williammainnolden: Haha, thanks! And yes, the plot is certainly thickening. ::pours in some more intrigue::

Zapharina: Hello again, and thanks for your PM! Don't worry, Misto will be showing up – er, soon. Yes, that's it, soon. And I am very flattered by your praise – I'm glad other people seem to like AU! I saw in passing that you write AU Cats fic too – I haven't had time to read your stuff yet, but rest assured I will pop by sometime and leave you some reviews as good as the ones you've left me!

balamba: Haha, that's right Bomba! Look out! And you do suppose right, btw. Thanks so much for reading!!

Crawler: Three cheers for Admetus! Yeah, I like him a lot too, and since he got left out of the video – I think he's the ONLY one not credited in some way – I totally needed to get him in there. Thanks for reading!

BuckyBucky Black 13: Well, I guess my reasoning was that it would be hard for the actual cats to run a homeless shelter without someone noticing, lol! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Rayen: Wow, that would be awesome! I'm actually just pulling stuff about the homeless shelter off the top of my head, because I'm way too lazy to do research…but if I have any questions, I'd love to ask you! Thanks!!! (And don't worry, you're perfectly understandable. XD Are you from Chile?? That's kind of awesome!)

Sarah Butler: Thanks so much!!! I hope you keep reading!!

DISCLAIMER: Do I have to say it again? Fine – I am not, nor ever will be Andrew Lloyd Webber. Or T.S. Eliot, for that matter.

The Junkyard

Chapter 3: High Society

It took me a long time – to say the least – to haul myself out of bed the next morning. Luckily for both Rina and I, neither of us had classes on Tuesdays or we would have been seriously screwed. So it was about ten o'clock before I was able to stagger down to the bathroom further down the dorm hall, yawning and stretching the whole way. When I got back Rina was still asleep, snoring faintly and delicately in the back of her throat.

I was just making us both some low-quality coffee (brewing it over the hot plate Rina had 'borrowed' from her chemistry class under dubious circumstances) and wrinkling my nose over the odor of sweat and cigarette smoke that had clung to my clothes from the night before, when I heard her groan and sit up in her bed, the quilts rustling. "Coffee?"

"More like sludge," I called back tiredly.

"Coffee? Coffee, my darling, come to me…"

"Rina."

"All right, all right…you want to be an angel and bring me some? My legs hurt."

I frowned as I shuffled over to her bed on my knees, not bothering to stand up all the way. "You sore?"

"Dancing hurts after a while. If you had done any, you would be in as much desperate, agonizing pain as me."

"Wuss," I grinned, handing her the coffee in a chipped black mug, the one with a pair of glowing yellow cats' eyes on the side. "Who was that guy you were dancing with, anyway? I seem to remember you say Tom was – what was it? The hottest guy in the world…?"

She gave me a dirty look over the edge of the mug as she drank, her red hair frizzy and messy from sleep. "I did dance with Tom. And believe me, it was awesome," she purred, winking. I laughed while she sat up further, looking a little more alert. "But you know, it's always a crush on that dance floor. People get squished, bumped around. Suddenly I was dancing with that other guy."

"What was his name?"

She shrugged carelessly. "I dunno. I think Tom might have known him, though." I raised an eyebrow and Rina glared at me. "Come on, don't be such a prude. You know how it is."

"Uh, actually, no."

"Whatever. Anyway, he was hot enough. I saw no reason not to have a good time. That's what you need more of, Demi."

I leaned my elbows on the edge of her bed and let my head rest on my hands as I scoffed gently. "Yeah, right. I'm okay, thanks."

She suddenly smiled slyly, and I gulped. "Really," she grinned, putting her mug down precariously in her lap and leaning towards me. "I think I know the perfect way to get you to dance like that too. You just need the right partner, right?"

"Rina!"

"And I bet I know exactly what his name is, too. Does it happen to start with 'M' and end with – "

" – ichael? No," I interrupted stubbornly. "Come on, leave off it."

"All right all right," Rina finally sighed as she leaned back into a reclining position, eyeing a pile of books on the floor next to her bed with a look of disgust. "Ugh, I have to write that stupid paper for Mendel's water quality course today. Shit…"

I added in a sigh of my own as I got up and padded over to my desk, a messy wooden affair on the other side of the room which was covered with papers, books, and blunt pencils. I had two of my own papers to write before the end of the week, and had barely started preliminary research for either of them – but as I tried to make notes on a piece of paper, glancing back and forth between the page and the flickering screen of my ancient laptop, I found my mind was continually wandering.

In my defense, I wasn't only thinking about Michael. I was thinking of the children as well, of those little darlings scrambling around in that huge decrepit building. Of Jennifer, cheerfully sacrificing herself for them. Of Bruce – I wondered whether he was still there or if he had recovered enough to go back onto the streets. Even Tom garnered a few thoughts – I thought he was a bit of a jerk, but I wouldn't deny his beauty. And if he had given his time to procuring donations for the shelter, surely that meant there was some good in him.

The day progressed as most did when one is in college and bored – the morning spent muttering over books and cursing over typos, lunch being microwaved Ramen and a coke from the vending machines down the hall, and most of the afternoon spent procrastinating (with healthy doses of 'Ok. I'm going to do it now. Er, now. Yes, that's what I said, now'). It was only when my cellphone rang at about five o'clock that I was able to rouse myself out of my I've-finally-given-up-any-pretense-of-working stupor.

I rolled off of my bed from where I had been staring at the ceiling and twirling my hair between my fingers – much to the amusement of Rina, of course – and onto the floor, pawing through my discarded jackets and shirts until I found the cellphone, which was vibrating so violently it was dragging my coat across the room. Growling with impatience, I picked up and not so much spoke as yelled, "Hello?"

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, and then a hesitant voice said, "Demeter? Is that you?"

I know my knees gave out and I fell in a shocked heap to the floor – I'm not sure whether my jaw dropped or not, but under the circumstances I wouldn't be surprised. "M-Michael! H-hi…er, sorry about that…"

Rina was instantly in my face, her eyes boggling. The cup of soda she had been holding sloshed over her hand and dripped onto the carpet. "Is it really him?" she hissed.

I waved her off as best as I could as Michael spoke again, a laugh in his voice. "No problem – I suppose I called at a bad time. And what I want to ask is probably going to seem quite rude…"

"Ah – uh, no, it's not a bad time. Go ahead."

"Well, I was just calling to ask – uh, that is – " Was it just me, or did he sound as nervous as I felt? "We at the shelter are being sponsored to have a class-A fundraiser event by one of our closer donors. There's going to be a reception of sorts at Top of the Hub tonight – you know, the restaurant at the top of the Prudential building?"

"Uh – yes, I've heard of it. I think."

"Yeah, well – I thought – er, that is, all of us here thought – that since you guys are a part of the team now you might want to come. It'll be fancy, and I'm really sorry it's such short notice, but…"

I seem to have had an identity crisis (complete with doubt, fear, feelings of inadequacy, the whole kit and caboodle) within the course of about three seconds. Thankfully some inner strength I didn't know I had ended up on top, and I found myself saying. "That sounds wonderful! I'd love to come. And I'm sure – " here I looked to Rina, who was grinning from ear to ear " – that Rina would love to come too."

"What?" she whispered fiercely, her pretty face suddenly screwed up in puzzlement.

"Great!" Michael said, sounding much happier while I giggled silently at Rina, who was now mouthing some pretty foul words. "The reception starts at seven tonight. Just give your names when you come in – I'll make sure you're both on the list."

"Sounds good. Thank you so much – "

"Don't mention it. See you soon!"

"Bye," I replied softly. The phone clicked and then whirred as Michael hung up.

"What. Is. Going. On!" Rina growled.

I laughed, feeling quite warm and calm as I slipped my phone onto my bedside table. "Relax, it's a good thing. Michael's invited us to a fundraiser tonight. Some fancy thing at Top of the Hub."

"Whoa, what? That restaurant at the top of the Prudential? The skyscraper?"

"Yup." I leaned back against my bed, letting a small smile creep onto my face.

"When is it?"

"Seven."

"WHAT?" In a flash, Rina was up and rushing about the room, rummaging in various drawers and practically tearing our tiny shared closet to pieces. "That's in two hours and I haven't even showered yet today! Oh my god! Oh my god!"

A little less than two hours later, we trotted into the elevator at the Prudential building and pressed the top button. Rina, as usual, had gone for wearing red to match her hair and pale skin, and so was wearing a strapless dress with quite impossibly high heels. Myself, I had dragged out one of the only fancy dresses I owned – a black halter dress with muted gold threads woven through it – and a pair of heels which despite only being an inch and a half high were really killing my feet (I was more used to comfortable, practical shoes).

When we finally arrived at the top, we stepped out into a vision. I gasped as the outer walls of the restaurant – a darkly-colored, mahogany affair – showed themselves to be just vast panes of glass, giving us an unobstructed view onto Boston in almost every direction. It was dark enough that large sections of the city were sparkling with lights – the Hancock skyscraper, several blocks from the Prudential and just a little bit taller, had a pattern of windows that was lit up in the shape of a large sign saying "GO SOX." In the distance, I could make out the shape and lights of planes taking off from Logan airport, further out towards the ocean.

I finally blinked my way out of my dreamlike state to find that Rina and I were standing at the edge of quite a large crowd of people – soft, jazzy music was playing, several tables were set up as a buffet next to a large square bar, and many overlapping voices were filling the restaurant with sound.

As we gave our coats to an employee standing next to the elevator, a figure detached itself from the crowd in the dim light and walked quickly over to us in the dim light. It proved to be Michael, and I know I blushed. He was wearing a black suit and tie – the tie was loose about his collar – over a white shirt, and the light caught a thin silver bracelet he was wearing on his right wrist. "Hey!" he called as he approached. "I'm so glad you could come!"

"Thank you so much for inviting us," I managed to stammer. "This is beautiful…"

Michael saw me glancing out the windows again, starry-eyed, and smiled. "Yes, it certainly is. I have to admit, BJ always does choose the best locations for these things."

"BJ?" Rina questioned, trying to sound interested while simultaneously craning her head over the crowd – no doubt in search of Tom Jenkins.

"Bob Jones," Michael replied with a smile, his eyes twinkling as he observed Rina's antics. "He's our host tonight, and a huge benefactor of the Junkyard."

"Ah! Are these the young ladies we have been expecting, then?" a booming voice suddenly called over the mélange of people. The crowd parted not unlike the Red Sea at the sound, and my eyes popped out a little bit.

Waddling towards us was an immensely large man: he wasn't all that tall, but his girth made up for any deficiency in that area, and more. His cheerful, blubbery face popped out from his black suit and white shirt, which seemed to be straining to stay closed over his stomach and chest.

"My dears, my dears! So pleased to make your acquaintance, of course, my pleasure," BJ chattered amicably as he waddled towards us. To my surprise I saw that Jennifer Dotherings (dressed in a puffy orange dress) was tripping along, giggling, on his large arm. "Have you eaten yet? Do try the shrimp, it is simply divine – as is the pork, and the boeuf bourguignon…do try it, do try it…simply divine!"

The huge man swept up to us with surprising grace for his size, lifting up first my hand, then Rina's, and kissing the air just above them. "My beautiful lady friend and I," he said gallantly, smiling at Jenny, "are honored that you are here. I hope you will enjoy yourselves – and young Michael as well! Splendid, splendid… Mr. Reginald! So good to see you…" As he spoke these words he began walking away from us towards another guest who was just arriving – and I giggled when I made out the shape of glistening white spats on BJ's feet. He was quite the eccentric!

"Jeez. Where'd you find him, Mike?" Rina asked, chuckling.

Michael grinned in response. "He's an old friend of the family, is old BJ. Practically an uncle to me and Tom. Plus he's rich, which is always helpful!"

"Are he and Jenny – ?" I asked.

"Together? Nah. BJ's very fond of her, but she's had her eye on Kevin Shanks for ages." At my questioning look, Michael went on, "He's our Director of Communications and Outreach back at the shelter. He's in Chicago right now, but I'll be sure to introduce you as soon as he gets back – "

"Michael? Won't you introduce me to your friends?" a new, female voice broke in on our conversation, and a woman glided into our little group.

She was sort of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Slim and tall, her skin was a gorgeous coppery-brown color, and her delicately draped black dress and shawl accentuated her figure. Black kohl, the same shade as her shining hair, outlined her eyes. As she spoke, she slipped one arm smoothly through Michael's and rested her cheek lightly on his shoulder. I flushed as she smiled serenely at me.

"Ah, of course – Demeter and Rina, this is Cassandra El-Bayoumi. She works for Massachusetts Social Services and is one of our biggest supporters in the state government."

"Just trying to do my part," Cassandra murmured. "Michael dear, there's someone I want you to meet from New York who's been thinking of initiating something like the Junkyard in the Bronx...pleased to meet you, ladies…"

I narrowed my eyes as she drew Michael slowly away from us – he looked back over his shoulder with an apologetic glance at Rina and I, but then turned and began talking with Cassandra. Their heads were very close together.

Rina, being Rina, said what I felt. "Bitch."

"Rina…"

"Well, at least he likes you instead of her. I can tell."

"Yeah, right," I muttered. "I'm going to get some food."

"Aw, Demi…don't get in a snit…"

I heard no more as I shuffled my way in my heels over to the buffet table through the crowd and numbly filled up a plate with helpings of tender steak, roasted potatoes with some savor-smelling herbs, and a delicate arrangement of asparagus arranged in the shape of a flower. Fancy food, to say the least. My heart wasn't really in it, however – all I could think of was that only the prospect of working with Michael and knowing he was taken could be worse than trying to work with him when he was as gorgeous as he was.

After filling my plate, I made my way over to a table at the far end of the restaurant, and sat down next to the window. I had a beautiful view over the Charles River, which in the night was a dark stripe dividing the bright lights of Boston on one side and Cambridge on the other. Fenway Park was also visible at the limits of my vision. It was lit up like a Christmas tree – there must have been a game going on.

I looked down at my plate, smelling the delicious odors – ones far better than the crap Rina and I regularly had to eat at Tufts. But suddenly, when I picked up my fork, I found myself unable to eat.

I actually felt guilty. Here I was sitting at the top of the Prudential, in a high-class restaurant, eating food far better than I deserved, when Bruce was shivering somewhere on the streets from a cocaine high. When dozens of men and women were crowding into the Junkyard because they had no homes and very little food or money.

I put my fork down, feeling a bit sick, and laid my elbow on the table, my cheek in my hand. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn't hear Michael approaching until he was right next to me.

"Demi? Mind if I join you?"

"Ah! Oh – no, go ahead."

"What's the matter?" he said gently as he sat down next to me, laying his own full plate on the table in front of him and placing his jacket over the back of his chair. "You're not eating."

"I – well…" I blushed, glancing inadvertently at BJ's wide form as he moved gracefully about the room. I couldn't help looking out the window over the city before I turned to look at Michael again, and he seemed to understand all too well. He smiled gently and laid a comforting hand on my arm.

"Don't worry," he said warmly. "BJ's an extravagant host, but he's also a good one. Every time he holds a fundraiser he makes sure the kitchen sends any leftovers back with us to the Junkyard." He chuckled a little as he quirked an eyebrow in the broad gourmand's direction. "And with BJ, 'leftovers' means the best meal most of our homeless get all year."

I smiled gratefully as he let go of my arm and turned resolutely to his own plate, forking a particularly delicious-looking piece of pork. I dug into my own food in short order, and quickly came to the conclusion that I would never get used to eating crappy school cafeteria food again.

Soon I was feeling very full – and more than a little giddy from Michael sitting so close to me – but then I caught sight of Cassandra across the room, and my mood sank again. Now she was hanging on Tom's arm, but of course in my jealous state it seemed to me that she glanced over her shoulder at Michael far too often. Her smooth skin and classy demeanor both broadcast "ATTRACTIVE" across the room like a neon billboard, but I couldn't help thinking she was a manipulator – and didn't really care about the Junkyard at all.

I probably should have realized before then that Michael was more observant than your ordinary man. But because I hadn't, I was surprised when he turned to me, a bit of spaghetti dangling off of his fork, and said quietly, "You and Cassandra are making eyes at each other. Should I be worried?"

"I – uh…" After a moment I saw that his eyes were twinkling with mirth, and I allowed myself to smile. "Well, I actually thought it was you and her who were 'making eyes' earlier."

"Cassandra and I?" he said, his eyes widening. "Are you serious?"

"Uh, yeah. She was sort of draping herself all over you."

"I suppose she is a little – ah, 'friendly'," Michael said thoughtfully, shrugging his shoulders. "But that's just how she is. She asked me to go out to dinner with her a few times, but I thought it was best we kept our relationship professional. Besides…" here he trailed off, and – I probably imagined it, but I thought his eyes flickered towards me "…she's not really my type."

"Oh." I wasn't sure what to say. So, as usual, I settled for blushing and staring at my nearly-empty plate.

My eye was caught by a flash of ginger which had suddenly appeared across the restaurant near the entrance, and a hubbub of loud, cheerful voices floated through the air. I couldn't quite make out who it was who had arrived – but Rina evidently had, because she suddenly rushed over to the table where Michael and I were sitting and almost dragged me out of my chair through sheer force, her nails digging into my arm.

"Hide me!" she hissed in my ear.

"Ow! Rina, what on earth – "

"Demi, it's him! That guy I was dancing with last night at Jillian's! The one I – Christ – the one I made out with."

"Huh?" I looked back over at the entrance again – past Michael, who was staring curiously at both Rina and I – and saw that it was, indeed, the pale red-headed man, who was once again dressed in a very expensive outfit. Not sticking with just the Rolex, now he was also wearing a slender golden chain around his neck. Before I knew it, the man had stalked – well, more like glided – over to us, and I found myself both shielding a quivering Rina and looking for the first time into his face.

And what I saw was not exactly soothing.

He was tall, taller than Michael or Tom, and had a – well, I suppose I would have to call it a 'mane' – of auburn hair, which was artfully tousled into a messy affair which left pieces of it dangling into his fierce blue eyes. His face was lean and pale, almost elfish – but his brow seemed to have an arrogant quirk to it, and the corners of his mouth were turned up in a perpetual smirk. His limbs were long and thin, his shoulders slightly hunched, despite the fact that he was still quite young, thirty years old at the most.

All this wasn't enough to really give me a bad impression of him. No, it wasn't that – it was rather that his head was constantly moving, waving slightly back and forth on his neck. I felt uneasy watching him, as though he were some sort of serpent, trying to work a hypnotic spell. Call me crazy, but that's what I noticed. And so when he smiled down at me – and then smirked at Rina – I couldn't help feeling afraid.

"Well, well," he said, his voice a smooth, rich baritone. He placed his hands on his thin hips and leaned over me, glancing with an amused grin at Rina. "What have we here, Mikey?"

Michael stiffened beside me, and when I looked around I saw something strange – his usually so open and friendly face was blank and cold. I got the feeling that whoever this man was, in Michael's mind he wasn't worthy – wasn't allowed – to call him 'Mikey.'

"Demeter, Rina," he said quietly, standing and gesturing calmly to the man, not really looking at him, "may I introduce my oldest brother, Mac. He's a great supporter of the Junkyard – "

"Actually," Mac suddenly interrupted, pushing his hair back from his face as he spoke, "I'm a multi-millionaire. And you're damn lucky I am, Mikey, or your stupid shelter would go down the drain and you know it."

The temperature around our little table seemed to have dropped about twenty degrees. Michael glared at Mac as he stepped a little closer to me, laying a hand on the back of my chair. "For god's sake, Mac," he said quietly. "Not here, of all places!"

Mac simply smirked a little wider. He glanced at Michael coolly, then back at me and Rina – and then, to my surprise, he completely abandoned the tough guy act, shrugged, and bowed his head very politely to the two of us. "Honored to meet the two of you. I've heard you'll be working at the shelter until Christmas, is that right?"

"Yes, it is," Rina said tightly, still remaining behind me. She clutched one of my hands behind my back, and I tried to give her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

"Excellent," Mac said jovially. "I look forward to seeing you there. Perhaps," here he turned to me, and I gulped "I might be permitted to take you out to talk about the public health courses you take at Tufts, Demeter. I've always taken an interest in the affairs of the university."

I was so shocked at his proposal that in my unwary state of mind I made the worst decision of my life.

"Ah – yeah, sure. That would be great."

"Fan-tastic." Mac smiled at me, and I saw that his teeth were almost unnaturally white. "I will see the two of you – " he smirked at Rina again " – soon, I hope."

He turned to Michael, who was staring at him with a look that was certainly not one of brotherly love. Michael's knuckles were white from where he was grasping my chair. "We should get together sometime, Mikey," Mac said breezily. "Play cards or something."

"You cheat," Michael said calmly.

Mac grinned. "Of course."

And with that he was gone, slinking back across the room towards the group which contained both Cassandra and BJ. The crowd seemed to part slightly as he walked, as though no one wanted to be near him – at the time, I just thought I was imagining it because I had taken such a quick dislike to him. I found myself wondering how someone who made me feel so nervous and afraid could ever be related to Michael – or Tom, for that matter. I shivered in my chair as Rina let out a huge sigh of relief, sinking down into a seat next to me.

"Oh man," she gasped. "That was sort of the most embarrassing moment of my life."

"Huh?" Michael cut in, looking hard at Rina. "Have you and Mac met before?"

Rina looked uncomfortable, and angry with herself, and settled back further into her chair. "In a way."

All three of us sat there silently for a while – Rina blushing, Michael fuming and me just sitting there trying not to feel awkward – and wondering why on earth I had practically agreed to go on a date with someone I had never met before. Eventually, though, Michael stood silently and picked his jacket up from the back of his chair. "I think I'm going to head back to the Junkyard," he said, sounding distracted. "You guys are supposed to come tomorrow morning, right?"

"Yeah," Rina muttered.

"Great. Well, I'll see you then."

"Hey," I said abruptly, plucking up my courage. "Do you need any help tonight? I mean, at the shelter? We were supposed to come very early tomorrow morning – maybe if I stayed at the – at the Junkyard tonight, I could help in the morning…"

My voice trailed off as Michael glanced back at me, his green eyes bright with surprise. It was only then that I realized what I had proposed probably wasn't part of standard procedure.

But, to my shock, Michael smiled widely. "That sounds like a great idea, actually! We could put you on the fifth floor and then in the morning you could help me with checking out the homeless we had for the night. Does that sound okay?"

I grinned. "Yeah, it does – as long as we can stop by the dorm so I can get a change of clothes. I don't exactly feel like sleeping in this," I continued, gesturing expansively down at my dress. Michael chuckled.

"You'll excuse me if I bow out," Rina said dryly. "I think I'm going to stay here and drown my sorrows for a bit, and then go back to the dorm. Sleep sounds good right now."

With that decided, Michael and I both headed over to the door, saying quick goodbyes to people as we went (BJ was the epitome of graciousness, but Cassandra gave me an evil glare as she shook my hand) and then we went down to street level in the elevator silently, leaning against the dark walls as the floors flashed past. Michael paid for my T pass (I had forgotten to bring enough change) and we finally made our way up to Chinatown from the underground train stop, emerging into the cold night air. My watch said it was about 12:30.

"So, uh," I started, unable to keep my curiosity in check any longer, "what was that with you and Mac?"

Michael looked at me sharply, and then shrugged. "We don't really get on, that's all. He's hard to tolerate sometimes."

"Is that because of his money or his attitude?" I asked a bit more cheerfully.

"We've never really been that close – Mac was in college when I was still in elementary school, so I didn't see him much," Michael said thoughtfully. "Mac went to Yale, rocketed straight through business school and ended up being CEO of a stock-trading company in New York. He made his first million within a few months – and never stopped taunting the rest of the family about it, obviously. Tom went to Stanford, out near LA." He chuckled and looked at me, winking a little bit. "I think California went to his head a little bit, don't you think?"

"Ah," I grinned. "So that's what happened."

"Yeah. Sometimes I think he should have just stayed and surfed his way to fame. He wouldn't even need to get on the board, he'd just have to take his shirt off and he'd have more money than any of us could dream of!"

"Michael! He's your brother!"

"What? It's true!"

"Well yes, but…"

He just laughed and kept walking, sticking his hands into his pocket He had undone his tie so it hung loose about his open collar, and my breath caught in my throat as the slight night wind whipped it softly across his face.

We stopped by my dorm so I could get a change of clothes – I was so happy to be going back to the Junkyard that I didn't stop to think about what any of the students in the dorm would have thought if they had seen me ("Did you see Demeter? She walked off with this guy – she came back to get some clothes so she could go stay with him! He had his tie undone, dude. That's solid proof"). We then walked the rest of the way to the Junkyard in a companionable silence, walking side by side down the nearly empty sidewalk. Even Chinatown had to have some down time, and this late at night almost all the shops and restaurants were closed. Only the neon signs were left on, blinking into the dark as buses rolled quietly past us in both directions.

When we finally got to Junkyard, Michael grabbed my hand (I jumped, something I seemed to be doing with increasing frequency of late) and led me around the building to a small side door. It was much darker in the alley we had to walk down, but I felt perfectly safe as Michael pulled me gently onto the door stoop and then pulled a bunch of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door, which opened onto the main stairwell Rina and I had gone up the other day.

We both went quietly up to the fifth floor, and then Michael stayed out in the stairwell while I went in and changed into pajamas (flannel pants and a sweatshirt – Boston nights were cold in October). The whole floor was empty, so I had my pick of the beds. I chose one about a third of the way down the room from the door, and then opened it so Michael could come in.

"Okay," he said as he came in. I walked over to the bed and sat down on it, sliding my legs under the covers. "I'll come and wake you up at about 5:30 – the days start early around here. Is that all right?"

"Yes."

"All right." He smiled gently. "Good night."

"Michael," I said hesitantly, as he began to walk away. I sat up a little in the bed as he turned back, his face partly in shadow from the dim light bulb above. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he said instantly, sitting down at the end of the bed and regarding me curiously. "What's up?"

"I was – I was just wondering why you do this. I mean, work here."

There was a long silence. Michael seemed to be thinking deeply, looking down at the floor. Finally he took a breath and replied, "I'm afraid it's – personal."

"Oh – I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to pry – "

"No, that's not it," he said kindly. He reached out and grabbed my hand again from where it was lying on the covers, smiling sadly. "It's not that I don't want to tell you. I trust you, I know you wouldn't…It's just – not just my problem. My dad, and Tom…"

"I see," I whispered.

We remained sitting there together for a few minutes. He didn't let go of my hand. Eventually, though, he sighed and stood, and my fingers slipped quietly out of his. "Sleep well, Demi," he murmured, giving me a tired smile.

"Good night," I called as his footsteps padded away down the room. After a moment the light clicked off and I was left in darkness. Despite how tired I was, it took me a long time to get to sleep.

As for characters in this chappie…er, you can figure it out, right? Oh, and a hint – more reviews makes me write faster. Just, y'know, a little hint. :D P.S. I have been to Top of the Hub – once. It's real! I highly recommend it if you're ever in Boston and want to blow some money! Especially the desserts…mmm…