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Editor's Note: This story contains more swearing than most stories here on the Guild.

Chapter Eleven

"That's a beautiful song."

Fries, so engrossed in the piece he was playing, jumped two inches off the piano stool and whirled on the speaker.

William wheeled into the studio and asked, "Who composed it?"

"Actually... I composed it."

"Really!? I didn't know you ever composed."

"Not seriously. And I haven't done anything in a while."

"What prompted this?"

Fries didn't want to say he had composed it thinking about Storm, who was due to come later that evening. She had occupied his mind so much he had had to release his mental torment through the only remaining way he knew how. Music.

"Well it's a helluva a lot better than the other depressing pieces you've been churning out recently," replied William. "You should write that one down."

After William left, Fries took his advice, got some blank staff paper and began to write down the basic chords and melody of the piece so he could go back and write it out properly later.

Following dinner, Fries asked his parents, "Now you both know the plan tomorrow, right?"

"Yes. We leave before ten and can't be back until seven," said William.

"Right."

"You're not going to tell us why?" asked Elizabeth.

"I'm planning something special for you and I can't have you four around to see it."

"All right, but I dislike being kept in the dark about things."

"What about the children?" said William.

"Don't worry. You can trust me with them for a day."

Elizabeth looked dubious.

"If I find anything..."

"Yes, yes, I know. Now go up to bed. I'll finish off the dishes."

Fries managed to shoo his parents and Jane and Charles off to their rooms before Storm arrived. He busied himself with cleaning up the house in semi-preparation for tomorrow, but mostly so it would keep his overactive mind off of Storm's impending arrival. He wasn't that successful.

Around an hour before midnight, he heard someone coming up the drive. He went to the door, opened it, and saw the familiar thin, tall figure walking towards him in the darkness. He walked forward to meet her, unsure of whether he should give her a hug, kiss her passionately like he wanted, just peck her cheek, or none of the above.

He opted for a hug and a peck on her cheek. So maybe the hug lasted a little longer than necessary or appropriate, but neither noticed. It went too quickly. Storm was already on the verge of tears. Fries just held her tightly, his eyes closed tightly, inhaling her spicy sent and feeling his heart about to explode from sheer elation and agony at the same time.

Finally, they parted. Fries offered to take her luggage just in case she was feeling in less of an independent and stubborn mood that evening. She was actually so exhausted she let him take her suitcase. He led her inside the house and into the kitchen.

"Did you have a good flight?"

"Not really," she replied.

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing you can do about it now. Have they gone to bed already?'

"Yes. But it would still be best for us to go up in the elevator in case we meet anyone in the stairwell."

Fries accompanied her to the third floor and followed her with her suitcase into the room he had been visiting every single day since he had arrived at the Bennet Mansion. He held his breath for a few seconds, in case she noticed anything out of its place or touched. But she just slung her things down and threw herself on her bed.

Fries hesitated. "Is there anything I can do or get for you?"

"Actually, I'm dehydrated from the flight. I should have thought of it when we were in the kitchen."

"I'll bring you some water when I come back upstairs for bed. Anything else?" A good night kiss perhaps??

"No. Just wake me up when you need me tomorrow."

"I will.

"Is everything ready?"

"I think so, so far. But I'm sure you'll find some fault."

"I would argue with that, except I'm too tired. It's 4 in the morning my time."

"I guess I don't need to wish you a good night's sleep then, do I?"

"I'll see you in the morning."

As Fries was closing her bedroom door, he said, "Don't forget to undress and get into your PJs."

Fries woke early the next morning and began to potter about the house in his robe and slippers, setting things right, looking at his list of things to do and seeing what could be done sooner rather than later. There would be a good fifty people coming, and he had to figure out where to put everyone. Thankfully, the Bennet's and Bingley's anniversary dawned sunny and relatively warm. Fries looked at the weather forecast and satisfied himself that it would be a perfect day.

Around eight o' clock, Jane came down.

"Happy anniversary, Jane," Fries said, giving his aunt a hug.

"Thank you."

"Does it feel like a long time?"

"Not really. I can't believe it's been ten years already. ...Makes me feel old!"

Fries laughed at her.

"Where are you and Charles going today?"

"Charles is surprising me. So I don't know."

"Just make sure you're back for seven."

"Come on, Fries. Why don't you tell me what the surprise is? I'm sick of being kept in the dark."

"You'll like it."

"Is it something useful?"

"I'm not saying anything more than that you will enjoy it."

"Enjoy it? Then it's something I can enjoy, huh?"

"But that could be anything, really. An object, an entertainment, an event...."

"Oh! You're so cruel, Fries!"

"I've always told you my son had a cruel streak, but you never believed me, Jane," announced Elizabeth, as she came into the kitchen.

Fries embraced his mother and wished her a happy anniversary.

Elizabeth pulled back. "Look at him! He looks so sweet and angelic, innocent. But underneath that façade, there is a cruel streak in him."

"You do me injustice, mother," chided Fries, good-naturedly.

"I was just drilling him for clues on what our surprise of the day is."

"He won't tell. I've already tried him. And he's been remarkably secretive about everything."

"I think he's going to perform for us."

"That's nothing special, though."

"Maybe we'll get our very own orchestra and he'll play a concerto."

"And where would I put this orchestra?"

"Bennet Mansion is big enough if you move things around."

"Then do I have your permission to move things around if I need to?" he asked, ingeniously.

"Sure."

"Where are your husbands? You need to be out of the house soon."

"You're being really strict about this, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Well, I'll have my mobile phone with me if anything should happen. The kids usually eat at 12:30-"

"Mum, shh, it's okay. I have everything under control. You four just go out and have a good time. But be sure to be back for seven."

Ignoring him, Elizabeth continued. "There's the emergency numbers on the fridge and the social worker's numbers are up there, too."

Jane took her sister by the shoulders and began to steer her out of the kitchen away from Fries. "And don't let them watch too much TV, and try not to let Ron have a nap because he'll be grouchy the rest of the day...."

The two couples left only fifteen minutes late. Fries was nervous, afraid that some of the guests would arrive before they had left. But he needn't have worried.

Once his parents and aunt and uncle were out of sight, Fries went upstairs to wake up Storm. Much as he disliked the thought of her being tired that day, he needed her. He knocked softly, and upon hearing no answer, he poked his nose in, finding her still wrapped up in her duvet on her bed. He walked in and picked his way around her luggage on the floor to her bed. He sat on the edge and looked at her sleeping peacefully. He held his breath, afraid she would awaken. Gently, he stroked her soft cheek, then fondled her short reddish hair. Too afraid she would awaken if he did anything else, he softly shook her and called her name. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around her old room before looking at him with a sleepy smile. She stretched like a cat, arching her back and clawing her pillow. Then she curled back into a ball, pulled the covers over her head and said, "Go away."

Fries laughed. "Storm, come on. We have a ton of work to do today. I need your help."

"You've done fine up 'til now."

"I've managed, yes, but I need you now." Fries was aware of the double meaning his statement had.

"Please? One more hour?"

"No. Go and take a shower and then you'll feel fresh and ready to go."

"Easy for you to say. You didn't cross the Atlantic yesterday."

"It's two in the afternoon your time. You should feel awake."

"My body doesn't work like that."

"Come on, Storm. Please."

She stuck one leg out from under the duvet, then the next.

" 'Atta girl."

"It's cold," she growled.

"The sooner you're in the shower and dressed the sooner you'll be warm."

Fries left her with the expectation that she would soon join him in the tasks that had to be done that day. He began to move what furniture he could out of the way, into the various rooms. He was soon interrupted by Harry, Shrek and Ron.

"Where's Elizabeth?"

"Elizabeth, William, Jane and Charles have gone out for the day, remember?"

"Oh yeah," said Ron. "Does that mean we get to do whatever we want?"

"Well, you can help me. We're having a big party tonight with lots of people who used to live in this house. Do you want to help me get ready?"

"I dunno," said Shrek. "Do we have to?"

"No, but I thought you would find it fun."

"What do we have to do?" asked Harry, warily.

"First, we get to move all the nice furniture out of this room, and then someone gets to do the vacuuming."

"Who?"

"Whoever is the best at moving the furniture. It's a game. And whoever wins, gets to do the vacuuming. The rules are that you can't drop anything, you can't hit them with anything, if you touch the walls you're out, and you have to play Simon Says with me. Do you want to play?"

"Ok," the three boys said.

"Simon Says touch your toes."

The three boys touched their toes. "Simon Says sit down." They sat down. "Simon Says stand up." They stood up. "Simon Says zip your mouth shut." They zipped their mouths shut. "Throw away the key." They threw away the imaginary key. "Uh oh!! I didn't say Simon Says!!"

"Oh man, oh man!" exclaimed Shrek as the two others groaned.

"That was just a practice run. But next time...."

Fries had them all stand in the middle of the living room. "Simon Says march behind me."

Fries marched like a soldier through the hall to the kids' playroom. He kept an eye behind him to see if they were doing as Simon said. When they got there, he said, "Simon Says halt!" They halted. "Simon Says pick up a beanbag." They each picked up a big beanbag that the children used for sitting on. "Put them in the closet." No one moved. Fries grinned. "Well done! Simon Says put them in the closet." After the beanbags were stowed away in the closet, Fries said, "Simon Says put away one game."

Harry went over to pick up the board game of Grape Escape. Shrek scooped up some interlocking plastic monkeys into their barrel. Ron gathered the Crazy Eights cards together and then the Old Maid cards. Shrek said, "Simon, Ron is putting away two games and you said only one."

Ron argued back, "They're both cards."

"Simon Says no arguing," interrupted Fries. "I'll allow one of you a mistake before you're out. Now, Simon Says stack the chairs in the corner."

There was a jostle as the boys put the plastic lawn chairs into the corner of the playroom.

"Simon Says clean up any books."

Slowly, the playroom became tidy. When Fries was satisfied, he said, "Simon Says march behind me." They marched back to the living room. "Simon Says push that armchair down the hall into the playroom." Together, they pushed the big armchair on its wheels across the living room, through the halls and into the playroom, tucking it into the corner. "Simon Says march back to the living room." When they reached the living room, "Simon Says take a rest."

They sat on the armchairs and took a breather before moving on to the rest of the furniture.

Storm meanwhile, had taken her shower and dressed. But when she discovered Fries' game of managing the boys, she couldn't help watching him in admiration for several minutes, before moving into the kitchen to call the people delivering the chairs and tables for that evening. Then she called the caterers. They had asked people to bring something for the food. A drink, a dessert, a sidedish. But they had ordered the entrée to be catered.

When she had checked and made sure things were on time, she moved back into the living room, to discover the sofa slowly making its way towards the door. She couldn't help laughing. Fries head poked over the end of the sofa at her and grinned.

"Hey! Simon didn't say to stop pushing the sofa," said Ron.

"Simon Says stop pushing the sofa. Simon Says meet Storm."

The three boys stopped moving and stared at the tall, slender woman with a sparkling diamond stud in the nose. Only the amused smile on her face eased their apprehension about this new stranger.

"Hi," she said. "This looks like a fun game. Can I play?"

Harry had a disdainful look on his face when he said, "Girls can't play."

Fries barked out before Storm could react, "Simon did not say to be mean to Storm. Simon Says apologise to her, Harry."

Harry, resentful, mumbled an apology.

Storm however, was rolling up her sleeves, and said, "Let's see who is better at this game, shall we?"

The competition was on. They heaved and tugged and soon had the sofa moving down the hall. Shrek caught sight of Storm's back brushing the wall. "Oooh!! She touched the wall, she's out!"

Fries interceded, "Storm didn't know that rule." He looked impishly at her and said, "This once, we'll let it go. The rule is that if you touch the walls, you're out."

"Oh, I see."

When they had moved the sofa into the playroom, which was now full of furniture, they walked back to the living room. "Simon Says who wants a break?"

Three small hands shot into the air.

"Game is on pause, ok? We'll come back and play after we've had a lollipop."

"Yay!" the boys exclaimed and dashed into the kitchen, obviously knowing exactly where the lollipops were kept. Storm and Fries followed at a more leisurely pace.

"Pretty effective," she said.

"I confess to having wracked my brain wondering how I would do everything and still keep the children out of trouble."

"I would never have known. It looks like you're a natural."

Fries smiled at her, and nearly stared too long at her lovely face.

"Where are the girls though?"

"I thought you were taking care of the girls."

"How sexist is that!" she snorted.

"I'm only joking. They were content to play with their dolls in Fiona's room last I checked. Would you mind going to check on them while I get the boys moving?"

"Yes, I would mind. They don't know me, Fries. How do you think they'll feel when a strange woman walks into their room?"

"Oh, that's right. Come on, I'll introduce you, and then you can start becoming their friend."

He grabbed her hand and trotted off up the stairs to the first floor. He led her down the hall to Fiona's room. He knocked and a small voice bid him enter. He opened the door and poked his head round. Storm whispered in his ear, "F***, Fries!! They're playing with dolls! How am I supposed to relate to them?"

Fries just smiled at the three small girls. "Hey girls. Are you having fun?"

"Yes."

"I have a friend I want you to meet. She's a really sweet person. But she doesn't know how to play dolls. Would you show her?"

"Sure," said Fiona, the ringleader of the threesome.

Storm pinched Fries' arm hard. He slapped her thigh and then opened the door, letting Storm in. "Girls, this is Storm. She used to live here. Her bedroom is next to mind upstairs. Storm, this is Fiona, Sally, and Emmie."

"Hi," said Storm, shyly.

Fiona moved over and said, pointing to her doll, "This is Amy."

"Uh, hi Amy," said Storm hesitantly.

"I'll just leave you girls to get acquainted. Be nice to her, won't you?" And Storm suddenly found herself alone in a pink bedroom playing dolls with three under-ten-year-olds. She silently made a mental note to kill him the next chance she had.

By lunchtime, people were beginning to arrive. The first to make the epic return to Bennet Mansion was Eva.

Fries, hearing a car on the gravel, walked out to see who it was and if he would have known them. He recognised Eva almost immediately, she still had the dimpled, rosy smile and had never gained weight or stature over the years, remaining a diminutive person.

"Good grief, Eva!" he exclaimed.

The woman smiled her trademark smile and walked forward, one hand holding a bouquet of flowers, and the other clutching a basket full of muffins and a wrapped gift. Fries hugged her warmly.

"You look well," he complimented her.

"Thank you. You've changed a lot. You've grown up."

Fries laughed.

Eva stepped back. "Fries, this is my boyfriend, David."

Fries stepped forward, smiling easily at the pleasant young man, and firmly shaking his hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you."

Eva explained, "David and I met at University."

"How long have you been together?"

"About a year now."

"Come on inside. Things are still a little crazy. You're the first to arrive."

"I had come intending to help you out. I think this is an absolutely wonderful thing you're doing. A reunion of all of their foster children."

"I figured doing one now is better than doing one for their fiftieth."

They walked inside, and Eva set her things down in the kitchen before taking David on a short tour of the home that had taken her in when she was a shadow of her current self.

Fries put Eva's gift on a table to the side of the front hall. Then he heard the beeping of a reversing truck. He went outside to discover the people bringing the rented tables and chairs had finally arrived. He watched them reverse to as close to the front door as possible, then guided them as to where they should be put.

Storm was in the computer room playing against Harry in some Harry Potter computer game she'd never played before. Needless to say, she was getting her butt whupped by an 8-year-old. And with an audience of two other boys no less.

Fries had Eva write nametag stickers for herself and David, then write directions for subsequent guests on writing nametags, instructing former foster children to label themselves by the name they went by in Bennet Mansion as well as their current name.

The tables were set up in the dining room for the food and then in the living room for everyone to eat on. Fries, David, and Storm moved the grand upright piano into the open hall in front of the front door and the grand staircase leading up to the bedrooms. Storm picked up some scribbled notes on staff paper that had fallen from the top of the piano. It was labeled, 'The Last Storm'. Fries realised what she was looking at with interest, and snatched it from her hands.

"Hey!" she cried.

He crammed them into the piano stool underneath the piles of music books.

"What was that?" she demanded.

"Oh, just some notes I'd taken down."

Fries dashed off before she could ask any more questions.

More people began to arrive, prompting Fries to attempt to organise the cars to allow more space for parking. He recognised some, some he didn't know, and some he didn't recognise at all from their former selves. The nametags helped tremendously. The table of food in the dining room filled, along with the fridge and the oven. Some families had only adopted the children recently, and had young children with them. Fries regretted filling the playroom with furniture, and managed to get enough toys out of there by climbing over the furniture to turn the computer room into a temporary playroom for younger children.

Fries kept an eye on the clock. It was five o' clock. He had two hours. Thankfully, it was warm enough outside for people to mingle and talk out there. He rushed around trying to get everything in order, taking gifts from people and putting them on or under the front table, taking food from them and putting it in the dining room or the kitchen. Greg, formerly Robin, was seeking to become a professional photographer, and he was going around taking photos of the event. Someone else had the idea to take Polaroid pictures of all the foster children and have them right notes to the Bennets and Bingleys in a book which would have their picture pasted on the page next to their message.

Fries' friends came with their instruments and set up in the corner of the living room where the tables and chairs had been set up. A harp, a flute, and an oboe. He greeted them, offered them food before they had to play, and managed to gossip a little bit about the musical world and tell them what he had been up to recently.

Finally, it was nearing seven. Fries managed to get everyone to sit down at the tables. Fries and Storm went to greet William and Elizabeth, Jane and Charles at the front door. So far, things had gone well, barring a few spilled drinks and the sheer lack of space for so many people. But people seemed happy and it was thrilling to see old housemates and catch up with them. Someone had already started gathering an email list together.

"Well?" asked Storm of Fries.

"I'll be thankful when this is over. But I'm pleased it's gone well so far."

"You should be. This is mostly your effort."

He slung an arm casually about her shoulder and she automatically wrapped hers around his waist, leaning into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"What happens after this?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"My friends in London expect you to come back and say goodbye if you're leaving."

"I know. I won't go without saying goodbye to them. They've been wonderful friends these past few months."

"Are you glad you did this?"

"Probably the biggest benefit I've received from this venture was getting to know you better."

"Me too."

He ached to kiss her, tell her he loved her, ask her if they could remain together for the rest of their lives. But instead he squeezed her shoulders affectionately.

They spotted first the Bingleys' car, and then the Bennets'. They released each other and stood, anticipating their surprise. Jane and Charles came up first, looking around at all the cars in wonder.

"What is going on?" asked Charles.

"Wait until Elizabeth and William get here," replied Storm.

"What are you doing here, Storm?" exclaimed Jane, giving her a hug.

"I flew in last night to be here for your anniversary."

"You sly thing."

Elizabeth came running up and hugged Storm, pulling the tall woman down to her stature.

Storm closed her eyes and hugged her adoptive mother tightly. She loved Elizabeth more than anyone in the world. ...Except Fries. She adored Elizabeth. When they finally parted, Elizabeth dashed a few tears out of her eyes and said shakily, "I would expect you to be the surprise, except the number of cars tell me otherwise."

William caught up with his wife and gave Storm a hug himself before demanding of Fries what was going on.

Fries grinned and said, "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Don't spoil it," he chastised.

The adults humoured the musician and closed their eyes. Fries rang the doorbell twice as a warning to those inside that they were coming. He opened the door, and took William's wheelchair, pushing him inside with Elizabeth holding onto his shoulder. Storm led Jane and Charles into the living-room-turned-dining-room after her parents. Fries stopped and said, "Okay, open them."

The Bennets and Bingleys opened their eyes to see a room full of faces from their past.

"Happy Anniversary!" everyone shouted.

Elizabeth gasped and covered her mouth, looking around and seeing one familiar face after another. In a record two seconds she was crying. Jane was faring no better. William turned to Fries and Storm in amazement, wondering how they did this, when they did this, and if they had been together all along. In the years to come, Elizabeth would be embarrassed at her reaction whenever she watched it on the film that someone had taken.

Fries couldn't get the smug look off his face and even Storm was looking a bit a like a Cheshire cat.

Eva spoke up and interrupted their surprise. "While Fries and Storm organised this, I would like to add my gratitude, and I think I speak for everyone." They all turned their attention to the small young woman. "There isn't a life in this room that you have not touched in some way, sometimes indirectly, sometimes profoundly, like myself. My memories of the early days at Bennet Mansion are vague. The only thing I do remember clearly is the unconditional love. If we shouted at you, you returned with sweet words. If we hit you, you only had hugs and kisses for us. When some of us had come from vastly different homes of... alcohol, physical and emotional abuse, Bennet Mansion was like Heaven, and you two were like God's angels. The fun only seemed to increase when you two married. I was one of the privileged who were taken to the wedding by Storm and Fries. Though it was the simplest of weddings it somehow became the sweetest I have ever seen since. You have given us so much..." Eva began to choke up with tears, her voice becoming strangled, "There will never pass a day when I don't thank God for you."

Elizabeth, also in tears from the emotions, managed to get through the tumble of people and embrace Eva.

Fries said, "If everyone would like to start going to the dining room to get some food, we can begin the banquet. I'm sure everyone will eventually have their chance to say hello to the guests of honour, our common foster parents."

People began to file into the dining room, and Storm and Fries moved to the kitchen to make sure things went smoothly. They found Laurie (formerly Tinkerbell) there coordinating a couple of other girls to help out with the food and drinks. She shooed Fries and Storm out of the kitchen. "You two have done so much work as it is. Go and enjoy your evening," she said.

Elizabeth was already making her way through the crowds of people, catching up, giving and receiving hugs and kisses, occasionally introducing her husband, William, to older foster children who had left before he came around.

The trio of musicians played softly in the background. When she had a chance, Elizabeth asked her son if they were friends of his. He offered to introduce them to her, but she said she would be able to later.

At some point, Fries managed to catch a bite of the delectable foods some people had brought. It looked like there would be leftovers for some days to come after the party ended. Before he could eat too much, someone requested him to play something for them all.

"I've heard you're a concert pianist. Could you not delight us with a piece or two? I noticed you have the piano in the hall."

William, overhearing the request, urged his son to play. "Please, Fries. I'm sure everyone would love to hear you."

Fries was dubious that everyone would like classical music. It was a matter of taste. And some people just didn't like his taste in classical music. But he obliged to play anyway. He let his musician friends know and then moved to take his seat at the piano bench, only just in view of the entrance to the room full of people. Elizabeth announced that he was about to play, and the whole house hushed up.

Fries played two pieces on his own. One, a soft and beautiful piece of Haydn, the second, a fast and furious piece of Mozart. Then he asked Jack, his oboe instrumentalist friend to accompany him on another piece by Mahler. After each song there was thunderous applause and requests for more. But after the third, he declined any requests for him to continue. He didn't want to usurp the evening. It was supposed to be a special day for his parents and his aunt and uncle.

The evening continued to proceed excellently. Fries managed to get the current occupants of Bennet Mansion into bed without too much argument. He hardly had a moment to speak to Storm, but he didn't stop thinking about her. Elizabeth caught him staring out of the window into the dark night, completely oblivious to the party going around him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He startled. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just lost in thought."

"You really were lost."

Fries smiled wanly.

"Thank you for this evening. It's really special."

"I'm glad."

"It must have taken a lot of work to organise."

Fries evaded her eyes and said, "Well, actually, Storm and I teamed up to do it."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll explain later. You haven't seen Tinkerbell, have you?"

"She's here?"

"She hasn't changed much. Last I saw her, she was busy in the kitchen. You should search her out."

"You know, this makes me feel so old. All these little children I cared for all grown up."

"Doesn't it make you feel proud? It should. The social worker's office should see this room full of changed people all because of you."

"It does make those hard, difficult days worth it."

"Good. Go on, you can talk to me anytime."

The party finally started to wind down around eleven. The people who were spending the night in the mansion helped to clean up the food, tables, chairs, and then lay out their sleeping bags on the open living room floor. Fries and Storm made Elizabeth, William, Jane and Charles go to bed and not do any of the work. Elizabeth took the book of messages and pictures with her to read in bed.

Fries was exhausted, but felt relieved it was finally over and very, very sad, since it meant the end of his excuse to spend time with Storm. Storm had similar thoughts, but also ones of satisfaction that he wouldn't be around Anastasia anymore. Not having Fries was one horrible thing, but her best friend and business partner having him was much, much worse for some reason.

Storm slumped down onto her bed and lay back, holding back the burning tears that threatened to engulf her. A knock on her door caused her to quickly wipe away any evidence of crying. "Come in."

Fries poked his head around the door and said, "Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Fries went in and sat down on the end of her bed. She lay back down, curled into a ball, her head resting on her pillow, watching Fries.

"I think it went well," he said.

"I think it went really well," she agreed. "But now what?"

"We clean up some more tomorrow morning. The rental people pick up the tables and chairs, and we spend time with Mum, Dad, Jane and Charles. Then," he sighed deeply, "we go back to our lives."

Storm was silent for a while. "You're flying back with me though."

"Yes."

"When will you leave after that?"

"My concert tour will start a week after we get back. I'm terribly short on money and need to get back into competitions and concert tours. Which means practicing a whole lot more."

"But where will you live?"

"I don't know."

"You're always welcome to continue living with me in London, you know."

Fries didn't want to live with her like a flatmate, he wanted so much more, but he said thank you anyway. Rather than torture himself anymore by her side, he decided it was time for them to get some sleep.

"Wake me up in the morning again, will you?" she asked.

"Sure. Good night."

"Good night."

Fires went back to his room and began to bang his head against the wall. "Why - can't - I - get - her - out - of - my -head??"

"Fries? Are you okay?" he heard Storm call from the hallway.

"Yes. I'm uh... just... banging a nail back into the wall."

"Okay."

Fries groaned and dropped into his chair. He didn't feel like going to bed. He wouldn't be able to sleep. He leaned on the desk and dug his hands deeply into his hair, clenching it in his fists. Music was singing in his veins and he had to go play. He couldn't resist it anymore. If he didn't release the insanity through music, he would probably lose all control and kiss Storm passionately. So rather than risking himself to ridicule and complete censure, he dashed down the two flights of stairs and made for the practice room at a quiet jog so as not to disturb the people sleeping in the living room.

Thankfully the upright had been moved back into its normal home after its brief sojourn in the hall. He shut the door behind him, flipped the lid of the piano open, and plopped down onto the bench, moving the stool back to adjust for his height. He rested his hands on the piano before they moved into autopilot, playing the piece that had been haunting his mind for several days, the one he had finally named 'The Last Storm'. He added some bits, changed a few notes, a few rhythms, and mentally began to add dynamics and tempo markings. When he had played it through several times, he got out his scribbled notes that Storm had seen for a brief moment. He expanded his scribbles on paper into more of a legible notation.

When he got fed up with writing it down, he moved on to compose a second movement to the piece, capitalising on his mental insanity of unrequited love. The first movement ended up being haunting. The second was turning out to be angry, containing all the frustration and hurt he was feeling. He couldn't help it. It seemed to be flowing out of his fingers unconsciously. Before he forgot it, he sat down to write the chords and melody down. Glancing at his watch he discovered that it was three in the morning. He didn't care. He turned back to the music. He wasn't near tired enough to sleep yet. He didn't want to write the third movement yet. If he did, it would sound too much like the second. He would wait. He sat back to look at his work. Fairly decent. Maybe he could add an orchestral section it- interweave the themes between instruments.

Tired of playing composer, he began to play his selection of angry/frustrated songs. Not the sad songs, but the angry/frustrated songs. In his mind, pieces were compartmentalised into categories that would lead him to play them as an expression of his emotion. There was humour, with songs like the Flight of the Bumblebee and the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2. There were the exhaustive songs like Rachmaninov concertos, and there were the beautiful songs like Debussy and Chopin, and somber songs like Chopin's Prelude in C sharp minor.

A movement caught the corner of his and he whirled, his heart leaping to his mouth as William's figure in the doorway startled the life out of him.

"Sorry," William said. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I didn't mean to wake you up. I'll stop now."

"No, no. I just happened to wake up and heard it faintly down here. I got up to come and see why you would be up at four in the morning playing ferociously."

"I just couldn't sleep."

"I don't see why, considering you must have been working on this party for days now."

"Well, actually it was months, but that was just off and on."

"Months?"

"Well, we started planning it around August or September."

"Good grief."

"It took a bit of finagling to get all the names of Elizabeth and Jane's former foster children."

"I bet. I hate dealing with the social office. But you're changing the subject. Why are you up at this hour of the morning?"

"I told you. I couldn't sleep."

"Now, most people would pop a sleeping pill if it got this bad, or they would get a glass of warm, sweet milk. Or if they were someone more like you, they might just come down here and play some sweet lullabies. But not you. You're playing outright concert pieces of grandiosity one after another. Are you telling me, this is helping you sleep??"

"So people are different. So what?"

William moved closer to his son, quietly shutting the door behind him. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

"I don't believe you. Is it something to do with me or your mother?"

"No."

"About Jane?"

"Not at all."

"Then what is it?"

"I... you wouldn't understand," Fries protested lamely.

"Try me."

He gave in. "I'm in love with this girl- woman."

"And... this is a bad thing?"

"It is when she only sees me as a friend."

"Do you know this?"

"Yes."

"You've implied stronger feelings and she's said let's just be friends, has she?"

"Well, no, not exactly."

"Have you told her how you feel?"

"No! I couldn't do that!"

"Um... and why not?"

"Because, then she would know about it."

William took a breath to gather his patience. "How do you know she doesn't feel the same way if you haven't told her?"

"Wouldn't she show it somehow if she did love me?"

"Not necessarily. Women are odd beings. They can hide things from us and we will never even know. They can be upset and extremely angry at you, but won't show a bit of it. But the killer is when they expect you to know they're angry. This will be the most valuable piece of advice I can ever give you. Never, never, never, never, never, never, never assume you know what a woman is thinking or feeling. Inevitably, you are wrong. Now... assuming that you do not know what this woman is thinking, you must act accordingly. You must intimate your feelings and ask her how she feels."

"Oh my goodness f***ing gracious!! (As Storm would put it.) I cannot believe you are giving me this lecture!!" Fries got up to start pacing around the small studio. "I'm sorry, my memory must be fading, but can you tell me just exactly how long you loved Mum before ever telling her? Would you please tell me how you ended up telling her? Oh wait, now I remember. In a courtroom! Did you tell it to her face? No. Did you ever ask her? No. How long were you married to her before you ever told her you loved her? How long before you married her did you love her and never told her?" Fries was laughing a little maniacally.

"Hey, hey, hey. This is exactly why I should be giving you this speech. I am trying to get you to learn from my mistakes. You tell her because you don't want to spend weeks into months of misery. Trust me, it will make you depressed."

Fries dropped back down onto the piano stool, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and bury his face in his hands. "I know it's making me depressed, but I honestly don't see how I could tell her. She has given me absolutely no indication of her feelings for me. And if I do say something and she doesn't feel anything for me, then what? I feel like a fool and even more depressed, and I'm at a dead end."

"But what's your alternative? Living a life of limbo and wonder? Focus on the other what if. What if she does love you, and you never say or do anything to indicate your feelings for her, and then you make her unhappy, you're unhappy, and you both stay that way."

"Why can't she be the one to stick her neck out on the line and tell me she loves me if that's true?"

"Because history and general tradition has dictated that the man be the aggressive one and the woman the passive one."

Fries was about to make some kind of comment about his love not being the type to bother with gender roles in society, but thought that would be too obvious a hint for who she was.

William continued, "Or you could always get a third party to find out for you. Then you don't lose face to her and you gain the knowledge you need to make a decision about it. Come on. Tell me who she is and I'll ask her if she has the hots for my son."

"William," Fries whined, giving him a gentle shove in reaction to the teasing.

"I take it you're not going to tell me who she is."

"Nope."

"That leads me to believe that she must be someone I know. Was she ever our foster child?"

"Give up, William. I don't want you to know and you should respect my wishes."

"Oh, all right then. If you put it that way. Though I do think you are losing a valuable potential ally."

"If I need one, I will keep you informed. As it is, I am going to bed."

"Finally."

"Come on, you said I didn't wake you up."

"Yes, but once awake I couldn't back to sleep again."

"I will see you in the morning."

Fries walked out of the piano room leaving William behind in thought.

Chapter Twelve

Jane made a large communal breakfast from the leftovers the following morning for all the people who had slept over, the children, and the family. The last of the former foster children left that afternoon, having helped put the house back into order again.

When the last had left the house, Elizabeth turned immediately to Storm and Fries, and said, "You two have a lot of explaining to do."

They sat in the living room by the roaring fire, nursing coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. The four older adults looked at the two younger in expectation of some explanation.

Fries looked at Storm who looked back at him. "You should tell," she said.

"Why should I be the one?" he retorted.

"Because it was your idea."

"No, it wasn't, you invited me."

"It doesn't matter!" Elizabeth interrupted. "Somebody tell me what's going on."

Fries started, "We had the plan about the party a long time ago. So in order for us to organise it, Storm invited me to live with her for several months. It would also allow us to spend time together, get to know each other, and so on. So back in the end of August, I moved in with Storm. Um... then last night we had the party, and that uh, pretty much brings you up to date."

"Hold on, hold on. You mean you've been living with Storm for five months!!"

"Was it five months?" Fries asked Storm.

"It didn't seem like five months," she replied.

"Maybe it was four months."

"Maybe."

Elizabeth leaned her head against William, who patted it patronisingly.

"It was good. I made new friends."

"My friends," interrupted Storm.

"Yes, your friends, but they're mine now, too. And I've been playing a few concerts here and there."

"He came to the Madrigal Dinner at Henrietta's. You remember, the one we go up to every year since college."

"That was pretty neat."

"But why didn't you tell us?" asked Jane.

"And ruin the surprise?" replied Storm.

"We knew Fries was cooking something up, but we had no idea what, or even that you were involved at all."

"Good. Did you enjoy it?" asked Storm.

"Of course."

"Well you guys can organise the next one in ten years."

"Ha, we'll see."

"When are you two returning to London?" asked Charles.

"The day after tomorrow."

"That is a shame."

"I know, but I have to get back to Wild Iris. I'm nervous about leaving Anastasia there on her own this whole time. It means she's working extra hours."

"And I have to get back to practicing and performing. I haven't done my usual amount while I've been with Storm."

"We'll have to make the most of your time here, then, won't we?" replied Elizabeth briskly.

"What do you suggest we do, then?" asked Storm.

"We could see how long Storm can go without swearing," teased Charles.

She scowled, "What's the fun in that?"

Fries couldn't help chuckling though.

"We could go somewhere."

"I'm too tired," said Fries.

"That's because you were up until four in the morning."

Fries glared at William.

"What were you doing up at four in the morning?" asked Elizabeth.

"Just couldn't sleep."

William was conspicuous in his looking away from his wife.

Fries interrupted her next query by saying, "Why don't we do something fun but simple. Play a boardgame or something."

"Like Monopoly?"

"Or Pictionary."

"You'd be hard pressed to find adult games like that in this house," put in Jane.

"I'm sure if you looked in the attic long enough you would find something," replied Elizabeth.

"Not it."

"Not it."

"Not it."

"Not it."

"Not it."

William said, "Well you know I can't maneuver around the attic, so I can't go."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "How did I get to be the one?"

"You weren't fast enough."

"Yes, I see that," she snapped, good-naturedly, as she got up to go fetch a game from the attic.

When she'd gone, Jane suggested they clear off the dining room table to make space. Charles and William went off to do that while Jane went to the kitchen to find something for them to nibble on, probably from the leftovers.

Storm got up from her chair to stare out of the french windows into the garden as rain began to fall more and more heavily. Fries watched her figure in silent contemplation. Then she said in a quiet voice, "Did I ever tell you I love the rain?"

It seemed the sort of question that needed no answer, so Fries gave none.

"It doesn't seem to rain in England like it does here. Not that I prefer one or the other. England can have days of light, steady rain. Whereas the clouds here can only seem to drop their entire load in a short space of time. As if they're too tired to carry the weight of the rain anymore and want to rid themselves of it now." She paused for several minutes, then continued. "There's something about the rain that makes me feel happier. Most people I've said that to have thought I was weird. Especially Britons, they love the sunshine because they don't get enough of it. But I rarely wish for some sun. It's not like I can tan, I don't enjoy the beach.... And sometimes I wonder how this manifests itself in my character in other ways. Though Elizabeth always encouraged us to be ourselves, I know I still went along with the crowd in high school. I may have led the crowd sometimes, but I was still in the crowd. But when I went to university in London, I was determined to be myself. And I did only what I wanted to do, what made me happy. And sometimes it was going to see a movie with a couple of friends, a lot of times it was to read a good book on my own and stay in. Every now and then someone would tell me I should get out more, that I should be more social, that it was unhealthy to live like I did. And maybe if I was more extreme it would be unhealthier, but I didn't want to go out for the sake of being out of my room. If there were something fun to do, I would go. But I didn't enjoy the nights of drinking my classmates went on." She laughed a short laugh. "People called me reclusive. It was only after meeting Anastasia that I became more balanced."

She seemed to stop there, as though she had said something she regretted. Fries stood and said in a quiet, but sure voice, "I wouldn't have you changed for anyone or anything." He walked out of the living room to check on the children in the playroom.

Storm, still staring at the rain through the window, lent her forehead against the cool window and closed her eyes to prevent the tears from seeping out. She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to control herself. She would have to appear normal in scarce few minutes. Her head ached and she wanted to lie down and sleep forever. But she couldn't. She had precious little time to spend with Elizabeth, William, Jane and Charles. She wanted to make the most of it while she could. She didn't know when the next time she would be able to see them. Most likely not until the following Christmas. Unless... unless Fries married Anastasia before then. Then... they would come to London. If that were where the... the event took place.

This was not helping her recover.

"Storm?" It was Jane. "Are you all right?"

Storm nodded but Jane came to her side nonetheless and put a loving, gentle arm around her. Storm did her damndest to hold in her sobs, but she rested her head on Jane's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Jane didn't press for information, she just issued a kind invitation to confide. Storm couldn't, as much as she wanted to. Only one person knew her dilemma, and he was several thousand miles away, most likely still in bed.

"Nothing," she whispered.

Jane's arm rubbed her back soothingly. The quiet time together was what Storm needed to collect herself. She took a deep breath again, with more confidence this time. She stood straight with resolve to continue facing the world. Jane produced a kleenex for her to wipe the residue of tears from her face. Storm smiled wanly.

"Is it something related to here and now?"

Storm shook her head. "No, it's completely unrelated."

Jane guided her into the dining room and briskly said, "Are we ready to start?"

"What are we playing?" asked Fries.

Elizabeth slid the box onto the dining room table and said, "I could only find Pictionary. Kind of old and prosaic-"

"No, no. It's been ages since I've played this game and it's much more fun with more people," replied Fries. "How are we splitting up into teams?"

"Three v. three? Or three teams of two?"

"I think pairs would be more fun," said Elizabeth. "How about William and Jane, Fries and Charles, and Storm and I? Does that split us up evenly?"

"I don't think it's fair you and Storm get to pair up together," protested Charles.

"Are you saying you prefer Storm over me?" laughed Fries.

"No, but I just think Elizabeth and Storm must be good artists, so they shouldn't be together."

Jane burst into laughter. "Elizabeth? An artist?"

Elizabeth pouted. "Hey. Let's not be mean or anything."

"I withdraw my protest," announced Charles.

They played for three hours. The game provided plenty of entertainment, laughs at other's expense, and some good-natured bickering. It was a pleasant way to spend a rainy afternoon.

At one point, William said, "I do miss you two a lot. You should come home and visit more often."

"It's hardly like you're suffering from empty-nest syndrome," retorted Fries.

"No, but it doesn't diminish our yearning to see you two."

"We'll try," replied Storm.

After William and Jane had won the game with Elizabeth and Storm close behind, Jane and Fries went off to begin cooking supper. Storm took up the used pieces of paper with pitiful drawings and put them in the recycling bin, then cleaned up the board game and gave it to Elizabeth to put back into the attic.

"We must take a family picture," said Elizabeth.

Storm groaned. "No, Elizabeth. I hate taking pictures.'

"Do it for me," pleaded Elizabeth.

Storm couldn't resist her mother, so she gave in.

While supper was cooking in the oven, Elizabeth arranged the family in the living, set up the camera on a tripod, set the timer, and took several pictures of the six of them. Then Jane took a couple with just the Bennets.

When it was over, Elizabeth kissed Storm's cheek. "Thank you love, you're so patient."

"What about me?" protested William. "Wasn't I patient?"

Elizabeth smirked, "You have no choice but to be patient."

William caught her about the waist and she fell into his lap. "You better be careful what you wish for," he said in a husky voice. They began kissing.

Fries and Storm looked at each, turned and left the couple. "It's kind of sweet, you must admit," Fries said to Storm, hoping he covered up his wish that he could do the same to Storm.

The children were fed and tucked into bed before the adults sat down to a more leisurely meal. The conversation soon turned to the fostercare system.

Fries was the one to introduce the subject. "I read in some newspaper that the state is removing more and more children from parents and overloading the system. However you're not at full capacity."

"Yes, that is true. However the children taken from parents are not taken from abusive or unfit parents, but it is more for other (silly, in my opinion) reasons. There was one Florida family that had their children taken away solely because the house was overcrowded and the electricity and water were cut off because their working father couldn't keep up with the bills. Even when the community raised $13,000 to help the family, the child welfare agency wouldn't give the children back. Or the there's another case in Missouri where a mother lost her job as a home-health aide and then lost her rented house. When she asked the child-welfare agency for help, they took her children. There were some kids in New Jersey taken from loving parents solely because of housing problems- and because there was a rich suburban couple that wanted to adopt them. Sound familiar?? The caseworker said he was told by his supervisor that 'children should be taken away from poor parents if they can be better off elsewhere', and when the caseworker wouldn't go along, he was fired. These cases are a lot more common than the really bad parents that I have to deal with. The kids from those backgrounds are the ones coming to me, and I thank God that I can say I have had much less demand in recent years. But I'm still worried because kids are suffering when they are put into the foster care system. It's not a great system as it is, and to overload it is just asking for trouble. Children are often moved around a lot and as you two well know, foster parents can be just as bad as real parents."

*This came from a letter in the Christian Science Monitor, a national newspaper.

Fries, who had suffered the most abuse from a foster father, could fully attest to what she was saying, and it was distressing to him that things were getting worse. He felt almost guilty at having had such a great life in general, while some children were suffering in a messed up system.

"There are new laws being put into place that the press are lauding, but I honestly see it as middle-class entitlement. Get a poor child of your very own and believe that you're doing something good."

Storm interrupted Elizabeth, "But isn't that what you're doing in a sense? Don't the kids you foster eventually go to middle-class homes?"

"The state decides the suitability of the family, not me. I don't have any choice in the matter, much as I would like to. The only power I have is to give it to the child and if they would rather stay in this temporary home than go to that family, then I will put my foot down and refuse to cooperate. And fortunately, I have a caseworker who understands my principles, and accepts them. But before I even see the families, they've gone through a screening process by the state. If they're unmarried, that's negative, poor is negative, uneducated is negative, any kind of criminal record is negative, there's all sorts of things. That's why William and I married in the beginning was because as a single woman, technically without a job, I would never have a chance of adopting you two. The only other thing I could do is send the fosterchild back to their real family. But since the cases I get are extreme, I've never done that. If it was just a question of finances, then maybe I would take some kids on to give both the parents a relief from caring for them, allow them to find a job, pay off bills, get a house or apartment, and then the kids go back."

"Do you want to take on some of those kids?" asked Charles.

"I don't think it would be a smart idea. We're geared up differently."

Slowly the conversation moved away to different topics, but Fries continued to brood over the current situation. He wished he could think of something he could do. But apart from playing the piano, there wasn't much he could do.

William made sure Fries went to bed and stayed there that evening. So he lay in bed staring at the ceiling for two hours before slowly drifting to sleep.

The rain cleared up the next day, but it was still too cold and damp to be out and about. So they spent another quiet day inside the house. The children were taken to school by Jane in the morning, and William had some work to do while Charles went to work in the city. So Elizabeth was able to spend more time with Fries and Storm alone. They talked about things, watched a favourite movie together, and then the four Bennets went out to lunch.

Fries spent the afternoon practicing, while Elizabeth was able to have some alone time with her daughter. They decided to go shopping in the city. Elizabeth rarely had the opportunity to shop for herself, and needed some clothes. Storm preferred the cheaper styles in America to the expensive ones in London.

In the van on the way, Elizabeth asked, "Are you happy with where you are?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you wish you were in a different career? Are you happy with what you do, with who you are, where you are in life?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"You don't sound convinced."

"I'm not convinced. I enjoy doing what I do, I love living in London, I have wonderful friends there."

"It sounds like there's a 'but' in your voice."

"Well... having Fries in the flat these past few months has been a big change for me, and I've gotten used to having someone there when I got home, someone to do things with. I'm going to be lonely when he leaves."

"That's perfectly understandable. You can ask William and he'll attest to the fact that I had the same feelings once. This was before we married, of course. I had much fewer friends than you. Basically just Charles and William."

"But you have a house full of people."

"Full of responsibility. The only people I could have an intelligent, equal conversation with was you and Fries. Fries has never been a talker, and you didn't think it was cool to talk to your fostermother at the time."

"That's not true," she protested.

Elizabeth gave her a look that implied that she was very much like that.

"Having William makes a world of difference. Sure, we bicker sometimes about things, especially when I get stressed, but he's always there when I need a hug and a kiss."

"So you're saying I should get married," Storm said in a flat voice, staring out of the passenger window.

"I would hardly ever say to you that you should get married just fulfill your need for companionship. But I don't want your feminist tendencies-" Storm snorted- "to get in the way. Being half of a meaningful relationship is a blessing, never a burden, if it is founded on firm footing. You wouldn't be selling yourself or your beliefs if you found someone understanding."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Elizabeth didn't reply for a few minutes, then she said, "Sometimes I wonder if you're beliefs are causing you to wall yourself off from the world. Yes, it can be a cruel place, yes, you've had difficulties in life, but it's no reason for you to cut yourself off from the world."

"I'm not. Ask Fries."

"I have."

Storm's head snapped round to look at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth ignored her and said, "He didn't ever say as much, but I've surmised."

"You're skills are failing you, Elizabeth, because I'm fine."

"Yet you said you were lonely."

Storm sighed in exasperation. "I promise you I won't turn down a nice, handsome, rich man."

"You know that's not what I meant. If you loved someone, and they loved you, would you take that step to marriage? Or if you don't believe in that institution, would you take it to whatever you think the next step of commitment is? That's what I'm talking about."

"Ok, Storm, what's you're greatest fear?"

"Easy. Falling in love."

"Are you joking?" asked Ana. "Not death or losing your parents or something like that?"

Storm shook her head. "Nope. Well, I am sort of afraid of those things too, but my greatest fear is falling in love?"

"Why?"

"That's a second question."

"I answered a second question," Ana replied.

"I don't know why. No one can explain why they're mortally afraid of heights or spiders or snakes, they just are."

"Yes, they can. Those things are deadly."

"I can't f***ing explain it," said Storm. "Don't keep asking me."

"I... I will give it some thought."

Elizabeth knew she couldn't push Storm farther than that. She just took Storm's slender hand in her own and said, "I only worry because I love you."

Storm smiled wanly. "I know."

They spent a quiet afternoon shopping in the centre of the city. They had an early supper and then drove home to help put the children to bed.

The time the girls had spent away from the Mansion, allowed Fries and William to have one more heart to heart about Fries' current least favourite topic- his love interest. He hated anyone referring to Storm as his 'love interest'. It sounded so trite and... temporary, as if it was a passing fancy, which Fries knew it wasn't.

"What are you going to do about this girl you love?" William asked. "And don't say nothing, because that's the worst thing you could do."

"I can't speak to her about it, though."

"Fries, don't let your fear of rejection lead you to make the biggest mistake of your life."

"I don't fear rejection- well, I do, but- I fear losing the relationship we already have."

"Look at it like a business proposal-"

"And I would know how to make a business proposal... how?"

"Let me finish. Look at it like a business proposal and assess the risks. Is the reward that would come out of telling her worth the risk of that relationship."

"No."

"No? You don't want to give that a bit more thought??"

"It's not like I know that if I asked her, there would be a fifty/fifty chance of her saying she requited my love. That's a pretty big variable for assessing risk."

William was impressed, and defeated. "Fine. Then you do research to diminish that variable."

"William!" Fries was frustrated and upset by this conversation. "I don't like talking about St- about her as if she was a business proposal!"

"All right, all right," William replied, gently. "I can understand that. But look. You have two options, each with their own possible outcomes. Option one is to do nothing, in which the three outcomes are A) you two never get together; B) she hooks up with someone else eventually; and C) she comes to you about her own feelings. But you could be waiting and waiting for that to happen and it might never ever happen, so your whole life would be on hold, waiting for her to make the move. So option one is pretty bleak. Option two is to tell her. Three possible outcomes. A) she could jump into your arms and you live happily ever after; B) she says 'maybe, let me think about it' and at least you have a shot at it; C) she could say No and the friendship may or may not be ruined. If the friendship is not ruined, you've lost nothing and you will have to move on. If the friendship is ruined... well that's what you're worrying about. But, if you're going to live your whole life pining after her, and if you're not going to actively pursue her, then you will eventually have to move on and find another woman, right? You fall in love with someone else and this current woman loses that status. Can you even see yourself loving someone else? If not, then by not going after her, you are sentencing yourself to a life of being alone."

Fries couldn't argue with William's logic.

After a silence in which William recognised Fries' defeat, he said, "Think on what I said. Don't do nothing. And don't walk away and ignore it. Address it, face it, and be happy. Then call me and tell me all about it, ok?"

Fries smiled a wry smile, shaking his head.

William then sobered and said, "I'm serious, Fries."

"I know quite well you are serious, but that doesn't make this any easier for me. It's fine for you to sit there and tell me what I should do, but you're not the one who has to do it. And you didn't do it when you were in my shoes."

"We've gone over this before, and I don't want you to make the same mistake as me."

"Okay. Fine. We've established that you don't want me to be a loser. Now let's move on."

William was going to protest what he said, but gave up, and asked, "Where do you go from here?"

"I go back to my concert tours and earn a living again. I'm getting really low on money. Living in London is damned expensive."

"Well you know if you ever need financial help...."

"I know, you'll help me, but that's a last resort for me. I hate asking you two for money."

"You are our son. The fact that we adopted you at such a late age does not change that fact. Of course we will support you."

"Which is more than a lot of real sons could say."

"Exactly."

"But I could just imagine my asking for some help, and you giving it to me on the condition that I tell this woman that I love her."

William smiled, "That's a good idea."

Fries threw back his head and groaned.

"Come on," William said. "I hear the kids returning from school."

When Storm and Elizabeth returned, William sought to speak with Storm alone. He asked her to come into his office for a second when Fries wasn't looking. She followed him into the study, and William asked her to shut the door behind her. She closed it and then turned to him, wondering what this was all about.

"Since you and Fries have been living together for a while, I was wondering if you have noticed him behaving funny recently."

"Not that I know of," replied Storm, her confusion still apparent on her face.

"He seems distressed, as if he were lovesick or something."

Storm blanched and looked down as if one of her rings was bothering her. "So what are you asking me?"

"Do you know of any woman he would be in love with?"

William was unknowingly twisting the knife that pierced her heart. The pain was acute. What should she say? Yes, I do know who it is, her name is Anastasia and she has two personalities? Or should she say no, and profess ignorance?

William mistook her silence for a reluctance to betray a confidence. "You don't have to tell me who she is if you don't want to. But I was worried about him. It seems like he's just not going to do anything about it. I was wondering if you could persuade him since I cannot."

"You-" she cleared her throat and tried again, still looking down. "You mistake our relationship to be one of confidence. If he will not listen to you, he will hardly listen to me."

"Try, would you? For me? For Fries?"

She nodded. "I'll try. Can I go now? I have to pack."

"Sure. Thank you, Storm."

Storm quietly left the study and sought for somewhere to cry her eyes out. It had to be somewhere fast for the tears were already coming. She was impressed with herself at holding them in this long. The only place she could go without running into someone, was the garage. She closed the door behind her and let out a long, loud sob, her breath heaving. She collapsed on the steps of the doorway and buried her face in her arms and knees. She couldn't remember ever feeling this miserable and broken in her life. Frank dumping her and abusing her was nothing compared to this. Her nails dug into her skin as thoughts of suicide flashed through her head side by side with images of Fries. She couldn't explain why he was so precious to her, but the thought of standing by, watching him go off with Anastasia was one she knew she would be unable to bear. She would have to leave London. Maybe Fries would want to buy the flat off her.

She heard a sound behind her and bit her lip to stop the sobs from escaping her. The door opened, and Storm, startled, looked behind her to see who it was. It was Sally, who looked as startled to see this strange woman crying in the darkness of the garage as Storm was to see the little girl. Sally closed the door behind her and, with eyes wide, said in a small voice, "Hi."

"Hi," Storm managed to croak out.

"What are you doing here?" Sally asked.

"Just being by myself."

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I- because I am unhappy."

"Why?"

"I don't know," she lied, not wanting to continue the game of asking 'Why?' to every reply she gave.

"Elivabeff sent me to get some french fries from the cooler."

"Do you need help?"

"No, I can do it."

Storm watched the timid little girl walk up to the large cooler, pull over a box to stand on, open the lid, and then lean all the way down into it until she nearly fell in, then pulled out a bag of frozen french fries. The lid banged shut, and Sally got down, clutching the icy cold bag to her body.

Sally walked toward the door, but instead of leaving Storm alone, asked, "Come on. Aren't you coming?"

Storm wanted to say no, but the effect of the little girl's presence had calmed her and ceased her tears, so fascinated she was in watching her. She also realised that Sally would most likely mention that she had seen Storm in the garage, which would definitely raise questions. So Storm wiped the tears off her face with her sleeve, stood up and followed Sally out of the garage. She stopped in the bathroom in the hall to look at her face in the mirror, give it a good splash with water, wash her hands, and then, feeling refreshed, but absolutely no better, walked into the kitchen to prepare the meals.

The adults spent another quiet evening around the fire talking. Fries, however, was quiet, not speaking unless spoken to directly. He was pondering William's urgings. He kept running through in his mind what could happen if he did say something to Storm. Every now and then, his eyes would involuntarily rest and hold on her, gazing intently at her. She looked haggard and unhappy. He wondered what could be the reason for her sadness, and found himself aching to comfort her. They would have the opportunity to talk during the eight-hour flight. He promised himself to ask her what was wrong. That was it. Just that. Nothing more. Then, he caught himself staring and looked away in embarrassment.

Storm was no more talkative. She dreaded going back to London where Anastasia would no doubt be waiting to greet Fries. She considered her options about what to do with her life. Find another profession, find another city to live in, get away and start over with a new life. She toyed for a few seconds with the idea of maybe following in Elizabeth's footsteps and fostering children. But the reason it didn't last for more than a few seconds was the mere - but important - fact that she would never make a good foster mother. She would think upon what to do when she returned to London.

Fries and Storm retired early to pack and get some decent sleep for the flight the next day. When he had finished all of his packing, he snuck downstairs to his piano studio. He opened up the lid, pulled 'The Last Storm' out of the piano bench, and began to play it again. Less than a minute after he started, William opened the door, and said, "Go to bed, Fries."

"William, I'm a grown man, you know."

"Not in this house, you aren't." His tone wasn't mean or cruel, but rather stern and gentle. "Go on, off to bed."

"I can't sleep."

"You haven't even tried."

"Fine," Fries grumbled. He gathered up all the notes he had made on the piece about Storm and stalked off to bed. William closed the piano studio behind him and went back into his office.

He hadn't been there more than a minute when Elizabeth came in, walked behind the desk, grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, and began to push him out of the office.

"Hey!" he cried.

"You are such a hypocrite!" she exclaimed. "You need to go to bed early too. Come on."

"But, but, my work!"

"Can be done tomorrow."

"Elizabeth!"

She leaned down and kissed him, successfully shutting him up. "Come to bed," she said in a low voice.

"Ok."

The next morning, the children were sent off to school, and then the six adults had a leisurely breakfast. Charles delayed going to work so he could take Fries and Storm to the airport on his way. Finally, the time came for them to leave. The suitcases were put in Charles' car, and everyone gathered to say goodbye. First Jane, then William and Elizabeth.

Elizabeth hugged her tall son. "Don't be so long about coming to visit us and calling us now, okay?"

"I promise," he said, kissing her cheek and hugging her tightly.

As William shook his hand and gave him a (manly) hug, he said softly, "Remember what I said. Don't hesitate to call me."

Fries didn't reply, he just hugged William back.

Storm kissed Elizabeth goodbye. "You need to come back more often, too," Elizabeth admonished.

Storm managed a smile. "I'll try. Maybe if I get a different job."

Fries happened to hear this and wondered at it. Was Storm considering moving on from Wild Iris?

Storm said goodbye to William, and then the three of them got into the car, and drove down the drive, waving goodbye at the three remaining. When they were out of sight of Bennet Mansion, Storm slumped against the window, resting her head against the cold glass.

Charles observed, "If you're that upset at leaving Bennet Mansion, you really should come back and visit more often."

"It's difficult. It leaves my assistant running the shop all on her own."

"Can't you hire people?"

Fries laughed shortly. "She won't."

"It shouldn't be too difficult finding someone you like. Choose from your clientele."

"I'll think about it," Storm replied, noncommittally.

They drove to the airport, with Charles and Fries supplying almost all of the conversation. Charles dropped them off, hugged them goodbye, and then drove to work leaving Fries and Storm to check in and wait for the flight.

When they had checked their luggage and sat down at the gate to wait for their flight to start boarding, Fries decided to ask Storm what was upsetting her.

"Storm," he said.

"Hmm?" She didn't look up from book she was pretending to read.

"What's wrong?"

She looked up, genuinely confused and surprised. "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

"No, I mean, you look really upset about something, like a big problem is bothering you."

"I don't know of anything," she lied, returning to her book so he couldn't see and read her face.

"Storm, look at me."

Reluctantly, she looked up from her book.

"You can trust me with anything," he said, quietly.

"I know."

His eyes were hypnotic, his voice soft and soothing. "Tell me what's making you so upset."

She nearly did. She nearly opened her mouth said, 'You love Anastasia and not me.' Thankfully, she didn't. She just whispered, "I can't."

"Why can't you?" he prompted. "Is it about me? Have I done something?"

She tried a smile as she shook her head, but the quivering mouth just wouldn't obey. Her eyes involuntarily filled with tears and she cursed herself several times with her foulest language for being such crybaby recently.

For Fries, this was the last straw he could take. Without a word, he gathered her into his arms, and she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder and quietly weeping. He rubbed her back and asked her again, begged her, pleaded with her to tell him what was wrong. But she couldn't, she wouldn't. And this hurt Fries more than any of the insults she had ever given him. She was closing herself off from him, they were coming apart, returning to what they had been before he had moved in. A distant relation never spoken to.

When she could manage, she pulled away, and rubbed at her red eyes. "I wish you would talk to me," he said.

"I can't. Please, Fries. Don't keep asking me to."

"Will you tell me someday?"

She sighed. "Yes, someday I will tell you," though she doubted she would keep that promise.

Their flight was called, and they prepared to board, waiting in the line to have their passports and boarding tickets checked. They were seated together next to the window. Fries let her have the window seat while he settled for the one by the aisle. She stowed her carryon, and then laid her head against the small pillow, successfully falling into an exhausted sleep within minutes.

Fries did not cease to worry about her. He was grateful for the opportunity to watch her while she slept. Her disturbance wasn't apparent then, and she looked her more beautiful, peaceful self - or so Fries thought. But he still worried, wondered, and loved her. He amused himself with reading, watching one of the in-flight movies, and eating the horrible meals served. He even managed to spill some of it on his shirt, and softly swore as Storm would have.

Storm somehow managed to stay inert for almost the entire flight. She thought this would successfully avoid any need to talk. At one point early on in the flight, she became cold, rubbing her arms and shivering. Fries, noticing her discomfort, took one of the blankets in their plastic wrapping, opened it, and tenderly tucked it around her. She was conscious enough only to shift her position so that she was resting her head on his shoulder. Fries debated for about two seconds whether he should do it, before he wrapped his arm around her, snuggling her closer to him. His cheek rested against her short red hair, and he sighed in contentment. It was an hour later when she got up to go to the bathroom. When she came back, Fries asked, "Do you want me to wake up for dinner or lunch or whatever it is they serve?"

"No."

"At least drink something."

"No."

"Storm, you'll be dehydrated. You must drink something." He offered his own soda, which she took and downed in two gulps, giving him back the cup full of ice, then pulling the blanket around her and closing her eyes again.

Fries wished she would settle against his shoulder again, but knew not to hope too hard.

Finally, they landed, and waited to leave the plane. They went through immigration, got their luggage, went through customs, then took the train into central London. From Victoria station, they caught a taxi to Storm's flat.

Storm opened her flat, dumped her luggage to the side of the door, and then flopped onto the couch. Fries, who came in behind her, said, "That's my bed. You have your own."

"It's my couch," she argued back.

Fries moved into the kitchen to start preparing a quick meal. He raided the freezer and set something going in the oven before flopping beside her on the couch.

"Now I remember why I don't go home that often," she mumbled.

"Come on, you just have to get used to it. I fly all the time."

"You also probably fly first class usually."

"Depends."

There was a long lull in the conversation. Then Fries asked, "Do you want me to call Anastasia and let her know we're here."

"Sure, whatever," she mumbled.

He got up with a grunt, and grabbed the phone. He dialed her number from memory, Storm noted. A few rings later, he said, "Hi Stacy, how are things?... Great, that's wonderful. ...Yeah, we got back a few minutes ago. ...Storm is passed out on the couch." He laughed. "No, not literally, but I don't think she flies well."

Storm yelled, "Stop talking about me, I'm right here."

Fries chuckled. "Yep, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow afternoon. I assume we'll be recovering from jetlag in the morning. ...Bye."

He pulled dinner out of the oven and dished it into plates. "Come and eat, Storm. You'll feel better then."

Storm managed to pull herself off the couch and walk over to the table. He put her plate in front of her and a knife and fork.

"Thanks," she said.

"No need to be so enthusiastic about it," he said sarcastically.

They ate in silence, then Storm took a shower while Fries cleared the dishes. When she was out, she said good night and turned in early. Fries couldn't help but feel that he was being avoided, and the feeling made him very uneasy and upset. He showered and then pulled out the sofa bed, climbing under the warm covers. The flat was particularly cold as London was experiencing a cold spell, but it made snuggling under the covers even more cozy. Now, if only he had someone to cuddle....

Storm didn't come out of her room that morning. Fries became a bit worried, and poked his head in to see if she was okay. She looked to be sleeping peacefully, so he decided he would go out and practice for a few hours. He couldn't afford to get rusty with his playing.

Once she heard the front door close, Storm got up and dressed. She had made a decision. She put on her overcoat and went out into the cold street. She trotted down to the corner where an off-license store was. The bell rang when she went in. She walked up to the man behind the counter, and asked, "Could you tell me what would make me drunk the fastest?"

The man looked at her suspiciously. "How old are you?"

Storm sighed impatiently, and showed her photo ID proving her date of birth.

"You just want to get drunk?"

"Yes."

The man went from behind the counter and pulled a bottle of vodka from the shelf. "This will get it done."

"How much?"

She paid for the bottle and then walked quickly home. She didn't have any of those little glasses, what were they called? Shot glasses. So she pulled out a small ordinary glass, set it on the table next to the bottle of vodka, and paced around the table. She dithered over whether she should do this. Fries wouldn't be home for a while. She heard this was what people did when they were really depressed. Anything would be better than the pain she was living.

She opened the bottle, and poured some into the glass. Taking a deep breath, she lifted it to her lips, and took a big gulp, swallowing quickly. In a flash she stood up, spilling the vodka and knocking her chair backwards. She coughed and gagged. "Bloody f***ing hellfire!!!" she swore.

The man at the store must have given her the foulest of alcohols to make her change her mind about getting drunk. Oh, she would get him, she fumed, but wouldn't go back for something different. If she was going to get drunk, it might as well be an unpleasant experience from the start so she wouldn't do it again.

When she had caught her breath and had wiped the spilled vodka from the table and floor, she poured some more, and took a smaller gulp. She squinted as she swallowed and felt the burning, vile liquid go down her throat. She took another sip and another. She paused, and decided to have something else to wash it down with. There was nothing but a Lilt in the fridge, so she grabbed it, opened it a little shakily, and took a slow sip, savoring its sweet flavour. Then she turned back to the vodka, grimaced, but determined to do this, she took another few swallows. She could feel herself beginning to be affected. The vodka didn't taste as bad now. Everything was a little fuzzy, a little hazy. She calmed down a little, and took another swallow.

Little by little, she became drunk. Cares slipped away, stupid things were really funny, and she continued to drink the liquid. Then suddenly, she became very tired, and decided to lie down on the floor for a little nap.

Continued In Next Section