone Jethro Tull style, and started piping away, adding an unusual texture to the familiar rock tune.

When the vocals came in, it was Gene, Angie and Doug, the latter utilizing a headset microphone as he pounded the drums. At length, Mick put down his flute to sing along, and Cassie added a fifth strong voice, giving them a vocal sound that almost drowned out the amplified instruments. Jenny had never known that Mick and Cassie could sing like that, and wondered what she had been missing all these years in the desert while her friends had played on.

The next song was Toad the Wet Sprocket's "Butterflies," and at this point Jenny took a look around the balconies. Sasha was dancing in the closest of them, lost in her dance-zone like always. Dusty was at the far side, above the entrance, with Sienna opposite her. The fourth balcony, above the stage (facing the night-club side, of course), was empty: Jenny had abandoned her post for this mad scheme, and had to wonder now if it had been a particularly good idea.

After those two driving numbers, Mick took center stage, and the mood made an abrupt shift as they continued with Men At Work's Australian anthem "Down Under," with Mick alternating between flute and lead vocals. Jenny was amazed at how abruptly they switched from hard pre-Blackout alternative to mid-eighties pop-rock. Still, none of the music seemed to fit, and she continued to wait tensely for the right moment to strike.

After this third song, Gene met Mick mid-stage and slapped him five. "Good evening!" Gene called to the audience. "Like the man said, we're Fine Feathers, and it's a pleasure to have a stage and an audience again! This next song goes out to Jenny, and I do hope she'll take this opportunity to come say hello."

Jenny's jaw dropped, and she could only stare as Gene gave a four-count and came in with the opening chords of "Cinnamon Girl," the original Neil Young version. Suddenly realizing that she had been set up, Jenny shot a withering gaze at Sasha's balcony, but her friend was too lost in the dance to notice.

Up on the stage, Gene, Mick and Doug sang the first verse in crystalline three-part harmony.

I want to live with a cinnamon girl
I could be happy the rest of my life
With a cinnamon girl
A dreamer of pictures, I run in the night
You see us together, chasing the moonlight
My cinnamon girl

The gauntlet had been thrown. With a sudden rush of her dancer's confidence, Jenny took a deep breath and strutted up onto the stage, right in front of Gene and Mick, and danced.

Up on center stage, with both crowds watching, it could not be the sort of dance she'd done back when the club had been Tommy's, but she still planned to put all she had into it. Her white skin-tight halter top and short white skirt glowed brightly under a black light as the stage techs brought down most of the other lights on stage. Jenny was vaguely aware that Angie, Cassie and Mick had recognized her, and then the dance became a very personal, very closed, very isolated connection between her and Gene. He'd remembered this song, and she remembered how she'd danced it to him all those months ago.

After "Cinnamon Girl," scarcely taking time enough to change tempo, Gene gave her the first few measures of "Hold My Hand," and their eyes locked.

They circled one another on stage, then, like binary stars locked by gravity, while Gene sang this song from her past, and she danced for him. This time, in his eyes she did not see years of desolation and pain. He was very much alive, and very much happy to see her.

Hold my hand -- I want you to hold my hand!
Hold my hand -- I'll take you to the promised land
Hold my hand -- maybe we can't change the world, but...
I want to love you -- the best that -- the best that I can!

She felt like she could go on dancing all night. As though sensing this, Gene let the band right into U2's "Mysterious Ways," one of Jenny's all-time favorite songs to dance to. And to do other things to, she remembered, letting a wide smile cross her face. This time the dance was as intimate as she dared, the words of the song a seduction for both of them.

Johnny take a walk with your sister the moon
Let her pale light in to fill up your room
You've been living underground, eating from a can
You've been running away from what you don't understand -- love!
She's slippy -- you're sliding down
She'll be there when you hit the ground
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
She moves in mysterious ways!

By the end of the song, they were as close as they could get with his Stratocaster between them, and their eyes were still locked. Here, finally, the band let the song fall silent, and the crowd erupted with raucous cheering.

"I told you I'd save a dance for you," she smiled.

"I'm glad you remembered," he smiled back.

* * *

The concert carried on for another two hours, followed by an encore that lasted nearly another hour, after which the band had to admit defeat and take their final bows. The crowd thinned and emptied soon after, leaving the on-duty employees to clean up.

Doug and Danielle took this opportunity to go upstairs to Dani's room and have a long overdue talk over a bottle of Guinness.

"It's been a long road," Doug admitted, taking a pull from the bottle. "There were times I wished I'd hung back with you and Rahne and Ric. How are they, anyhow?"

"They're living down in Mexico with a guy by the name of Hector Cantolobos, and from their letters, they couldn't be happier. Rahne had triplets back in April, believe it or not, otherwise they'd be here now. They're waiting until the kids are a little older before coming up."

"Rahne as a mother? Yeah, I can see it. Too bad I missed out on wishing them a hearty congrats."

"You had your Angie to find, spud. We know that. And more to the point, you found her!"

"More by accident than design. If I hadn't hooked up with Gene and given up the active search, we might never have run into her."

"Funny how love comes along when you're not looking, eh?" Dani smirked. "So where do you go from here? I get the feeling you guys wouldn't be happy staying in one place long."

"Not yet, maybe. There are more of us out there to find. We got word that Sam and Lila are out on the west coast, and that's our next stop. But we'll be back to tell you all about it soon enough."

She took his hand and smiled warmly. "I don't doubt it, Doug."

* * *

Outside, the temperature had taken a pretty abrupt dive, and Marie-Ange shivered as she stepped out into the midnight air. She gathered her coat around herself and walked through the sandy streets a ways, looking around as she did.

Once she had gone a suitable distance, and was convinced that she was alone, she sat down on the wooden sidewalk and took a deep breath.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Sharon, but I have a feeling you can," she whispered. "I don't know if I ever thanked you enough for looking after me. I would have died without your help, ma chatte."

She paused, inhaled deeply, and went on. "I think I understand why you feel you must stay far from us, but I don't agree with you. You wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me. You were there when I needed you. Please, Sharon, let me be there for you."

That said, she stood, brushed off the sand, and turned to go. "We'll be here two more days. Please come with us." With one last look around the darkened streets, she headed back toward Roberto's.

From the shadows, a pair of lavender cat-eyes watched her go.

* * *

Jenny, Gene, Sasha, Mick and Cassie sat at one of the larger tables as the evening wound down, sharing drinks and road stories. Sasha had been mortified at first, admitting that she had told Gene that Jenny was here, but Jenny couldn't really find it in herself to be upset, given the way things had turned out.

"If I'd known you guys were going to go on playing, I might've stuck around," Jenny kvetched to Cassie. "You guys kicked ass tonight."

"You weren't so shabby yourself, love," Mick laughed.

"The thing is, we weren't playing much," Cassie admitted. "Then Gene and Doug blew into town like some cross-dressing Indigo Girls act, and Mick and I hooked up. We managed to track down Angie, and the rest is history."

"Do you still remember your drum licks?" Mick asked.

"Some," Jenny shrugged. "Why?"

"Because, dear lady, we could always use a good drummer," Gene smiled at her. "Doug can drum, but he'd much rather be our Dynamic Front Man."

"Too bad you don't play keyboards," Cassie huffed. "I'm getting a little tired of pulling 'double-duty.'"

"Well, no, I don't play..." Jenny admitted, glancing to her side. "But Sasha does."

* * *

Over at his corner table, the storyteller looked over what he had on his tablet, then looked up to see the five enjoying their late conversation.

He liked Dickensian endings like this. It was nice to get a glimpse at how things ended for all the characters -- who got married, who joined the band, who had kids, who held the light out for all to follow.

His eyes remained drawn to that table. Not all the endings were his to tell alone, but when it came to an ending he could not tell with pen and paper, he didn't even know where to begin. He closed his eyes and drummed his pen against his forehead.

He remembered a pair of glowing eyes like the corona of the sun during an eclipse. Eyes that had stayed with him in his dreams as well as his waking thoughts.

Casting one last glance at the table where she sat, the storyteller put his pen back into his notebook, closed it, rose to his feet, and headed out into the night. Whatever this particular story turned out to be, it did not need to be decided tonight. And however it chose to end, it did not have to do so tonight.

Not if he could help it, anyway.

END

26 October 1997
12:22 am MST

Lila Cheney, Marie-Ange Colbert, Roberto DaCosta, Etienne Delacroix, Sam Guthrie, Buford McGwynn, Danielle Moonstar, Douglas Ramsey, Rahne Sinclair, Sharon Smith, Jennifer Stavros, and Ric Torres are characters appearing (some more than others) in Marvel Comics, (c) 1998 Marvel Entertainment Group

Hector Cantolobos, Gerald "Gene" Corvus, Gilbert Dane, Jean-Piere Delacroix, Michael "Mick" MacPherson, Cassie Spangler, and Kristina Yarborough were created by and are (c) 1998 Jeremy Bottroff

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