I seem to be in a romantic mood. Eh…I wish my bunnies would quit hitting me with these; it's really hard to write romance, in my opinion. But at least I'm familiar with this couple. Sort of.

Post-series, companion fic to "To Get To The Other Side," and after this please go read (my really sad OMG angst filled tragmance) "Let The Tears Roll Down." It needs reviews, as does this one :D

She stares at him with a look that would make any deer caught in the headlights proud.

She's only been in Domino since yesterday day, really; the day before that she had flown in on a late flight. She was awake long enough to get to her hotel room before she crashed on the bed and slept. She forgot to take her makeup off though, and that royally sucked when she found out that those mascara stains wouldn't come out and that new blouse she bought was ruined. Lucky thing that the mascara came out of her hair though—the last thing her long blonde hair needs is a black splotch in the middle of it.

She's noticed a few familiar faces while she was here, though she steers clear of them; things between her and those people have seemed to remain at an awkward stage, and frankly she isn't ready to talk to them yet. It doesn't help that her wardrobe has remained, for the most part, the same—if someone does recognize her it's all too easy (as soon as she is able she's going clothes shopping), but Vivian only packed her those clothes and she's ticked off at the Chinese woman.

In fact, the only reason she's here at all is because Vivian—stupid meddler that she is—practically blackmailed into going and she knows ignoring the other woman isn't an option. She's already plotting revenge.

Just yesterday she bumped into one of her former coworkers, much to her surprise; of all places and of all people, he certainly was the last one she expected to see. Boy was that encounter awkward—the two of them had not quite gotten along when they had worked together, since she constantly insulted him and he viewed her as an irritant and had taken her soul later on. Such endearing memories, right?

She does have to admit, though, that he isn't as openly disapproving of her as he was initially. In fact, he seems to have mellowed out since they parted ways and has moved on from his former job. She can tell that he's doing well because while he was talking to her he was waiting for his date (he claims she's a new employee and she needs to get settled in, but she didn't fall off the applecart yesterday. She knows perfectly well that isn't the case). That's definitely a sign that the burly man has moved on, she thinks to herself with a grin.

She has no intention of talking to anyone else unless it's him; it was by accident that she and her former coworker met at all, and she is determined not to make the same mistake again. She is not ready to face those people, and she will not be for some time—these things don't go away at the drop of a hat, you know, and she did try to take her souls. Awkward? You certainly better believe it.

She has a plan in mind. She is going to stay here for about a week, slowly working up the courage to go see him only. She'll stop by long enough to apologize before she will pull a vanishing act once again. He won't want her around—no, she isn't angsting and she isn't being an insecure person. She accepts it as fact and already has prepared herself mentally for that moment when he rejects her.

But it's the second day she's been back in town and here is the very person she was trying to avoid until the week's end, running haphazardly through traffic and barely avoiding getting run over. He has not once called her name, mostly because his focus is split between her and the vehicles speeding through the intersection, but she can tell he's thinking it.

So much for her carefully laid plans. He always did have that really annoying, really unpredictable streak in him.

She also has this rehearsed speech that she planned on using when she finally meets up with him again; she's been practicing it for the past six months since they had last met, tweaking it here and there and pouring all her effort into it when she isn't dueling. It drove Vivian nuts, and that's what got her sent back to Domino in the first place.

Yet as he finally makes to the curb amid the loud and angry sounding car horns that are going off around them, gasping out her name in between breaths, she's slightly annoyed to discover that her carefully planned speech has flown completely out of her mind and her thoughts go blank. Ladies and gentleman, Elvis has left the building.

She should be running, she tells herself as she mutely watches him trying to catch his breath. She should run for it and wait until the weekend like she planned it, she tells herself with less conviction when his eyes meet hers.

When she had taken his soul six months ago, she had thought he would regard her with a forced cheerfulness and that so much awkwardness would ensue that they wouldn't be able to stick together long. It was either that or he would outright hate her and there would be no redemption for her at all—though she doubts it. He always has been the forgiving type, but to what extent he forgives her has yet to be seen.

It seems that neither scenario have happened yet. He hasn't changed at all, she realizes, and some of the tension eases from her shoulders as she stares at him. His golden-blonde hair is still styled the same way it was when she last saw him, and his eyes are still those mischievous brown orbs that can change moods in a minute. They still look at her with that mixture of delight and cheerfulness, but there's a new look there that she doesn't recognize and it makes her hesitate at first.

She takes an involuntary step backwards when his voice, somewhat strained because he said it in mid-gasp, says, "Don't…go. Hold on…I just got here…lemme catch my breath."

She obeys that order, mostly because her body suddenly decides to revolt and she can't move even if a two ton fiery meteor was hurtling straight toward her. She can only watch with a certain wariness (mingling with a small hope) as he straightens up and looks at her fully.

She isn't able to describe the look that they share then. She's fairly certain that even the most artistic author in the world, nor the wisest philosopher, is able to explain the silent conversation that goes on between the two of them.

But she does know that when their eyes meet she can see just how much he's grown, how mature he's gotten, how worried he's been about her…her breath comes in sharply at that last thought, because now she's connected the dots and realized what that earlier look was. Now she knows why he risked life and limb to get over here.

She watches him for a moment longer before he clears his throat and looks back at her; she can tell that he's trying to think of some profound thing to say to her that can best express his emotions, but seconds later she can almost hear the exasperated screw it I give up before he grins sheepishly at her.

"Hey," he says simply. "Welcome back."

She doesn't know what it is about those words, but they weren't what she was expecting and she can hear the unspoken forgiveness in those words. He still is smiling at her, his eyes softening as she looks at him, and it makes her eyes swim and her vision blurs; she looks away then, her pride getting the better of her because she doesn't want to cry in front of him.

Even after everything she's done to him, he still wants her.

She isn't sure when he stepped closer to her, but she is suddenly aware that he's got her by the hand with a gentle but firm grip—he's not about to let her run off, she thinks wryly as she willingly lets him drag her down the sidewalk. He mentions something about missing breakfast with a grin, and would she like to go to this nearby café'? They have wicked good pancakes.

She smirks then, because she recognizes the ill-disguised attempt at asking her on a date and she says as much. The blonde teenager flushes, starting to sputter indignantly and he gestures wildly in an attempt to distract her from the question. But she still reads between the lines and realizes that yes, he is asking her out, but she isn't making this easy on him in the slightest and he's having trouble phrasing the question. He never was good at expressing those kind of emotions whenever it came down to it.

It's at that moment that Mai realizes how much she's missed this idiot.