Fast forward to several years later. In a fashionable suburb of San Francisco.

Years later, I did make my goal of getting a teaching degree and moved out to California. It wasn't that I was running away from anything, I just needed a change of pace. I lost touch with the guys, mostly because after the "Notorious" tour, I was still mad at Simon and Nick for not doing anything to help John's situation. I saw the video for "Do You Believe in Shame?" and got mad all over again, seeing John's skinny frame and emaciated face.

If they really cared for him, they'd do something. Anything.

I got on with my life, and matters of Duran Duran took a backseat. I focused on my career and realized my mind lay with wanting to teach others. In this particular idea of mine, I wanted to teach children because after all, children are the future and I couldn't think of anything else I'd rather do, than mold young minds.

John and the guys flitted around in my psyche for a while but I thought I had put to rest the demons. I had tried to stop John from destroying himself, hadn't I?

What I really missed though was the feeling of being wanted. I hadn't met anyone halfway amusing, through all the dates I had subjected myself to. Helena and Matt *had* gotten married, and Helena was now 3 years into being Mrs. Matthew McCarthy. Their wedding in England was breathtaking and I couldn't help feeling jealous. If only I had found my soulmate...

But I had to gather my thoughts and get back to the task at hand. Teaching impressionable young minds how to learn and how to create. I had just given my 3rd grade class a ditto to complete and all was quiet.

Except for little Johnny Hunt. He always was the little troublemaker. Well, he wasn't all bad, he just got annoying sometimes. I tried to balance this in my mind with his interest, because despite the fact that he was at times very trying to my patience, he was interested in the learning process.

Now he was just pestering me. "Miss Huang?"

"Yes John..." I said curtly, not looking up.

"Who's the man at the door?"

It was probably Johnny just trying to bother me and garner up some attention. I sighed audibly, annoyed as usual. "Johnny, what are you talking about?" I looked up from my desk just to humor him. "Johnny, did you finish your work yet?"

"No, there's a man there, at the door," he replied earnestly. Finally, I looked up and stared at the door more closely. There was something about that head, that hair...that bothered me sufficiently.

I thought for a moment. No...it couldn't be...

I gasped. I would have recognized that person anywhere.

It had to be John Taylor.

"Class, I am stepping outside this very door, and I expect you all to be through with the questions when I get back," I said quickly, leaving the classroom as my students turned to their books and got started, amid groans.

I shut the door behind me, almost breathless. "John! What are *you* doing here?"

That famous grin of his worked its way around the edges of his mouth. "What do you think I'm doing here? Looking for you."

He'd come back for me. All these years, there'd been hope against hope that he'd come back for me, get down on one knee and say he'd marry me. After all these years. The dream I thought that had died years ago when there had been phone calls and letters...and then nothing.

"So you just decided to drive up here..." I said, remembering that John had said he liked Los Angeles, so maybe he had finally decided to relocate in the States.

John pulled me over in a hug. "Yes, I did. It's not that long of a drive up the coast from L.A. It's so good to see you," he said, eyes twinkling. "You look beautiful, as usual."

I blushed profusely, looking down at what could not be considered especially becoming for a woman of my age, but exactly the kind of thing an elementary school teacher could get away and still be practical. Beige cord slacks, and a denim shirt with navy flower embroidery.

He was wearing a navy blue sweater, gray pants, and a pair of sunglasses sat perched right above a blonde highlight in his otherwise brown hair - reminding me of his young self almost a decade ago. A guitar case leaned up against the lockers.

"Oh please, I am looking at jet-setting Mr. John Taylor and he's telling *me* that I look good?" I mocked.

"Jet-setting?" He laughed. "You're bloody kidding. More like twelve-stepping!"

I smiled. "You look a lot better than the last time I saw you." I was utterly relieved.

John sighed, smiling back. "I *feel* a lot better than the last time I saw *you* Miss Huang," he replied good-naturedly, fiddling with his shades. "When'll school be out, so I can talk to you?"

"Talk...what about?" Secretly I was excited about being with my long-lost love, but I had to maintain my composure.

John pretended to look exasperated. "Grace, come on! There's lots to talk about." I averted my eyes, thinking about my kids.

"Oh, school will be over by 3 - just over an hour from now, if you don't mind waiting in the library..."

John looked at me thoughtfully. "Actually, I was hoping I could sit in on your class and, you know, observe," he said. "Might learn something. If that's okay with you, that is."

I smiled. "Why not. We don't get many *famous* visitors..." I opened the door for him, he stepped in, and I introduced him to the class. "Now class, we have an unexpected visitor this afternoon - everyone, say hello to Mr. Taylor. Mr. Taylor is a good friend of mine."

A chorus of "hi, Mr. Taylor!" erupted.

"Hullo all," John said gingerly, smiling. "I'm just going to sit in the back and watch you all working, if that's all right." He received a couple of nods and then disappeared to the back of the room, holding the guitar case.

As promised, the class and I went though the ten problems, I sped through a short discussion of the uses of corn in Mexican life, and soon enough the day was over. "Class dismissed," I said tiredly after the school bell rang, and the students ran out of the room. All except little John Hunt. He seemed intrigued by John for some reason.

"Miss Huang?" he asked, zipping up his backpack. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Sure Johnny, what is it?"

"Is Mr. Taylor from another country? Because his voice doesn't sound like yours at all!"

John got up and was walking toward the front of the classroom. "Yes, I am," he replied. "I'm from England. Do you know where that is?"

Little John nodded. "Yup. That's in Europe. That's far away."

"Very far away," John added. "Your name's John, is it?"

"Uh-huh...why?"

"My name is John, too. What a coincidence."

"Really?"

"Mmmmhmmm."

Little John hopped from one foot to the other, back and forth. "Mister John, can I ask you what's in that case you're holding?"

John placed the case flat on a desk to open it. "Sure. It's my guitar."

Little John's eyes widened with glee. "Wow! You have an elec-tric guitar?"

Nodding, John added, "yep. This baby's mine."

"Awesome! Can I touch it?" little John asked, almost shyly.

John was happy to oblige, removing the bass from its case and placing it in little John's arms, who ran his fingers across the strings. The gentle way he was with kids made me think of the days when I thought John Taylor would be the perfect father.

"Wow. Awesome! Maybe you can come and play for our class sometime?" He looked so hopeful. I seriously wondered what John was doing here...

I looked at John. "Maybe," I said wearily. "But I need to talk with Mr. Taylor, John."

"Okay!" little John said, placing the bass back into its case, and then stooping over to grab his backpack. "Nice to meet you Mister John!" He skipped out of the classroom.