Parental Advisory Rating: L, AC

Break out those V-Chips, everyone!

Credits:

Created, Produced, Directed and Written:

XWPFanatic, TNovan and Tonya Muir

We look like prunes.

Of course, that’s to be expected. We were in the shower for nearly an hour. Fortunately, hotels have endless supplies of hot water, so we’re not hypothermic prunes right now.

Kels has calmed down some. Music and food seem to have helped. I found a decent jazz station on the radio and had room service bring up enough food for a small army. Emotional scenes always make me ravenous.

After Robie had his first son, while Christian and Rene slept happily in the hospital room, he and I went to a nearby Denny’s and ate three Grand Slam breakfasts. Each. God, I was so sick after that. But, at the moment, I just couldn’t get enough in me. It was like all of my energy had been spent on this huge emotion, and it had to be replenished. Kinda like now.

Kels is bundled up in the hotel robe, her feet tucked under her, and her damp hair hanging loose around her shoulders. She is an absolute vision of loveliness. If this is what it means to be in a steady relationship, I like it. Just being with her calms me. I don’t feel as if I have anything to prove to her. And, because of that, all I want is to prove myself.

Geez, I gotta call Mama and talk this over soon, I think.

I hate seeing the preoccupied look on Kels’ features, though. And I think I know how to get rid of it.

I wander over to my suitcase and unzip it. There, where I had hidden it yesterday, is the robin’s egg blue of a Tiffany bag. We may be on a story, we may be in NYC, we may be facing anthrax exposure, but, dammit, we’re gonna celebrate our first Christmas together properly.

Hiding it behind my back, I go over and sit beside Kels. "You okay?"

"You’d think it wouldn’t bother me anymore," she sighs. "I’ve been browbeaten by that woman for thirty-two years now, and fought back for the last fifteen, and yet, she still can make me feel like crap."

"It’s because you love her, despite it all. You’re her daughter."

"Why couldn’t I have your mother?"

I smile and caress her cheek. "You can share mine, how’s that? And I’ll share yours. That’ll keep it from being quite so bad on you. How’s that for fair?"

She kisses my wrist. "I think you’re getting the short end of the stick. But, thank you."

"Nah, you can’t thank me until you open this up." Given the opening, I present the bag with a flourish. "Merry Christmas, Kels."

She blinks and stares at the bag in her hands for a long moment. I’m almost afraid she’s going to start crying again. Instead, she jumps out of her chair and hurries over to her suitcase.

I really hope to hell she’s not leaving.

My fears are allayed when she turns around with a brightly wrapped box and hands it to me. "Merry Christmas, Harper."

I take the box happily, glad she isn’t bolting, and glad she thought of me. This could be the best wrapped piece of gum and it wouldn’t matter. As long as she gave me something, it’s perfect.

"You first," I urge.

She, for once, doesn’t argue. She removes a flat, square, black, velvet box from the bag and looks at me expectantly. "This isn’t …?" her voice trails off. She knows it’s not a ring, based on box size. I assume she’s protesting the cost. Doesn’t matter. I have more money than I can spend. And I like spending it on her.

She opens the lid and gasps, her hand goes to her throat, where the enclosed necklace will soon lay against her skin. "It’s gorgeous, Harper. Thank you."

"You like?"

She nods and lifts it out of the box. It’s a sprouting diamond necklace, made of platinum, with two carat of total diamond weight. "Will you?" she asks.

"Be glad to." I step behind her and clasp the necklace around her throat, letting it fall gently against her skin. Leaning forward, I can’t help but kiss the base of her neck.

I step back around and smile at the sight. "God, you’re beautiful."

"Open yours," she replies, blushing.

I obey her, ripping open the package, not caring about saving the wrapping paper. I have never understood that weird custom either. I’ve yet to see someone reuse the paper. So, why the hell go to all that work? What I find inside is a Rolex.

I’ve always loved these timepieces. I know instantly the model – it’s a Rolex President – with a platinum case and baguette diamond markers for the hours.

We have a theme here: platinum and diamonds.

Hopefully that means we’ll last until our diamond anniversary. I could handle sixty years with this woman.

* * *

"Je suis desoleé, Mama!" I hear her protest when I return to our room.

Oooh, somebody’s in trouble and is having to apologize. I laugh at her as I close the door. She tosses her hands in the air exactly the same way her mother did in New Orleans.

"We’re working!" She pauses and listens, holding the receiver away from her ear. "I know, I know. But you know how it is." From the grimace Harper makes, I assume Mama doesn’t know how it is. "Yes, Mama, family comes first, second and last. I’m sorry. I was wrong. Je me suis bien trompeé." She hangs her head. "You know I love you, Mama."

I fall on the bed and try to muffle my laughter against the pillow. I’ve never seen such a hangdog expression on Harper’s face.

Harper reaches over and shakes me, using the waistband of my jeans to toss me around. I peek out to find her sticking her tongue out at me.

"Oui, Mama, Kels is here with me. You want to talk to her?"

I shake my head, she nods hers. Oh, I’m gonna hurt her.

"Attend, maman." She shoulders the receiver. "Okay, you smart ass, get over here and take your medicine too. I already had mine."

I push myself up on my elbows and take the phone from her. Harper, relieved to be off the firing line, leans back against the headboard, and stretches out her legs on the bed. Not being stupid, I crawl over and rest my head on her thigh. Immediately her hand is in my hair, stroking it. This is nice.

"Hi, Mama. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you, douce fille. How is my daughter treating you this Christmas day?"

"Very well, Mama. You should see the necklace she gave me. Ooo la la." I feel Harper chuckle under me and she scratches the base of my neck.

"When are you and my baby coming home? It doesn’t feel like a holiday without you here. Robie is moping around without his playmate and we have a seat in the kitchen waiting for you."

I laugh at the scene described. I wish we were there. "Soon, Mama. We just need to finish up this story. Maybe we can at least stop by on our way back to Los Angeles." I roll over on my back and look up at Harper, to find her smiling and nodding enthusiastically. "We could take you and Papa and Robie and Rene out to dinner to celebrate the New Year."

"Good. We’ll expect you soon then. You kiss my baby girl for me and tell her I love her."

"Oui, Mama. Good-bye." I hand the phone back to Harper who closes it and sets it on the nightstand.

"You’re going to spoil her," she warns. "You give in once, you give in forever."

"Oh, come here, baby girl," I tease, holding open my arms. "Mama told me to give you a kiss."

I’m sure she had a different kind of kiss in mind, but I believe in improvising.

* * *

Other than a few, small Christmas trees on an occasional desk, you wouldn’t know it’s a holiday. The FBI field office is an absolutely flurry of activity when Harper and I arrive. Of course, besides our own personal nut flake, there are several hundred others that they’re looking for as well. APB’s keep coming over the wire, getting sent out to agents in the field and distributed to local law enforcement. We could very well end up with two or three stories before it’s over.

A sad commentary on my profession: while I hope to God that everything goes smoothly, and the only things Harper and I cover are the end of the year and then each other, I really wouldn’t be heartbroken to get a nice piece out of the chaos either. I can’t help but chuckle to myself, now how warped does that sound?

Hope for the best. Expect the worst. And be there to get it on film when it happens.

As I take my seat at the desk Kyle provided for us, I glance over at Harper who is once again attached to her cell phone, ranting at poor Jims about something. She is totally amazing to watch. She can get things done using the cell phone that would put Kissinger to shame.

"Jims, you’re a bright kid, regardless of what you do to your hair. You’ll find a way."

I watch her take that deep breath and hold it, before she lets it out slowly. Oh, he’s arguing with her. Dumb, Jimmy, just plain dumb, and you know it. I hope she keeps it down to a roar when she lets loose.

"Just do it!" She slams the cell shut. I think it’s her third one since she came to the station. They keep meeting an untimely demise at her hand.

I have discovered I do admire and love the way she works. She simply takes charge and gets things done. No questions, no arguments. Do it, and do it to her satisfaction, and you’ll be just fine. Do it wrong, and you will find yourself a permanent name on her list for a very long time. She has a long list and an even longer memory from what I can gather.

I’m absolutely sure that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with her.

Wow. Who’d have ever thought this day would come? I am in love with Harper Lee Kingsley. And I’m not insane. Well, at least, I don’t think so. Of course, I don’t think most insane people realize they’re bonkers, but I digress.

I came to this definite conclusion at the bottom of our shower this morning. And now all I have to do is find the guts to tell her. I think. I mean, I guess she deserves to know. It’s just I don’t want her to panic. She told me she does that if she thinks about these things too much. But, Hell’s bells, I simply need to find a way without scaring her off.

I wonder what that would be. Because I can’t imagine one. This is a woman who has spent her entire life going from woman to woman. I’ve had five lovers in my life, she had five lovers last week. Well, not last week, but probably the week before Thanksgiving that was true. The fact that she hasn’t left me already is amazing in and of itself.

To talk about being in love … I don’t know.

She growls a little, crossing her arms and staring down at me, her cue that I haven’t been paying attention. Oops, that’s bad too. Focus, Kels, you have to make sure there is a later so you can tell her.

"Sorry," I offer with a weak smile. "You were saying?"

"No, I was asking." She settles down across from me, sitting backward in her chair like Kyle did. Much sexier look on her.

Stop it, Kels! Damn!

"Yes?" I lean back, playing with a pencil, rolling it between my fingers.

"If you wanted to spread anthrax, how would you do it?"

Kyle answers, arriving on the scene, taking a seat on the corner of the desk. "It’s best spread through the air, but you two probably already know that. Just thought I’d let you know that our teams have had two sightings of the nutty professor."

"And?" I watch as she perks up immediately. She loves a hot story.

"He seems to be sightseeing. He’s been spending a lot of time at the Museum of Natural History, appropriately enough. He hasn’t made one furtive movement. Not yet, at least."

"Well, he’s got a few days." I lean forward resting my elbows on the desk tapping the pencil. "Maybe he’s trying to figure out the best way to deploy it."

"Makes sense."

She reaches out and takes my toy, laying it down next to me. I forgot she hates it when I do that. Nervous tic I picked up in college. I have a right to be nervous. I have a lot of reasons to be nervous. "Too damn bad the city is on high alert. I’d love it if you could snag him and bring him in for questioning," she tells the agent without so much as a look in my direction.

"Me too," Donovan agrees with a nod. "But, under the circumstances, until he does something to give us a reason there really isn’t anything we can do. Hell, every interview room I have here is already full." He sighs, a very frustrated sigh. "I know the NYPD is having the same problem. And, from what I hear, Rikers is already so full they’re trying to figure out what they’re gonna be doing with everyone else they arrest this week."

"Terrific. No place to put the bad little boys and girls." Harper shakes her head.

"Right."

"What about from an airplane or a blimp?" I offer, trying to get the conversation back on track with a little brainstorming, before my thoughts can deteriorate with that ‘bad little girls’ comment. I’d hate to start thinking about handcuffs and …

Argh! Stop it, Kels.

"Restricted airspace," both Harper and Kyle offer at the same time, in the same bored tone. Smart asses.

"But what about those helicopter ride places in the city? How do they get around?"

Kyle shrugs. "Can’t hurt. We’ll show his picture at those places. Have them contact us if he tries to hire them."

"Ventilation systems?"

"Covered." Kyle shrugs and picks up my pencil. "Well, ladies, since there is no rest for the wicked, or the FBI, I need to get back to work. I’ll keep you posted. If you come up with anything, let me know."

"No problem," Harper agrees. "I think it’s gonna be a long couple days."

* * *

"It annoys me, that’s all," I say, sipping from the soda glass.

She nods, swallowing, before attempting to answer. "I know, but…" Her comment is cut short by the ringing of her cell phone.

I simply take another bite of my sandwich and wait, hoping its good news. The last few days have been frustrating as hell for us. Nothing like waiting for the end of the world.

"Kingsley." It’s not Kyle, I can tell by the look on her face. "Well, of course, there would be contract issues in Los Angeles that would have to be cleared up." She grins at me and lifts her eyebrows.

Oh boy, somebody is making her a better offer.

Oh shit.

They’re gonna offer her a fabulous job here in New York and she’s gonna take it. And if I tell her how I feel then, it’s gonna sound manipulative, like I’m trying to get her to stay with me. And if I don’t, she’ll leave and not know what this meant to me.

Why is my stomach dropping? I should be happy for her. She’s damn good at what she does. She deserves all the best. She should come to New York. She should be in the number one market.

Okay, Kels, buck up. Be a professional about this. You’re happy for her. You want her to have all the best. You’ve let go before. You can do it again and you can survive it again.

Remember how much it hurt the last time?

No. Don’t think like that. That was a long time ago, you’re stronger now, used to being alone. This is Harper. She deserves it, too. Just be ready to go on without her.

I try to choke down a little more of my food and not look as sick to my stomach as I feel.

She makes a few more comments then quietly snaps the cell shut. Well, that’s a first. I guess offering her a lot of money, power and prestige make her a happy camper and kind to electronics. She gives me a great big Cheshire Cat smile.

"Well, don’t you look pleased with yourself?" I hope I sound happy for her. I am happy for her. I just hate the crushing feeling in my own chest. A Mack truck didn’t park on top of me by any chance, did it?

"I am, thanks. It’s an incredible package, Kels. A major step forward. Of course, a few details need to be tweaked, but, otherwise, it’s golden."

I reach out and pat her hand, trying to keep mine from shaking. "Congratulations."

"Hey." She keeps my hand. Obviously, I’m not doing the camouflage job I thought I was. "I never said I was taking it."

"Don’t be silly. You should. These offers don’t grow on trees."

"I know that, but…."

Interrupted again. This time by my cell. Christ. For once I’d like my world to fall apart without an interruption.

* * *

Okay, I have this terrific offer on the table. A chance of a lifetime, especially for someone my age. Senior Producer with CBS, working on their premiere news magazine. It means moving to New York. It means leaving Kels. Wonder if she’d move here with me? One of the networks has to want her here. They’d be crazy not to.

I take a drink of my coffee as she takes her call. She looks at me and gives me a ‘thumbs up’ sign. Seems like something is going well for her too. This is good. This is very good. I know she wants a spot in New York. Wonder if she’d be upset if I took one too?

Nothing says we come as a team. Nothing says we ever see each other if they do hire us both. Even if we’re at the same network. Unless it’s in her contract to work with me, I could be in Siberia for all it mattered. They’d pair her up with their more seasoned producers, give her exposure, a chance to work with their best. I’ll be producing real exciting stories like the National Spelling Bee.

We’ll be in Manhattan and never see each other again. This is the perfect city to lose someone in.

Like hell.

She’s crazy if she thinks I’m giving up so easily. We don’t necessarily have to work together, but I refuse to give up on us if we’re both living in New York.

Oh shit. Beth lives in New York. Maybe she’d rather be with Beth if she moves here. Maybe that’s why she wants to move here.

Damn.

No! I refuse to think like this. My Papa’s words, "Don’t you be scared, Harper Lee," ring in my ears. Shut up and jump.

"I’ll have my agent give you a call. You’ll be hearing from her right after the New Year." Kelsey smiles triumphantly at me. She hangs up, laying her phone down on the table. "CBS," she says softly, "just made me a hell of an offer."

Same network, thank God. "Was there ever a doubt, Little Roo? They know real talent when they see it."

"Was that a dig?" she teases. ‘Talent’ is not a nice word in our profession.

"No way, sweetheart. You deserve it. It’s about damn time."

"We should celebrate."

"Absolutely. And we will, just as soon as we wrap our story." The story that could be our last one together. God, suddenly, I’m not very hungry anymore. And I sure don’t want to celebrate.

* * *

We’re standing in the middle of Times Square, by TKTS, facing the building where the ball will drop later tonight. It’s already crazy here. The millennium extravaganza includes hourly celebrations as each time zone in the world enters the year 2000. There are seven huge television screens stretched out around us, hundreds of speakers blaring music, light towers illuminating every nook and cranny in the area, and already more people than I can tolerate in one space.

Right now, the Indian subcontinent is welcoming the New Year on the big screens. And, to mark this occasion, a twenty-two foot elephant is making its way down Broadway. It’s not a real elephant, of course, but a huge puppet, propelled by a dozen workers, and is rather interesting looking. Deafening the ears is an authentic soundtrack and cascading down from the surrounding building rooftops are red streamers. This is going to be a bitch to clean up. I hope the sanitation workers’ union negotiated triple time.

And I hate crowds. I’ve been jostled, pushed, bumped, hassled and grabbed one too many times in the short period we’ve been here. I’m carrying heavy camera equipment for our shoot, and I’m ready to kick the next person who even walks too close to me.

Kels is practicing her intro beside me, trying out different word combinations and inflections. I always enjoy hearing this. It’s interesting how a story comes together. In our industry, we can change a word or two and give a whole new meaning to what we’re covering. But, of course, as professionals, we’re unbiased. Yeah, right.

I stake out a spot that I like, and drop a couple bags of gear at my feet, marking my territory. Jims is with us, acting as my pack mule, and he’s complaining bitterly about the cold.

"We were happy in LA, Harper. Then you drug us to Texas, that wasn’t so bad. But, why did you have to bring us to New York City on the coldest day of the entire millennium?"

I roll my eyes. "I’ve had enough of the millennium crap, Olson. It’s not even until 2001. And don’t quote that Mulder line to me again." I shake my finger at him. He and I love ‘The X Files’. We both watch it for Gillian Anderson. Wow. What a knockout.

"I meant this millennium, Harper," he continues, interrupting my thoughts. "And I’m more than happy to come back here around 2001. Maybe by then global warming will have caught up with us."

I take off my wool scarf and wrap it around his neck. "There. Be quiet." I then pull a five dollar bill out of my wallet and thrust it into his hands. "Go over there and get us some coffee and Kels some tea." I point to one of the numerous coffee and roll vendors dotting the sidewalks.

"Can I pour it on my hands?"

"Get going!" I growl playfully and give him a shove. He trots across the street to stand in line. With any luck, he’ll be back with it around midnight.

"I’m ready," Kels announces, finally pleased with her narration.

"Great. Jims went to get us something to drink. I sure hope to hell that they catch the lesser professor soon. I sure don’t want to be here otherwise. I may be insane, but I ain’t stupid."

She smiles at me, warming me better than the coffee will. "No, you’re not. If he’s not caught, I don’t see a need to stand here and expose ourselves just to get the exclusive."

"No, chér, but I can think of other places we can expose ourselves."

"Stop it!" She slaps my arm without any sting. "Now," she begins scanning the surrounding buildings, "if you wanted to make a bunch of anthrax spores airborne, where would you do it?"

I shrug. "I might put them in the ball, so that when it dropped they’d be released."

"FBI has someone stationed up there. Nothing is in it right now and nothing will get it," Kels repeats SA Donovan’s earlier comments to us.

"Lots of rooftops around."

"NYPD and FBI are on all of them, as well as the staging crew for this event. The whole Osama bin Laden organization has them worried. They figure he’s targeting three locales – Times Square, the National Monuments in DC, and the Space Needle in Seattle."

"Damn. Couldn’t it be a Starbucks? I mean, what’s one less of them in the grand scheme of things."

"Hey, I’m not a coffee drinker so it wouldn’t bother me."

We share an easy laugh, enjoying these last few moments of relative peace before the evening really gets crazy. "You know how Iraq supposedly has enough of this stuff to kill every man, woman and child on the planet?"

"Yeah. You trying to scare me even more?"

"No, just thinking. How would Saddam deploy the shit?"

Kels shrugs, the answer obvious. "He supposedly builds it into the payload of the missiles. Some of the spores get burned up by the explosion, but enough are left to wipe out plenty."

"The rockets’ red glare," I confirm.

"Fireworks," we say together.

"Same idea," I continue. "Launch it up, and let people ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ while you poison their ass. The fireworks are sent up over the Hudson River, not four avenues from here. Just a little breeze and you’ve got two million infected."

I’m not finished speaking when Kels is on her cell phone and speaking with SA Donovan about our hunch. This is gonna make a great Movie of the Week one day. Wonder who’s gonna star as me?

* * *

"You be careful," she says to me for at least the fourth time while I check my gear.

"I will, Kels, you know that. I have a lot going right for me nowadays."

"You keep telling yourself that, Tabloid. You’ve already got one great offer on the table and if you play your cards right, you might get another one tonight." She leers at me. Damn, that’s cute.

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah." She hands me a spare battery. When I grab onto it, she tugs it, and me, closer and whispers, "If you come back in the same condition you leave in, think: perfume, necklace, and a smile."

"And that would be?"

"What I wear to bed tonight."

Oh, I’m coming back in the same damn condition I’m leaving in. Hell, I might not leave with that kind of offer. But, I suppose I need to go save New York City. Ta-da-da-da! Super Harper to the rescue! All I need are tights and a cape – not! Jesus. What a weird world we live in.

Looking up into mist green eyes, I realize there’s something I need to get brave about as well. Just in case nut flake manages to infect us and I don’t make it back. I have to tell her. I need to make Papa proud. "Kels, I … ah …"

"Kingsley!" A male voice distracts me. I swing around to find two of NYPD’s Finest waiting for me.

"Be right there," I call to them, then turn back to Kels. "I’ll be back before you know it," I say, instead of what I should have.

Coward. You can face anthrax but you can’t say three little words.

Kelsey nods. I can see in her face she’s not happy, but she’s doing a good job of hiding it. She absolutely hates being left behind. That’s my Little Roo.

"Kingsley! Let’s go!" They yell again and I leave giving her a final smile.

* * *

Dumb, Stanton! Very fucking dumb. You should have said it, you should have told her. If she gets hurt and you haven’t told her, you’ll never forgive yourself.

But she’s not going to get hurt. She going to go get the greatest footage she’s ever shot and come back in one piece. Then she’ll take you back to the hotel and make love to you all night long.

"You ready, Kelsey?" Jimmy looks at me quizzically.

He hands me my mike so I can do some fillers while she’s gone. "Yeah. Let’s go to work, Jims."

* * *

The cruiser to the FBI field office was cramped as hell, but the ride over in the back of the sedan to meet Donovan isn’t too bad. He’s already at the staging area. The agent driving me over tells me the latest intel. Apparently, the good professor hired a boat to go to the barge that holds all the fireworks for the display tonight.

Ah, it feels so damn good to be right.

The car comes to a halt and I climb out, gathering all my gear.

"Whoa!" a voice calls.

I turn to find Kyle. "Yeah?"

"Okay, before we do this, put this on." He hands me a bullet proof vest. God, I’m glad Kels can’t see this. I slip it on over my head. "Next, we’re going to send in a NYPD SWAT team in chem suits first. Just in case he has an itchy trigger finger with the anthrax. When we get the all clear, we go in and you can go with us. Got it?"

"Yeah." Not the way I would have chosen, but I guess I have to play by his rules tonight.

"Let’s go ahead and get on the boat."

I shoulder the camera and start shooting, you never know what you’ll get. I find a nice spot near the front of the powerboat that gives me a really good view of the barge. I get some excellent footage of the SWAT team boarding before they’re out of sight.

I feel the engine fire up and our boat starts forward slowly. This is very good stuff, very dramatic. My footage coupled with Kels’ studio work will give us one hell of a story. I can feel my new starting salary growing with each frame shot.

I hear Kyle on his radio and we have the all clear to move in. Damn, that was surprisingly fast. I can’t imagine that nut flake simply surrendered.

I hear Kyle laughing a little and I turn around to see what’s so funny.

He makes his way up to me. "Just keep shooting. You are so gonna love this."

We cross over to the barge in no time and step onto the platform. Several of the SWAT officers are talking to some civilians nearby. I zoom in and become intrigued by what they’re talking about. I wander over so the mike can pick up their conversation and Donovan follows me.

"This putz came over and tried to mess with our rig. He tried to pass himself off as a state firearms inspector, but, it’s goddamn clear he’s not from our state."

That’s an understatement, buddy.

"So then what happened?" one of the cops asks.

"So, Vinnie and me told him to get lost before we shoved one of the firing shells up his ass. I mean, we’re working on a tight schedule here to get ready for this shoot, you know? Jesus, the amount of groundwork we gotta do to make this go off, and with it being the fuckin’ millennium, everyone is expecting something really big, ya know? So, we -"

The cop interrupts. "After you told him to leave, what happened?"

"He pulled out a thermos and threatened us with it." Vinnie and the narrator exchange looks and burst into laughter. "I mean, what is he going to do with it? Scald us? Cream us to death?" More laughter and this time the cops join in.

"And then?"

The fireworks display operator gets serious. "Nobody threatens Eddie DeMarco and gets away with it." He gestures with his chin, which is not insubstantial, "The punk’s over there."

We are led over to an area near some large crates by one of the SWAT officers. They’re still wearing their chem suits which will provide dramatic footage, even though I don’t think they’re necessary anymore. Boys and their toys, I suppose.

"Ms. Kingsley, can you identify this man?" Kyle gestures to the figure at my feet.

As I pan the camera down, I find the good professor bound and gagged with duct taped. Oh, it’s gonna hurt like hell when they rip the duct tape away from that mustache.

"Yes, I can." I nod, making a positive ID.

* * *

We’re alone in an editing bay as we wrap our exclusive.

"Tired?" Harper rubs my shoulders while I put the final voiceover track to bed on our story. It’s a damn good story, one of the best we’ve ever done.

"A little."

"Want to go back to the hotel or do you want to go out into the madness? Our segment leads at eleven. We can still see the New Year in."

"Well, I think with the proper persuasion, I could go out for a bit." Actually, I’d kinda like to see the non-end of the world. And know that we were in some small way responsible.

"How does a semi-private seat for the best show of the end of the year sound?"

"Sounds pretty good."

"After that, can I get a private seat for the best show of the New Year?" she whispers, her voice low and piercing through me.

"That can also be arranged."

She leans down and gives my neck a little kiss. "You still planning on just wearing the necklace, perfume and a smile?"

"Un-huh." I smile and nod. I hear her breathing catch, feel her fingers tighten on my shoulders.

"Oh boy."

* * *

There are perks to helping the feds capture an insane cowboy bent on killing the New Year’s Eve partygoers. We are now nestled at the top of the Marriott Marquis, on the roof, overlooking Times Square. Also up here are a couple cops, a few feds and part of the staging crew for the festival.

They have confetti cannons rigged and are preparing to pelt the crowd below with almost three tons of the stuff in just a few minutes at the stroke of midnight. There are also a bunch of people getting ready to release globe shaped balloons.

All because of a fluke of a calendar. Amazing, really.

In the midst of all this madness, Kels and I have found a patch of vacant rooftop. We have a perfect view and while I should be freezing my ass off, I am quite cozy and content. I procured a big, wool blanket from one of the agents, and have wrapped it around us as we stare down at the mob below. Kels is nestled against me, her smaller frame resting tightly against mine. We’re a nice fit.

"So, how does it feel to have saved all of their lives?" I bellow into her ear in an effort to be heard. What will the noise level be like when the ball drops? Will I have any hearing left?

She runs her hands over my forearms, squeezing them through my thick jacket. "Not nearly as good as this does."

"Liar," I reply, "but nice."

"We did good, Tabloid. I can already taste the Emmy or Peabody nomination. And, God, I love scooping all of them." She gestures to the media scattered all around us – on the rooftops, on the ground, on the stage.

"It does feel good to be the best, doesn’t it? I can’t wait to tell Robie the whole story when we get there tomorrow night."

"Do you have presents for your family yet, Harper?"

I give her a mock outraged look. "My God, woman! What do you think of me? Of course, I do. I did most of my shopping on-line. They’ve had the presents since after Thanksgiving."

"Oh," she replies, looking disappointed. What’s that about?

"What’s wrong, Little Roo?"

She shrugs. "I haven’t gotten them anything yet."

Mama only wants you, but this is an easily solved problem. "New York is the shopping capital of the world, chér. I am sure we can pick them up something before we leave tomorrow."

"Good. Thanks. I didn’t want to show up empty-handed."

"Never. Besides, you have your hands full with me," I tease.

Her unhappiness dissipated, Kelsey laughs and squeezes my hands. "Ain’t that the truth."

"Ten!" the crowd below us bellows.

I look up and see the ball sliding inexorably downward. It’s quite the sight to behold. It’s made of Waterford Crystal and has over six hundred light bulbs, ninety-six strobe lights and ninety rotating mirrors in it. Nearly blinding in its intensity, it dazzles the eye.

"Nine!"

"Amazing, huh?" I shout.

"Eight!"

"What?" she replies.

"Seven!"

"Beautiful!" I try again.

"Six!"

"Sure."

She obviously didn’t hear me.

"Five!"

"I said, it’s beautiful!"

"Four!"

"It is, yes."

"Three!"

"Gorgeous," she confirms. She heard me this time.

"Two!"

Ah, what the hell? Nothing ventured, nothing gained. "I love you!"

"One!"

"What?"

This just isn’t our day. "Happy New Year, Kels!"

This she hears. Go figure. "Happy New Year, Harper!"

And I kiss her.

What a nice way to start the millennium.

<fade out>

<fade in>

Robie squints and thrusts his hands in his jeans. "I guess I’m failing to see the problem. New York City is a lot better place to live than LaLa Land."

"Nothing says we’re doing this together. We both received independent offers. I may take it, but she might not. We might both take it, and never see each other in NYC."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He grabs my arm and drags me to a stop.

"Just that."

<cut to>

"No. I’m just not sure what you mean by details." Actually, I’m afraid I know all too well what they mean. The heat from my face certainly confirms my fear.

"Details," Elaine says, lifting her brows at me, as if merely repeating the word clarifies things. "You know."

Ah, what the hell? This doesn’t appear to freak them out, I guess I shouldn’t let it freak me out. "Oh, you mean like what does she wear to bed?"

"That’s a start." Katherine laughs, pouring a cup of coffee. "We’ll get to juicier details soon enough."

<fade out>

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