A/N: Done! Finally! Hope you are still reading. Please please please review!!

John was hoping that the flight home would feel like flying into the future. He had finally put a lid on the past and was ready to move on. Returning to his city, his bar and his flat, he felt almost like he was running away instead of returning home. He hated that even though he chalked it up to lack of sleep and close proximity, two weeks later he still felt off kilter.

Tonight, though, he was starting to feel better. Starting to feel like the cynical, sarcastic kick-ass bartender he was. The place was packed wall to wall and drinks were being circulated at assembly-line speed. His favourite waitress, Jenna, who he had hired six years earlier, was working her magic and her smart-ass brother, Lucas, was manning the bar with him.

Lucas was full of "what can I get you, beautifuls" and "my man! Good to see yous". However much John hated to admit it, not only was Lucas one of the best bartenders in the city, but one of his best friends. When they were manning the bar, there were always bottles being tossed to each other and manly banter being shouted through the noise of the bar.

"Hey, Bender!" Lucas yelled, straining to be heard over the shouts of laughter and clinking glasses the eleven o'clock crowd always brought. " Toss over the Bombay! This fine young lady is requesting a martini. Dirty." When John looked at the subject in question, an over bleached, over tanned twenty-something was drooling over his partner in crime, and Lucas was eating it up.

As John threw the bottle toward him he shouted, "Heads up!" John looked over and winked at a brunette who was giving him her best "come hither" look. "It's getting hard to toss you bottles with your head getting so big!"

"Yeah, well, it's about time you got yours out of your ass!" Yelled Lucas, tossing John a bottle of Triple Sec. "Ever since you got back from Sherman, you've been more of a prick than usual."

"Shermer!" John corrected, shaking up a perfectly balanced cosmopolitan.

"What?!" Lucas yelled, popping a cherry into a sling.

"Shermer." John repeated. "I was in Shermer. And fuck off." John stated dangerously, and promptly closed the discussion.

After a minute or so of silence between the two, Lucas yelled "Bender! I need a bottle of wine from the back! Chardonnay for the knock-out!"

John realized he was holding his breath only when he looked over and saw a model-thin brunette with a bob sitting primly on one of his mahogany stools. He released the breath he was holding and went out back to grab a bottle. "Get a hold of yourself, Bender." He muttered while searching through his house whites. Selecting the bottle he tossed it to Lucas and excused himself to go on his break. He climbed the three flights of stairs to the roof of the building. He had built a private rooftop patio a couple of years back and used it frequently.

The night had cooled significantly. The chill felt like a cool shower on his glistening skin. No matter how cool it was outside, inside his bar was always too packed with patrons to benefit. The moon shone brightly as it bounced off his patio and small gazebo. John opened a small door in the gazebo and pulled out a bottle of Jack and a tumbler. As he poured himself a generous finger of the honey coloured liquid, John thought the air had a certain lightness about it that shimmered with anticipation. "Jesus, Bender." He thought. "Pull it together." He downed the burning liquid in one shot and returned back to the bar.

After pouring what John thought was his fiftieth vodka cranberry, it was finally time to start closing up. The bar was starting to empty out on its own, but fifteen minutes after last call people really started filing out. By the time two thirty rolled around it was just John, Lucas and a couple of stragglers.

While Lucas was wiping down the bar John turned to organize the bottles on the mirrored bar behind. When he heard the door being pushed over he instinctively called out "We're closed."

He stiffened at the sounds of her voice. Warm liquid honey washing over him. "Too bad. I guess I can come back tomorrow."

He turned around to see Claire's back starting to walk away. He knew she was teasing him. He knew she wouldn't actually leave, but he couldn't take the risk. "Good to see you, Red." She turned and the breath caught in his throat. She stood there, in all of her glory, in a black dress that just skimmed her knees. The contrast of black on white on red was just about all her could take. "Can I pour you a drink?"

"Mmm." She responded in the affirmative. She was distracted by his bar. His bar. He poured her a brandy and walked around the counter to her. She was running her hands seductively over his freshly polished mahogany tables and looking at the art he had carefully picked out that hung on the wall.

She took the drink without looking at him and immediately took a sip. She looked so surprisingly confident standing in front of him staring at the only one of the paintings that he had painted and had the guts to mount. "I like this." She said, as if moderately surprised. "In fact, this whole place is beautiful." She said, taking another sip of her drink not taking her eyes off the painting.

"Thanks, Duchess." He said, trying bury the pride he felt swelling in his middle. He shouldn't have cared. But he did. "You come here to make sure I'm doing okay?"

"Actually," She started, finally turning around as if the spell she was under was broken. "I came here to call you a coward." As she drained her drink he heard Lucas whistle lowly at the bar, obviously enjoying the show. John took a breath to start speaking, start defending himself or apologize or something to break the cold chill in her voice. He was interrupted before he could even begin. "You knew I lived here. You knew. You know how I found out? Allison, in her emotional pregnancy state, decided it was my right to know. So when I called her asking for your address she was honest. And I was livid. At first. Then I started thinking. And you know what I was thinking, John?" She asked, when he opened his mouth the respond she cut him off again. "I was thinking, if he doesn't want to see me, which he obviously does not, that's his decision. And it stings, of course, but I will not be the girl who comes begging." He could see she was beginning to flush from the top of her chest rising over her face, and he wondered if any woman could be more beautiful. Or infuriating. "So, you might ask, what the hell am I doing here? Believe me, I'm asking the same thing." She said softly, taking a sudden interest in her shoe's contrast to the cherry stained hard wood. "I went on a date tonight." She stated.

"Claire …" John said, but didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"Don't call me that. You never call me that." She said softly, suddenly looking his straight in eye and scaring the hell out of him. "I called Allison for your address because I have something for you. I was going to mail it to you in Toronto, but obviously you're not there. I thought I would drop it off on the way back from dinner."

John didn't know what to say, so he said the first thing that came to his mind, "Your date didn't walk you to the door?"

Instead of coming back with a scathing remark, instead Claire put down the glass she was holding and reached into her purse. She pulled out a small box wrapped in parcel paper and handed it to him. Their hands brushed and a jolt of electricity bolted up John's arm and went straight to his heart instantly making it beat faster.

As John started to unwrap the small package Claire spoke, "After you left I went to your old house and spoke with your mother." He stopped mid-unwrapping and stared at her incredulously. "I know you're probably pissed as hell but …"

"You went to see my mother?" he asked forcefully cutting her off. Suddenly he was well aware of his audience. John grabbed Claire's arm and stared walking quickly causing Claire to stumble behind him. "Lucas, close up when you're finished." He stated, purposely not forming the phrase in a question.

He practically dragged her up the stairs to the roof. With his hand gripping her arm he could feeling her skin instantly goosebump as the cool night air hit her. He couldn't focus on that. "Want to tell me what the hell you were thinking?"

"I was thinking that I wanted to know you. All of you. I wanted to know where you came from, no matter how ugly. Apparently I wasn't thinking or I would have realized it doesn't matter." She said, looking out on the city around them. "Look, I didn't come here to argue. I just wanted to give you what was yours, your mother gave it to me thinking I could track you down. Kind of funny, don't you think?" She half chuckled as she turned away from him and headed for the door. "Goodnight, John."

"Just wait a god damned minute!" John said, stopping her in her tracks. "Jesus, Claire, you walk in here surprising the hell out me, forgive me for not being on top of my game." He said, frustration roughening his voice. "Just, come over here and sit down a minute. It's after three, I doubt an extra minute is going to make a difference."

She turned and seemed to be pondering the idea a moment before walking over and sat on a bench the faced the city. He took a seat beside her and draped the coat he had grabbed on the way out around her shoulders. John resumed unwrapping his present and slowly opened the lid of the box. In the box, on a layer of soft velvet, lay a single diamond earring. One he had lost after a particularly brutal attack by his father. He picked up the small earring and stared at it almost speechless. The silence was broken when he said the only thing he could think of: "My ear isn't pierced anymore."

"Yeah, well, maybe you can use it as a tack or something." Claire said with a laugh. The silence between them grew into minutes with Claire wrapping the coat tighter around her and John staring at the earring in wonder.

"You have no idea what this meant to me. When you gave it to me, it was a reminder of where you were from in comparison to me. But it was you who gave it to me and made me think that maybe it could happen."

"Then I screwed everything up." She said, half laughing about it. He guessed there wasn't much else to do about it.

"Yeah, you did." He said with a smile. "But here we are, ten years later." Without looking at her, he reached over and grabbed her hand. "I'm not going to run this time." He said. He could hear the pain and fear in his voice. He guessed she could, too.

"Me neither." She said, not realizing the weight she lifted from his chest. He spent the past ten years of his life pushing her away. Whether it was actually her, or just a replacement, it was always her he was pushing.

He stood and walked toward the edge of the roof. He leaned his elbows on the wall and clasped his hands. He could feel her rise and take her place beside him. "I hate that you saw her. I hate that you went to her." Claire started to talk but he wasn't finished. "I know this sounds ridiculous, but you and her are on opposite sides of the spectrum, if that makes any sense. I don't want you to see that part of me."

"It's not a part of you anymore, John. This is you. This city, this bar, this moment. This is you now." He didn't say a thing to the words spoken by her, just reached for one of her hands and grasped it between both of his.

"Sun should be coming up soon." She said, leaning a hip against the wall facing him.

He looked up at her and couldn't stop himself. He stood quickly and framed her face. "Listen, gorgeous, I'm going to say something to you, and I want you to remember it because chances are you're not going to hear this from me again. Do you understand?" She nodded with his hands still cradling her face. "Good. Here it goes. I'm sorry, okay?" He said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I'm so fucking sorry." He slowly leaned down and kissed her lips. Lightly, at first. He meant to keep it that way, light and chaste, but damned if she didn't taste like the summer and it went straight to his head. When she sighed into his mouth he took full advantage.

When the broke apart, both were gasping for breath and shaking with anticipation. "For what it's worth," Claire said, "I'm sorry, too."

"Yeah?" John said, draping his arm around her shoulders and leading her toward the door that led to his flat, "Hey Duchess, you believe in fate?"