Title: Gone
Pairing: D/J
Summary: A drunken night changes Drake and Josh's relationship forever.
Disclaimer: This is an unauthorized work of fiction. Drake & Josh is owned by Nickelodeon.

Chapter 17: Fin

Some kind of internal warning wakes me abruptly up from my deep sleep. I grope one arm around in the bed for Josh. Where'd he go? I sit up and wrap the blanket around my shoulders. The smell of lavender eddies from the bathroom, but I can see from where I sit that he isn't in the shower. I get up and walk across the small room; his cellphone and an old Polaroid picture of his parents are left on the table, nothing else of his remains. I feel a tremor in my chest like a tiny earthquake ripping through my heart. Oh no.

I run. I run out of the room, along the hallway and all those closed doors, passing an odd woman who steps aside, shocked. I run down the empty staircase, my footsteps echoing in the empty well. I tear open the exit door and stumble a little on the blanket as I run along the sidewalk in a random direction. It is very early, some stars are still in the sky. A faint morning light is thin, cold and chilly against my skin. The street is empty and lonely with the people all gone, with the only the reminders of them - crumpled fliers, gum wrappers, lying in the gutters.

I stop running when I see the only two figures on the block. One is Josh bent over talking to a hobo. His hair is still wet from the shower, a tumult of dark curls, and his backpack is draped across one shoulder. I stop and stand there without understanding. My face I know is showing my perplexity, with my eyes fixing themselves beseechingly on him, as if praying to him to make it untrue: he didn't do this, he isn't leaving.

He turns and sees me, then straightens. The hazy morning light makes his great eyes, with their elaborate lashes, appear sea-blue green. His gaze moves over me, eyes to shoulders to legs. I must look insane--barefoot and wrapped loosely in a blanket; I can't even remember if I put back on my boxers last night. For a moment his expression is the one you see on people when they can't find the words they need. The hobo starts laughing, an odd cackling kind of laugh, then Josh finally just smiles at me, a bright irresistible smile. "I found an open bakery," he says holding up a brown paper bag in one hand. "I got cinnamon rolls for our breakfast."

To my horror, my face crumples. Tears, hot and unstoppable, begin to drip quickly down my cheeks. I watch his lovely face grow paler with the fright of my grief. I don't think he's ever seen my cry so openly before. "I thought--" I sob. "I thought you left again."

In five long strides he is in front of me and I set my damp face on his shoulder and continue to cry. He wraps his arms around me, pulling the blanket tighter. "I tried to," he admits. "I went two blocks and saw the bakery and I couldn't go any farther. All I could think of is how much you'd really really like those cinnamon rolls."

I peer out from over his shoulder. Behind him the sky is suddenly sad and beautiful, freshly stained pink where the sun now just barely peeks out and burns away the grey. "Why?" I squeak. I want to shake him. I want to punch him in the mouth for scaring me.

He pulls away a little and runs a hand over my cheeks to wipe the courses of tears away. He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, so sorry --there are, well, there are a lot of things I need to work on." I can sense the change in him, as if he received an electric shock or possibly a revelation, a vision of possibilities he hadn't dared to dream of. We look at each other and our gazes move over each other's features. I close my eyes a while, trying to recover from the lows and high of the past few minutes. When I reopen them he is still watching me.

"And I was scared you'll hate me one day," he adds.

I pull him back and hug him. His hair still smells like shampoo and I breathe in the scent. "Never. I could never hate you."

"I hope so." He sighs deeply and I can feel his body shudder. "Do you really think this is going to work?"

"Yes," I say looking back at the hobo Josh had been talking to. The ragged man is smiling and fist pumping his approval and suddenly I think Berkeley is an OK place. We would fit in here. "And there is one thing I can definitely guarantee."

"What's that?"

"We'll never, ever, be boring."

He laughs. Laughs! And I realize I hadn't heard him laugh in so long. I had always loved that sound, warm and contagious, very sexy in a silly sort of way. And now I'm laughing too. I go from crying to laughing like a madman. I'm laughing at how the strange pairing of an odd couple blossomed into this. I laugh because I know we are meant for each other as strange as that concept will be for everyone else.

He reaches down and kisses me and I hear a song begin to rise up in my heart, something joyful and happy. It composes in my mind from the thoughts of his beautiful body and warm mouth next to mine again. It is a tune made up for all the crumpled sheets, kisses and caresses, and sensual nights ahead of us. It is a bright melody of a life that will be so wonderful. So irresistible. So awesome.

THE END