On My Knees

HEARTS OF STONE She stood in the center of whirling chaos seemingly unaffected. This was what had caught his eye at first. What kept his eyes on her was the concentration and curvy body that just didn't quit. A body and a mind, this could prove to be interesting. The softly surging music causing her body to sway in time transfixed him. She was lovely to behold true, but there was an underlying mystique that bewitched him. Seemingly unable to stop his own body, he verily floated across the room. Before he reached her he was abruptly stopped by a woman of grand stature. Tall and bulky she fit the profile of a Russian olympic weightlifter, and the understated soft pink chiffon dress did not suit her rudy complexion giving a comic air about her. He recognized her as a wealthy patron to the gallery that had been mentioned in the opening speech before the door to the room was unveiled in the quasi ceremony of this gallery opening. "Tell me young man," she directed at him while griping his forearm, "what does the younger generation think of this so called return to the classic styles? Don't you think it is just another homage to the masters and therefore not really true art?" Mentally he rolled his eyes. This highbrow nonsense was often too much for him. Of art he only knew what he liked and disliked. He was not the type of man to critique others or delve into the periods layered in art history. "Really I think it is subjective. If art can exist to perpetuate itself then who are we to argue if it be inherently genuine enough as long as it is expressly original?" At that he left the woman stunned and walked away sipping off his glass in hand. Perturbed that he lost sight of the fairy queen he had been looking upon he turned instead to the art, after all that was the reason why he was there in the first place wasn't it? A sensual sculpture caught his attention and he caressed it with his brooding eyes. The lines were effortless and the balance weighty. He imagined a lot of work had to go into the birth of that piece. Surely one needed strong hands to carve stone. He wondered if he had the gift to do such as stood before him. He had strong hands, he had strong will, he had deep desires that burst forth. Could he make them as solid and as alive as this fragment of someones soul he now gazed upon? "Do you like it or does it puzzle you?" a voice from behind him asked. He spun on his heel and it took a moment to realize that he had to look down to find the owner of said voice. There she stood, an elven deiety with a mischievious smirk upon her luciously plump mauve lips. His grin burst out of hiding causing hers to widen also. He answered her querry. "Actually both. I enjoy the piece for what it is as well as it stirring some personal questions in me also." Why he had blurted out his most honest and unguarded thoughts was beyond him. Her delicate featured face drew an expression of concearn but yet did not loose it's frivolity. "I hope nothing disturbing and dark for the piece was meant to bring an aura of peace and tranquility while still stating a questing thirst for all that is wonderful in life." He marveled at her knowlege in the matter. "You know about art then?" He asked eagerly. "I don't." she stated with slightly downcast eyes. "I only know of myself." His mind wrapped around her softly spoken words and registered their meaning. With awed surprize he asked the question that popped into his mouth waiting to be answered. "This is your piece?" Then he answered his question himself in a round about kind of way. "If this is your piece than that means that all of these are your pieces aren't they? You're Moirah O'Hara?" She laughed softly at his enthusiasm. To him it sounded like chimes on the wind, everything he knew of her he found beautiful. She extended her hand. "Guilty as charged." she spoke, her slight brogue evident to his worldly ears. He took her hand in his. Tiny as a childs but still strength was evidenced as they briefly shook. When he let go her, he felt sadened at the sudden loss. He shook it off, not wanting to dwell on anything negative in the presence of such a woman whom could capture his roving eye and hold it with the will of her mind. She was special. "It is quite an honor to meet you." he nearly gushed. "I have admired some of your pieces now for a few years, that was what brought me out tonight. When I heard you were going to have an opening I thought maybe I may have the chance to see some others that caught my eye." She smiled genuinely up at him as she adressed him. "Did you see anything that caught your fancy in particular? Perhaps I could enlighten you about it from the artists point of view as opposed to the critics." He turned his body as he steped to stand beside her and look, once again, upon the sculpture of the figure in stone he had been mulling over about when she found him. "I think this one says more to me than any other. I have found many stirring and some lovely but this... this I find demanding." He turned to her and searched her eyes for acceptance from her of his perception on her soul child in stone before them. Her eyes seemed to hold a far away memory in the green expanses. A quivering smile acompanied her shaky voice as she seemingly struggled not to sob. "That is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said about one of my pieces. So honest, so concisely factual. You said it as if it were gospel." His heart soared, he had touched her in the most intimate way sans physical contact. He had brought tears of joy to her lovely eyes and she never could look any more beautiful. She attempted to swipe at the tears that threatened to spill, he reached out and stopped her hand, holding it as he spoke softly to her. "Don't do that, don't spoil the real beauty that is you." He lifted her hand to his lips and gently placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. Her eyes closed in atempts to hold in her joy lest it run away if set free. A tear did escape and he stepped closer to her to brush it away with his thumb as he caressed her porcelain skin. For a brief moment he allowed himself the bliss of just touching her and holding her hand. He marvled at her startling beauty, stood in awe of her seering passion with her art, and gazed upon the evidence that a mind can be strong and vulnerable in balance. He was enraptured with her. All too soon the spell between them was shattered when Isaac stepped up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Zac we gotta jet. We gotta get some sleep in before our flight in the morning." Tearing his eyes from perfection incarnate he turned to his brother. Eyes in a haze of the surealistic images he had beheld, he scrambled to clear his mind and return to reality. When her hand slipped away from his he thought he might cry out in pain of her abscence. Abruptly he turned to find out what had caused his universe to tumble down yanking her away from him. She was amid a sea of several stuffy looking old money types being led away but her head was swiveled and her eyes sought his. He could see the matching pain of his heart in her emerald gems. She drifted away from him into the crowd but her being was indelably imprinted on his soul. Taylor shuffled up beside him and gave him a playful poke in the arm. "Put your eyes back in your head, geez man you look like your puppy just died." As he lost sight of her and he let his brothers turn him around bodily to head for the door he tried his best to shake his head and clear it. It was no use, no matter how hard he tried he could not loose the thoughts of her. He knew not when, where, or how, but he knew he had to find her again someday. He must. In a daze he traipsed to the awaiting limo in the darkened night. His brothers shoved him in lovingly and followed suit. Isaac took notice of his brothers lack of control and commented on it. "You ok man? You really are out of it. Are you sick or something?" He lay a hand on his brothers knee to gain his attention when he failed to answer. "Zac?" Zac looked up from his stuper to meet the eyes of his brother. "You ok?" Zac nodded and turned away toward the window. Tracing the streaking drops of rain with a bandaged fingertip he sighed as he watched yet another city full of lights wizz by the window. Already he ached for her. He didn't even know if she knew who he was but he thought perhaps this was what it felt like to fall in love. Had he fallen in love? If he had he had fallen pretty hard, and it hurt like a son of a bitch. Taylor watched his sullen brother in silence for a few moments then adressed his older brother, worried over his younger brothers condition. "Do you know whats the matter with him?" He asked in a harsh whisper as if Zac couldn't hear him even though he was sitting right next to him. Isaac leaned across the space between them toward Taylor in a conspiritorial mannor. "The only thing I know is when I found him he was flirting really smoothly with some chick. Holding her hand and touching her face. She was crying. Probably just another fan looking for a cheap thrill form her fantasy man." At that Zacs head snapped around and the fire of fury was evident in his flashing eyes. His tone of voice barely holding back the bitter anger, he causticly spit his words at his brother through clenched teeth. "Don't you ever say anything like that about Moirah again, do you hear me?" He warned with such fierocity that it nearly frightened Isaac. Taken aback by his little brothers sudden ire he pressed against the seat again as he held his hands up protectively, palms out, chest high, as if he were actually to strike out at him. "Shit, I'm sorry Zac. I... I didn't know." The tension in Zac's body visibly released some when he realized he had actually frightened his brother with his hostility. Still, he was pissed at Isaacs perception of the situation and only conceeded a portion. "Just don't let it happen again." He said tersely with a tight lipped expression. Isaac nodded, a silent appology pleading from his eyes. Zac merely shot him one last warning glance and turned back to the window resuming his sullen stance as if nothing had even happened. He lay his golden head against the cool glass and closed his eyes. Both of his brothers looked at each other in silence. Their expressions echoing one another as if to say, 'what the hell was that all about?!' Together they shrugged and an unspoken pact was made to no longer speak for the duration of the ride. When they pulled up to the hotel entrance Taylor held up his hand to let Isaac know that he would take the risk to disturb their brother. Isaac gratefully nodded and climbed out of the sleek black car. Holding the door open, he waited for his brothers to follow suit. Taylor gently lay a hand on Zacs shoulder. "Hey buddy, we're here." Reluctantly he opened his eyes without so much as a glance toward his sibling. He heaved his bulking mass toward the door and tumbled out with the grace of an ox. Dragging his feet and head bowed he walked toward the door. Even to the teeniest of fans who awaited every arival of the brothers it was obvious that Zac was not to be disturbed tonight for he had something of great importance weighing on his mind. It was almost quiet as they let Zac pass through unaccosted. His brothers watched with heavy hearts as Zac headed directly towards the elevators. Feeling sorry for the lack of love from their brother, Isaac and Taylor worked the crowd with extra special care answering the myriad of questions. They couldn't tell them the truth for they themselves didn't even know what ailed their brother. They merely stated that Zac was feeling under the weather and needed to get out of the night air. The fans blindly accepted their excuse and reveled in the fact that the other two thirds of the band had stuck around long enough to afford many an autograph and photo op. Shuffling into the hotel suite, Zac discarded his jacket on the back of a chair. Kicked off his shoes as he headed toward his room. Peeled off his socks midstep going in the same direction. Unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the floor as he passed Taylors room. Pulled his undershirt over his head and let it fall where he was. Walking through his door he stepped out of his jeans. Not bothering to flip on the light or turn down the bed, in his boxers he flopped on the bed with a mighty heave of his heavy chest. He curled up in a tight ball and wrapped the comforter around his aching body, only a tiny moan escaped his parched lips. He squeezed his eyes shut so tight it hurt, tring to stop the tears. He was so confused. Why was he feeling this way? He didn't even know her. What was so different about her than the other fourty million women he had met so far? He really didn't care what it was, she was just special and that was all there was to it. He could faintly hear the entrance of his two older brothers. Not caring about what they said he ignored the coments about his state of sanity. Isaac complained of the seemingly childish actions as he picked up his brothers trail of clothing. He stopped at his door and peered in at him in the dark. Sighing softly he lay his clothes down on the chest of drawers and walked away shaking his head. Taylor and Isaac sat in the common room and talked softly amongst themselves. This was a worry. Zac was often sullen or withdrawn over a purpose, but this time they were at a loss as to what the reason for the occasion was. How could they help him if they didn't know what had brought this on? It wasn't good business savy to have a member of the band in a pissy mood for the entirety of promotions. They were going to have to do something, even if that meant bringing out the big guns... fly Mom to New York and have her sort him out. Nobody could resist the tactics of Mom, not even moody Zac. They were deciding what they were going to tell their father in the morning when a blurr of blonde hair and tawny flesh flew out of Zac's room and buzzed by them out the door. Stunned to say the least the two brothers imediately followed their seemingly insane brother, fearing for his safety for he had just fled into the hallway of a four star hotel in his underware. They found him soon enough. He stood in all his half naked glory furiously pounding on the door of his father and Isaacs suite, panic and anticipation written clearly over his face. Fearing a riot Isaac quickly steped to the door and produced his key card to open the door. He did so swiftly and Zac barreled through the door nearly knocking over his father who was in the process of tying his robe to answer the door. His father took on an exasperated tone and adressed his three sons in bewilderment. "What is all the ruckus about? And where are your clothes Zac?" he added when he noticed his sons state of half dress. Zac waved off the questions and pounced on his father verbaly. "Dad, call Jennifer and have her wire thirty thousand to my checking account right now." This floored Walker and he sat harshly on the chair behind him visibly shaking. Isaac rushed to his aid and knelt down beside him. Walker patted Isaac's hand as it lay on the armrest of the chair he sat in to asure him he was ok. "Zac, what is all of this about? Are you in some kind of trouble? Taylor go get my planer and look up the number of our lawyer, not the corperate lawyer..." Before he could finish Zac took over. "I am not in any trouble Dad, I just need the money right now before she's gone, before it's gone. Please!" Taylor stopped in his tracks and turned to his brother. "You mean all of this shit tonight was over a woman? And what the hell is the money for? That's a lot of money to be tossing around you know!" Zac turned his attention towards his brother and Taylor could see the fire in his belly as he put his point across. His passion lay open like a wound. "She isn't just any woman, she's special. I know it's a lot of money, but I would pay any amount." Isaac rose from the floor and put a hand on Zac's shoulder to gain his attention. Zac spun around expecting to meet more resistance and he was ready to fight... ready to fight for HER. But, when he looked into the eyes of his loving older brother he knew that Isaac understood. "You love her don't you Zac?" he asked gently. A single tear slid down Zac's fleshy cheek, he nodded and hung his head in exhaustion. All of his steam that he had built up, now was gone with the simple acknowlegement of his weakness. He was a conquered man and he was willing to do anything for the victor of his heart. Isaac slung his arm over Zac's shoulders and Walker stood up. "Zac..." he started aprehensively, "You are still young yet. Do you really know what love is? And how long have you known this girl? Does she love you too? Do we know her? It is a dangerous thing to go around declaring ones love out of the blue you know." Walker was calm and gentle but he did want his son to know that sometimes, life bit you on the ass. Zac sighed but would not give in to defeat. He knew this was going to take a lot of explaining, but she was worth everything he had. "Dad, I... I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to say it outright. I know who she is. She is an artist I have admired for a while now. We have seen some of her pieces and that was why I wanted to go to her gallery opening tonight. I felt like she was an artist that I could connect with. I went there looking to enrich my soul with art, but I came away fulfilled in spirit by the artist." His father sat again. When had his boy grown into the man who stood before him now, orating his passionate love for a woman he just met? He shook his head and tried again to be the voice of reason. "Zac, you're only seventeen. I know you are passionate about the things in your world, but out there, in the real world, sometimes things don't turn out the way we want. I just don't want you to make a mistake and get hurt." Zac slipped from Isaacs casual embrace and bent to hold a steady gaze with his father. His voice held every conviction in the world that he would die for it and rightly so. He loved her. He stated it simply that which was etched in his heart and left them all startled by what he spoke. "Dad, I love her." His father sat silently for a moment to gather himself. When he opened his mouth to protest Zac cut him off. "When you knew that you loved Mom was there anything that could stand in your way of having her?" Walker swallowed hard as he saw the truth held in Zac's eyes. "Taylor get me the phone." Taylor stood with mouth agape. "What?! Are you kidding me? Aren't you even going to ask him what the money is for?" he asked incredulously. Walker stood and retrieved the phone himself. "He's a man. He is in love. It's his money to do with as he sees fit. There is nothing more I can do for him but pray he has made the right decision and he doesn't end up getting hurt." Taylor stared between his father and his brothers as Walker now ignored him and tended to the business at hand of seeing to Zac's request. Isaac leaned toward his brother and whispered in his ear. "You do realize if you don't tell Tay he is gonna drive us nuts. He's hella jealous right now you know." Zac chuckled softly despite everything and turned to his brother. "You will both have to wait til we get home to find out. Now if you excuse me I have a phone call to make to woo the heart of my lady love." With that he turned and walked to the door. "Good night all." And he left the three just as bewildered but flushed with a mixture of pride, awe, and angst. One quiet phone call behind his closed bedroom door later, Zac was then on his way to his first fitful night of sleep. Still, he could not let go the glimmer of hope that shone in his tiny smile that remained even in his slumber. He was a man smitten. And he loved it. In the morning while Taylor showered, Zac took the oppurtunity to call his mother. He was sure his father had already talked to her and he wanted her to hear it directly from him as well. After three rings someone picked up. "Hello?" came the unmistakable teenaged whine of his sister. "Hey Jess, is Mom up yet?" "Oh, hey Zac. Yeah, but she's in giving Zoe her bath, seems someone created a crisis and Mom is herding the Hanson crowd toward the airport in a couple of hours." she said with an air of being privy. He knew she did not know the nature of the so called crisis but he also knew that she guessed it was him that had brought their mother to such extremes. He played along with her little game. "Oh really?" He heard her huff on the other end. "So what did you do this time Zac?" she accused. He chuckled. "What makes you think it was me this time?" he shot back. He could hear the sneering smirk in her voice that he knew was adorning her face. "Because fuzz face, it's always you. Besides, Mom went into your room and came out with your dress suit. So, when's your court appearance monkey butt breath?" This was something that threw him off a bit. What was his mother up to? She was a very sneaky lady on occasion and not one to be triffled with. "Very funny Jess. I didn't do anything wrong." He stated firmly. "Ah so it was Taylor then. How many underaged groupies did they find in his room *this* time?" At that they both laughed. After their shared barb at Taylors expense she got serious for a moment. "You know Zac, if you need me, I'm here for you. You know that right?" He loved his sister. "Yeah. I know Jess. And Jess?" "Yeah?" "Thanks." "Hey, I do love you you big gorrilla." He so much wanted to hug her now. He would be sure to give her an extra squeeze when they met up in the airport later on. "Hang on Zac, Mack is trying to force feed the cat bubble gum again." He laughed and waited as he listened to the mini war that ensued there after. "Hello?" Avie. "Hey, is that world war three?" "Hi Zac! Yeah it looks like it. But I think Jess is still big enough to win. At least for now. I suppose you wanna talk to Mom?" "Yeah, could ya? Please?" He felt kind of bad for brushing off Avie but he really did need to talk to his mother before he had to catch his flight. A few moments of chewing his thumbnail passed then he heard on the other end of the line. "That is quite enough! Jess, go dress Zoe. Mack, leave Peabody alone and go pack your books now mister! Avie, take the cat to Mrs. Evans next door and don't forget to thank her. She already knows everything she needs to." He heard silence and a slight sigh, then, "Zac?" He missed his Mom. He was glad she caved and was on her way to see them, even if it was under distressful conditions, she was his Mom and he would always need her in some way, of that he was sure. "Yeah Mom, it's me." He said meekly. "Oh baby! Your Dad called me in the middle of the night crying. You really pulled a number on him this time you know." He let loose a pent up breath. He didn't know he'd had that effect on his father. His father never cried! Now he felt guilty, but not enough to give up the notion of having HER in his life. "I'm sorry Mom. Really I am. I didn't mean to be so difficult with Dad, but Mom..." She didn't let him finnish. "Zachary. You did nothing wrong. Do not beat yourself up over this. It was just that your Dad saw for the first time that you weren't his little boy anymore. It scared him to think that you had grown into a man and he hadn't realized it." This brought a genuine uninhibited smile to his lips. He felt so loved right then, he never wanted to give up that happy place that he had just found, then he remembered Moirah's eyes. So hauntingly beautiful. He could never be truely happy again without her. He pushed forward in his drive and explained everything he could over the phone to his mother. She accepted everything quietly and did not so much as comment until he was quite finnished. When he stopped to catch his breath he could tell she was gathering her thoughts. "So? What do you have to say about it Mom?" he asked her. She let out a long slow breath. "Zac. I think all of this is something we need to talk over in person. There is obviously so much more. We will talk in a few hours when we meet you at the airport ok?" He reluctantly agreed and sat on pins and needles the rest of the day for his mother gave no indication of her opinion on the matter. This worried him. He loved his parents dearly, but could he ever choose between them and the woman he had found that filled in the other half of his very essence? He hoped he would never be put in the position to have to do so. He would die of a broken heart either way. Of that he was sure. Zac shuffled into the terminal amid a sea of bodies yet he still felt so alone. Eyes downcast he followed the feet of his brothers before him so he wouldn't have to look anyone in the eye. He didn't have time to waste on trying to explain his attitude to anyone. His mind was filled with swirling thoughts and emotions. "Zac honey?" He lifted his eyes from the floor to be greeted with the open arms of his waiting mother. Never before had he needed a hug so badly. He dropped all of the bags he was carrying and hurried to her. She wrapped her arms about his shoulders the best she could what with the impeeding knapsack and his stature. He bent to her and twined his arms aound her waist, lifting her as he stood up again. He burried his face in the haven of her sweet smelling hair in the crook of her neck. She felt the silent sobs of his heaving chest. "Shh Baby. It's gonna be alright now." She soothed as she smooothed back his hair from his forehead. He nodded on her shoulder and gently placed her back down giving her an extra squeeze before he let her go. He stood back from her and she caressed his cheek. She didn't need to say anything. Everything she had to say was held in her eyes. She understood. And for that he was grateful. It made his plight that much more easy to bear. "Don't I get a hug too? You big jerk!" He turned to find his sister Jessica standing with hand on hip and tapping her foot impatiently. Simultaniously a grin broke out on the similar faces. With a lunge he grabbed her in a giant bear hug and squeezed until she tried to scream but failed due to lack of air. She pushed on his shoulders so he relented and let her go again, setting her back on the floor with a not so tender shove. "There, happy now?" he quipped with mischief in his smile. "Quite, and then some." She shot back equally happy to see her family back together again. Then he turned to Avie and gave her a much more subdued hug, even a quick kiss on the cheek to make up for the last time they had talked, or the lack there of. A nod and a high five to Mack, being the bigger brother he understood that his sibling viewed the mushy stuff as a girl thing now... he was happy to oblige his little brother in his whim. Soon enough he would grow out of that phaze. He quickly stole Zoe away from Taylor and threw her up on his shoulders for an impromptu horsey ride. She was delighted of course and showed her thrill in the cascade of little girl giggles that made her famous in the family of Hanson. "Zac! What about the bags?" Taylor querried as Zac headed toward the doors. Zac turned around and eyed his older brother with tiny chubby hands clasped under his chin. "You carry 'em. Most of that crap is yours anyway!" With that he took off like a shot with a shrieking Zoe hanging on for dear life. Down time was spent quietly in his hotel rooms and brooding during rides. All of the family were worried for his health. He ate very little and slept even less. Then one day he burst through the door of his parents hotel room. "Mom, I found her!" She jumped up to embrace him. "That's wonderful Zac!" She could see the hope and happiness shining in his eyes as he stood back up. "Your father will be happy for you too I'm sure." He lost a bit of his smile when the shine dulled. "I still have so far to go Mom. What if she doesn't want me?" Gripping his shoulders she shook him slightly. "Don't you say that. You have to be positive. Zac, I will not admit to this ever again so you take heed of it now." He looked to her with curiosity. "Most of the time you are right. And if what you said you saw in her eyes that night was real enough for you to carry on as such as you have been, then I believe that she felt it too. You can not give up hope. This is the first step in your journey. If you love her as fiercely as you have already made us believe, then you musn't give up the fight now." He grinned at her. "You always will be able to set me straight won't you Mom? What would I ever do without you?" She rubbed his shoulders up and down lovingly. "That is all in the job description Dear. Now go help Mack with his history." That being said she dismissed him with a turn and went back to folding the laundry on the bed. Zac shook his head. His mother was one in a million. He was glad he had been choosen to recieve her love and guidence. He left the room and did as told. Over the next few days cuiosity buzzed throughout the family over Zac's state of being. Conspiritorial whispered conversations. Middle of the night phone calls. Mood swings galore! They all wondered when the insanity would end and everything would get back to normal, at least their semblance of normality. One early morning during a radio interview Zac's phone rang. Odd enough for it to be onair but when he actually excused himself his brothers were livid! Despite the odd nature of their brothers behavior they tried their best to laugh it off and continue on with the job at hand. There would be hell to pay later on, that was for certain. Two hours later Zac was found in his hotel room packing while he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder. "Yes, fifteen minutes please." Pause. "Thank you." And he put the phone back on its cradle. Taylor stormed in the door. "What the hell was that all about?" Zac ignored the question and continued with his task. Taylor was pissed beyond belief. He grabbed Zacs wrist and spun him around to face him. "What the hell do you think you are doing?!" Zac was eerily calm when he adressed his brother. "You will let go of me now. I have a plane to catch and if I miss it because you and your shit, I will not be held responsible for your welfare." Startled, Taylor let go of his brother and backed away. He had never seen his brother wear such an intense look of determination before. Zac zipped his bag shut and turned to Isaac. "I'm sorry, but I really have to do this and I have to do this now." Then he turned to his father. "I packed everything already. Just have it brought along with you when you go to Chicago. I'll meet you there. Mom already knows everything. Go talk to her." Then he pushed his way through the assembled crowd of his family and co-workers, and headed for the elevators. A last wave to his loved ones and he was gone. Zac stepped from his room and was imediately confronted by Darius, his body guard. "It's ok. I'm just gonna take the car downtown. If ya wanna come that's ok with me but I just got some errands to run." With a friendly nod they headed for the elevators. "So you're gonna do it huh?" Zac looked up from the carpet. "Do what?" he asked the man at his side. "Jump off the deep end. Tie the rope around your neck. Aquire a ball and chain?" Zac laughed at his choice of colorful examples. "Yeah I suppose one could put it that way. But really, I think of it as more... I don't know... as completing myself." Darius gave him a sideways look. "I fear it's too late for ya dude. You're too far gone already, you're hooked aint ya?" Zac grinned. "Yeah, I am." Darius clapped him on the back as they exited the elevator. "Well good for you buddy, but don't you dare tell my ex-wife I said that!" They laughed all the way to the exit. In the car Zac seemed a bit more nervous as the day wore on. "You want me to drive? You seem... preoccupied." Darius asked. Zac was grateful for the friend at his side. He shook his head. "Nah, I'll be ok. I'm just a bit jittery that's all." Darius nodded and settled in after turning up the cd a bit more. Several hours and one shower later, a wet Zac paced the floor of his hotel room in a towel as his wet hair dripped cascades down his back. Uneasy and nerves shot he pounded on the door to the adjoining room. "Darius!" A moment later a concerned face peered in from the half opened door. "What the hell is up?" He opened the door and stood to watch Zac pace. "Shit man, don't tell me you're loosing your nerve now man!" Darius entered the room. Zac stopped briefly and looked to his friend. Darius could see the wild look in his eyes. "What if..." But Darius cut Zac off. "Zac. Your mom went over this with you remember?" Zac nodded keeping his head down. Darius continued as he stepped to his friend and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You will get through this. No matter what happens, you will survive. We love you and we support you. Now get dressed, unless of course you plan on really impressing her with your sexy body on your first date!" Zac laughed. "Thanks man. I'm sorry I'm such a big wuss." Darius shrugged on his way back to his room. "Hey, no problem. I know you would do the same if it were me." Then he left Zac to his own devices. Zac sighed and grabbed the other towel from the chair where he had thrown it and continued to dry his hair on his way back to the bathroom to shave. This was the hardest thing he could ever remember getting through, even tougher than preforming on the gramies. He shut the blowdryer off and was thankful for the moment of silence. He stood and brushed his hair back into a tail while he watched his reflection in the mirror. Steeling his nerves, he sucked in his breath. He could do this. He had to do this. He had to or his very soul would die. Shaking his head he reached for his toothbrush. Just as he was about to spit a knock sounded at his door. Darius stuck his head in the doorway and yelled, "I got it!" He went to the door and took care of the matter for Zac. Just as he handed the boy a tip and closed the door Zac entered the room in his boxers. "Is it ready?" Zac asked. Darius held up the bag on the hanger. "Yup." and handed it to Zac. "You need help or anything just holler." Darius offered and left the room once more. Zac tore the thin plastic away and silently thanked his mom for being so foresighted. She truely was an amazing woman. When he got to Chicago he would have to remember to do something special to show her how grateful he was for such a fantastic Mom. Darius fixed his tie as Zac squirmed. "Hold still! Cripes you're worse than Mack!" Zac stood still with Darius's hands at his throat. "I highly doubt that." He grinned. "There!" Darius sighed and pushed Zac away at the shoulders for a once over. "I suppose you're presentable now." he smirked. Zac grinned back. "Ya think?" More seriously Darius replied. "I know." Zac grew quiet as his grin faded into a nervously tight look as he bit his lip. "Well I hope you're right. I really hope so." With a deep breath to steady himself he grabbed his stuff off the dresser and headed out the door. His palms were damp and his stomach was tied in knots, but his determination won out over all. He stepped from the elevator and adjusted his tight collar. His eyes scanned the lobby for pesky fans out of habit. Heaving a heavy sigh he briskly walked across the room and entered the hotel resteraunt. Now it was do or die. He only prayed he wouldn't crash and burn. This meant the world to him. He approached the hostess. "Hanson." he said un-neededly. She smiled widely at him and led him with an arching sweep of her arm. He sat at the quiet corner table and waited impatiently for his destiny. This night had taken months to prepare for, and still, he felt unready. He looked down at his watch and wondered if it were too late to call his Mom for moral support. "A-hem." His head snapped up and he melted into a puddle. There she was. More radiant than the sun itself. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes met hers. Shaking his head a bit he got a hold of himself. He quickly rose to greet her. She stepped to him and surprized him with a warm hug. He reveled in the warmpth as he put his arms around her slight body. When they drew back he held her shoulders and smiled at her. "I'm so glad you could make it." She smiled back at him. "How could I refuse you?" Her brogue soft in her words. He grinned at her and pulled out her chair to seat her, then sat again himself. She adressed him apologeticly. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long, I had trouble getting paint out of my hair." She laughed. He laughed with her. "No actually I just came down myself." Then he remembered himself and took up the box from the seat next to him. "These are for you. I hope you like them. They were my Grandmothers favorites and I just thought..." She graciously took the box from him and opened it. "Oh Zac! They are lovely! Thank you!" She gushed. "I love them." She stated as she breathed in the aroma. "They look so old fashioned. Violets and a pink rose, I love pink roses!" She looked to his beaming face and lay her hand on his. "Thank you." and she squeezed his hand. He placed his other hand over hers and reciprocated the gesture. "You're welcome. You deserve so much more." His earnest eyes held hers and silently she believed he would give to her the world if she asked for it. Their moment was interupted by the waiter, but they didn't mind to much. They were together to talk now. Face to face, no phone stood between them. They were more than happy. All through dinner the conversation was endless. Much of the food went un-noticed for they were too distracted by each other to pay attention to the cuisine. After an hour or more they had finnished sufficient amounts enough for the waiter to warrant the querry of dessert. The list was tempting and boundless. They decided to share a decadent piece of New York chocolate cheesecake. Surely between the two of them they could handle that. When the confection arrived they eyed it. It was large but looked scrumptious. There was only one fork though. They cautiously looked at each other. A grin broke out on her face and she stuck her finger in the creamy smoothness and brought it up to her pale purple lips. Her tongue snaked out and she tasted of the lucious treat. She closed her eyes in euphoria and tipped her head back in delight. "Oh God that's good!" She sighed. "Yeah." He squeeked out. That sight was almost more than he could handle. She opened her eyes on him and saw how flushed his face was. Slightly embarrased but still bold enough to keep a hold on herself she giggled. "Sorry." She said as she took up the fork. "It's just been a while since I've had cheesecake." She stated as she cut into the slice between them. "Here, try it. You will see what I mean." She offered him the morsel. He steadied her hand with his own and guided it towards his parted lips. She watched in quietness as he too tasted of the delight and had nearly the same reaction. Now it was her turn to quell a flushed face. His beauty washed over her mind and spirit. She had all she could do to stop herself from moaning aloud. Comming to her senses when he let go her hand she snapped back to reality. She couldn't do this. It wasn't right. She placed the fork down on the dish and pushed it toward him. "You go ahead and enjoy yourself. I gotta go!" She hastily gathered up her coat and purse and arose from the table. Startled Zac grabbed at her wrist as she was turning to flee. "Why?" He questioned in a strangled voice. She could barely control the tears when she saw the hurt in his eyes. "I can't do this Zac. I just can't. Please! Try to understand!" She wrenched her hand away from his grasp and ran from the building leaving a bewildered and devastated Zac behind. What had he done wrong? What? Gingerly he picked up the nosegay he had picked out for her and brought it up to his face. His jaw tensed and he crushed it in his huge calloused hand. He quickly stood and threw a few large bills on the table then stormed out himself. He slammed the door to his room and threw himself into a chair. He was seething! Darius yanked open the adjoining door. "What the hell are you doing back so soon? What happened?" Zac looked daggers toward him, chest heaving and fists clenched on the arms of the chair. "She walked out!" He spat. Darius's face dropped and he knelt in front of Zac. "Call her." Zac shook his head. "She won't listen to me. She doesn't want me!" Darius lay his hand on Zacs arm. "She will listen if you call her. You have come so far Zac. Why do you want to give up now?" Zac wiped the angry tears from his eyes. "Do you really think she will?" Darius could see the hope Zac was clinging so desperately to in his eyes. "She has to." Darius said. He rose from the floor and handed Zac the phone then turned to leave. "She has to Zac." Zac watched the door close quietly and he was left alone with the phone in his lap. He looked at it and ground another tear off his face with the heel of his hand. Timidly he picked it up and punched in the numbers. It rang and he hung it up quickly. He steeled himself and took a shaky breath. Again he dialed and again it rang. This time he waited for her to pick up. Two rings. Three rings. Four rings. Pick up. "You have reached the residence of Moirah O'Hara. Please leave your name and number and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you." BEEP. "Moirah? Are you there? Please pick up. I guess you haven't gotten home yet." He opened his hand and gazed at the kaleidoscope of pinks and purples. "Please Moirah, I need you. I need to talk to you. Call me back. You have my number." He clicked the phone off and threw it on the bed beside him. He burried his face in his hands and sobbed into the petals. He was so lost without her. Devestation was not something he knew how to handle. When his sobs quieted he drew in a cleansing breath. He decided he had to make her talk to him. Had to let her know. Had to show her what he would do for her. He could not go on without her and he refused to do so. Tenderly he lay the remains of the flowers in his hankerchief from his coat breast pocket. He stood and loosened his tie, then let his hair down. He strode to the door and knocked. "Darius?" Soon the door opened and Darius looked to him with question in his eyes. Zac sighed. "She wasn't home yet. I'm gonna take the car and go over there." Darius shot him a look but Zac ignored it. "Do you even know how to get there?" Darius asked. "I can make it. I just wanted to let you know where I was so you wouldn't worry. I have my cell with me if you need me or if I need you ok?" Zac let him know. "You sure about this?" Darius tried. Zac gave him his answer in his eyes. "I have never been more sure of anything before. I have to." Darius relented. "Ok. Later then. Be careful." Zac nodded and replied, "I will. Bye." With that he left the room and headed to the car that would bring him to her that he loved. The dark streets passed him by one by one and he felt so alone. He didn't want to loose his nerve and he needed moral support now more than ever. Taking one hand from the wheel he reached into his inside coat pocket and fetched out his cell phone. He punched in the numbers while he tried to keep his eyes on the road. "Room fourteen ten please." He waited. "Hello?" Zac already felt a bit better. "Jess?" "Zac? Why are you calling? Aren't you supposed to be on a date now?" He sighed. He supposed Jess was blessed with the same straight forward personality he himself posessed. "I was." He told her. He heard her draw in her breath. "What happened Zaccy?" She asked. Damn, she sounded so much like Mom it was scary. "I need to talk to Mom." He ignored her question. Jess sighed and he knew it wasn't good. "She's gone. They all went out to dinner." Zac was crestfallen. "Oh." He felt a bit out of sorts that he didn't have his mom to lean on now, but he had to handle this like a man. "Why are you there then?" His question suddenly popped into his mind. "If you must know nosey I have cramps." She confessed. "Eww Jess that is way more than I needed to know!" They chuckled together. Things quieted between the two when the laughs faded. "Zac?" "Yeah?" "Are you in the car?" "Yeah." "You on your way to make up with her?" "Yeah." "You're a big man." A watery smile crept up on him. "Thanks Jess. I needed to hear that." He could hear the gentle smile in her voice. "I love you big bro. Now go and win her heart." His sister was blossoming into an amazing woman. When had she gotten so smart? "I'll try my damndest Jess. You know I will. Thank you. Feel better ok?" "Yeah, thanks. Bye Zac." She said gently. He could hear the volumes of love she poured through that phoneline. "Bye Jess. See you soon." And he clicked the phone off and tucked it back away. He was a very blessed man. But still he wanted more. Was he selfish? Or was he only searching for that which was promised him by the intensity of emotions he felt for this ellusive woman? Surely God had wanted him to find her so they could be together. Why else would he feel so strongly for her in such a short time? He turned onto a street lined with looming buildings and trendy looking shops. Somewhere in this intimadating collection of brick and steel was hiding the love of his life. He was here to find her. Hoping he had the right building he parked the car and set the alarm. Entering the building he scanned the mailboxes for her name. He found the number of her abode printed neatly next to her name in a flowing script. He had found her and now he had to face her. He opened the sliding cage door to the freight elevator, the only one in evidence. He jammed his thumb against the number three button and stood in silence, head hanging, as he passed a hand through his hair. When the car came to an abrupt stop he sighed and opened the cage door again. The hall was eerily quiet and he listened to the soft swish of his own foot falls. He neared the end of the hall, stopped, and stood before a door marked with a number twelve. Taking one last deep breath to steady his constitution he knocked firmly on the polished hardwood. Momentarily he heard the sounds of locks clicking and the door opened a fraction. Below the chain that held it her face appeared. Her eyes were red and swollen, she had obviously been crying. When their eyes met a new shuddering sob escaped her. Quickly she shut the door in his face and yelled from within. "Go away Zac!" He heard the click of the lock once more. Zac kept his voice as calm and forceful as he could without yelling. "Moirah! I'm not going to go away. I think you at least owe me an explanation. Why did you run out on me tonight? What did I do wrong? Tell me so I can fix whatever it is. I'll do anything for you and you know that!" He listened for her response. "Just go away Zac!" That was not what he had expected to hear. He gritted his teeth in determination and pounded on her door with a heavy fist. "Moirah! Open the fucking door and let me in! I will stand here all night if I have to!" He warned. Again he heard the click of the lock and the sound of the chain sliding accompanied it as well. The door stood slightly ajar. He pushed it open and surveyed the interior before stepping in. She was walking away from him into a dimly lit room. Her head hung and her bare feet scuffed along the hardwood floor. He followed her. She slumped onto a large stuffed sofa and held a pillow protectively against her body. She reached for a tissue from a nearby box and dabbed at her eyes. She didn't look at him when she spoke to him. "What do you want?" His heart softened and he slid onto the sofa beside her and slung an arm over the back as he turned his body to face her. "Moirah." He said softly. "I only want to know what's wrong. Please. Tell me how I can fix this." She looked to him then and he cringed from the pain in his heart when he saw the hurt in her eyes. "Zac this is something we can't fix. There is no fix to it. We just can't do this, that's all there is to it." She sobbed as her hands wrung the tissue like a rag. He lay his hand gently upon her arm and smoothed it up over her shoulder. "Moirah, there is nothing we can't fix. We can do anything we want. The world is ours for the taking." She shook her head as she spoke. "Zac the world is not your plaything. There are rules to follow and we can not break them without facing the consequences." He captured her chin in his roughened hands. "I don't want the world Moirah. I only want you." At this her tears flowed anew. He drew her into an embrace and soothed her soul with whisperd words of adoration. When she calmed and her hiccuping sobs ceased he still continued to hold her as he listened to her shaky voice against his chest. "Zac, I don't know if I'm strong enough not to give in. I can remember every phonecall and letter with such clarity and through them all not once did it ever occur to me that our growing friendship would be viewed as wrong. I loved every word you gifted to me. You hold the core of my heart in your palms but I don't know if I mind relinquishing ownership of it or not. But Zac, why didn't you tell me?" He pulled away from her to look into her face. "Tell you what?" He asked not knowing what was wrong but knowing that this was the heart of the problem, was what stood between them. Her eyes shifted towards her lap. "That you were only seventeen." She whispered. His heart wrenched. Why would it matter what his age was? What difference would it make? He steeled himself as he confronted her gently. "Does it really matter how old I am?" She raised her head and looked into his face. "To me, no, but to the world we have to live in, very much so." He shook his head. "It shouldn't matter then." "Zac, a decade seperates us!" She cried. "Screw the world. Do what you know is in your heart to be right." He begged of her. "Zac. I know that is the idealistic way of looking at it, but realisticly we have to think of who else it will effect. My public, your fans, our families..." He took up her hand and held it to his chest. "My family knows how I feel about you and they more than accept it, they encourage it. And as for the fans... if they get upset over something that petty, then they weren't true fans in the first place then were they? I can't speak for your public, but do you really care what they think or are you worried about surviving the embarrassment of being with me? Are you afraid of the money you will loose in commisions? What Moirah? What? Like an omen the tissue woven in her fingers tore apart. She looked down to it briefly before she crumpled in into her fist. "Zac, I could never be anything but proud to stand beside you." She lifted her chin in determination, defiance goading him to challenger her. "But could you honestly say that you yourself could withstand the burdoning scrutiny?" Her eyes grew dark as they flicked over his face. She sat waiting for her answer, but she knew his was not a hesitation of fear - it was to benifit him while he collected his thoughts. She knew he would have liked to answer while being swept up in romantic notions, but he had been asked a direct question and he knew she was expecting nothing short of brutal honesty in reply. "For the chance to have you in my life and at my side..." His cleft chin jutted out in his own stance of defiance, "I would be willing to endure the most brutal of brutals. Announce it during a show with no security." At that she had to laugh. He smiled with her. Romantic, straight forward and funny to boot. That's what she loved about Zac. He was the incarnation of complexity. And what a wonderfully puzzling man he was too. His smile faded. "So what does this mean for us?" He asked her. She bit her lip, unsure of the answer herself. "I don't know Zac, I really don't know where to go from here." He nodded in understanding as he squeezed her hand. "Where ever we go," he started. He looked directly in her eyes. "Can we head there together?" he finnished. Her smile stretched at that thought. "I would like that." She admitted. Over the next few hours and late into the night amends were made and rifts filled to repair their tattered relationship, while a cd softly spun in the stereo. It was agreed upon that it would be best to both of them if they played it smoothly and let things happen naturally. If forced, perhaps they would loose the momentum and wind up somewhere that they did not want to be. Yes distance, time constraints, and obligations needed to be manuvered like the obsticles they were, but every life has its challenges did they not? This was theirs. Several hours worth of tears, some sad and some joy evoked, streaked her face. She still held his attention for no matter her state - he found her inner beauty shone brightly, straight to his heart. She stifled a yawn sometime after the clock had struck four times on it's way to twelve. "Tired?" He asked. She nodded. "But I don't want to sleep now. I can sleep anytime, how often will I get the privilege of you in person!" She joked. "Oh yes," He quipped back. "I'm such a privilege, more like a pain in the ass!" He poked fun at himself. Together they laughed till she pulled herself into a stretch. Suddenly he stood up from the couch and turned to face her, hand held out. "Come with me, I know what you need to fix you up." She giggled at him and he blushed slightly. "That did't sound too good did it?" he laughed. "Nope." she replied. "But I knew you menant it in an innocent way..." She gave him an inquiring look and they both broke out in guffaws. Getting a hold of himself amidst the sleepy giddyness he pulled her up and tugged on her hand. "Come on, let's go wash you face so you'll feel better." She led the way down the hall and abruptly turned into a room as she snapped on the light. As his eyes adjusted they fell on the walls of her tiny bathroom lined in 'tiles' of a checkered pattern. They were really an array of black and white shots that captured the city that were spread out. He liked it, it was so very... Moirah. Spying a basket of facecloths on a nearby shelf, he grabbed one as he gestured to her. "Hop up." She complied and watched him test the water from the faucet with a pinky finger before he dampened the cloth. He turned off the tap and rung out the cloth as she stated. "You've done this before." He chuckled. "Being in a big family, stuff like that comes as second nature. I think I've seen more sticky faces than normally alloted a guy my age." She snickered. In the quiet that followed he stepped up between her parted knees. Sinking his fingers into her silky hair, gently he lay his hand on the back of her head out of habit and tilted it up to him. With wisper soft strokes he passed the soothing material over her flesh. Her knuckles grew white where she was gripping the counter fiercely in efforts not to reach out and touch him. She inwardly moaned, feeling the heat and power exuded by him. Having him so close nearly tore her mind asunder from reality. She fought with herself. They could be close. They could be in love. But she still couldn't touch him. Her morals prevented her from giving in. Legaly he was a child. In the eyes of the law their relationship would be wrong. Why could the law not see the magnificence of the man that stood before her? He was not a child and had not been one for quite some time now. Oh, if only... She smiled from the mixture of her inward dialogue's irony and the touch on her heated skin. His deep voice rang out and echoed off the hollow sounding walls with a zing. "Feel good?" That one simple statement held volumes of meanings. "Mmm..." Was the only reply she could get past her lips. She wanted him in the worst way, she opened her eyes as the cloth passed over her delicate throat. She watched his deep eyes as he in turn watched the fabric in his hand. Tension in her was coiled, ready, like a panther. She knew in mere moments they would share a kiss. Her revelation burst forth from her center and she had to set it free lest it eat away at her. "Zac!" She blurted, breaking the spell held between his eyes and her skin. He jumped slightly then grinned. "What?" he asked with merriment on his face. "Please... would you... I want..." She stammered trying to find what she wanted while the words were tumbling from her lips. He chuckled softly as he tossed the cloth into the sink and took a step back to calm himself. "Slow down, you're gonna hurt yourself trying to think so much all at once. Tell me what you want." He soothed as he could see the gears turning furiously in her pretty little head. "I... I want to sculpt you!" She finally got out. He looked at her in bewilderment. "Moirah, as much as I would love to stay with you forever and never have to be away from you, there by affording you that oppurtunity..." He teased her. "Oh stop it!" She fussed, hitting his arm as she jumped off the counter. He watched in amusement as she scurried out of the bathroom, flipping the light off out of habit and leaving him standing there in the dark. He snickered. She was racing around helter skelter gathering things in her arms and talking to herself. She was adorable he thought. Her worn thin t-shirt fluttered behind her and exposed her lower back where her flannel pj bottoms rode low on her hips from lack of 'snap' in her elastic. He could hear her tiny bare feet thump against the cold wooden floor as she founced off down another hallway out of sight. He shook his head and followed at a leisurely pace. He followed the sounds of movement. Something heavy was being scraped along the floor. He entered the doorway and was astonished to find a rather large studio, bigger than her apartment! He caught sight of her struggling to move a fainting couch from the corner. He quickly moved to help her. "Here, let me help, you're gonna ruin the floor." He offered. She blew her bangs out of her eyes in exasperation. "Thanks." And together they managed to get the ungodly sized monster to just the spot she wanted. "I keep telling Ramone I need casters on that behemoth." She joked. He raised his eyebrow in mock jealousy. "Ramone?" She sniggered. "Yes, Ramone. He's my assistant." His eyebrow arched a bit more and he approached her with mock menace. She pushed him away with a laugh. "He's gorgeous. Quite studly one could say. He does all my heavy lifting and such, as well as getting coffee and generally looking pretty." She teased. Again he advanced on her until she parted with the last words of her statement about 'Ramone.' "And queer as a three dollar bill." He stopped and laughed uproarously. Doubled over in mirth he attempted to gain his breath. From where he bent he tried to speak and it took him more than one attempt. "My God woman you're going to kill me!" She shook her head at his sorry state as he stood and wiped the moisture from his red eyes to match his face, grin wide and heaving chest. She pointed to him. "Don't mess with me. I always win!" He held his hands up in a peace keeping gesture. She smiled and informed him. "It's my Irish temper... won't let me back down." He nodded and followed her to a corner of the room while she collected various items in hand. "Remind me never to fight with you then." He quipped. "Duely noted." She nodded. And they settled into a comfortable quiet as she prepared to go to work. "Now outta my way pretty boy." She teased. "You sure you don't need any help?" He offered. "No, I'd rather do it myself if you don't mind... keeps everything straight in my head." Came her reply. He wondered what kind of a major undertaking she had in mind. But for her, he was willing to do most anything. Surely if he could sit and pose for some of the horses asses he has had to work with in the industry for the sake of his career, he could do what she wanted for the sake of his love. He settled onto a stool as she set up lights and laid out cameras. He leaned against the wall behind him with his arms lain over his chest as he watched her pull out sketchbooks, charcoal and such paraphenalia. His eyes widened as he eyed her carrying an easel with a fresh canvas to a stragetic location, then go back to retrieve a small table, and once again return to bring back a stack of small wooden boxes and an earthenware jug filled with brushes. He nearly lost it when she lugged yet another table over to the other side, then went back once more and struggled with a plastic bin that appeared heavy. He jumped up and took it from her. She indicated where she wanted it with a silent nod of her head. No wonder she had 'Ramone,' this was a lot more work than he thought an artist usually did. "Moirah?" He questioned. She stopped midstep as she approached a steamer trunk against the further wall. "Yeah?" She called. "Just a question," He clarified, and she nodded and returned to her task of sorting through the trunk on a mission to find something, he knew not what. "Um, do you normally do this much work?" He scratched his head feeling ever so much the dork. "I mean like everyday and stuff, for each job?" She laughed and he sighed with relief. "Never!" She said as she turned with a swath of material bunched up in her hand. "I just know that I only have my subject for a miniscule window of time, I must capture as much as possible now to fuel my work in the months to come." His eyes widened. "Months?" She smiled at him as she held the material up to his cheek and nodded to herself. Tossing the cloth onto the chez she headed to a comfy looking chair near the door that they came in. "Yes months silly. How long do you think it takes to carve a full size piece?" She querried jovially. He rubbed the back of his neck. Everything he was involved in when it came to art outside of his music took so much less time. "I... I didn't know you were going to do a life size piece." He stammered. She grabbed up a fringed shawl of ivory lace from the chair and headed back to the center of the room. She stood for a moment in quiet thought before she turned back to him. Her eyes held his and she spoke to his heart. "Yours is a body that begs to be carved in marble. Supple strength unmatched by any other force of nature. Anything less would be tragedy." Her soft words sent shivers over his body. The intensity was static and he knew how deeply they felt for each other, even now, it was bound to get only deeper as they clung to each other in the whirlwind that is life. His smile slipped over his face and lit his eyes. "Thank you." Was all he said and it was all that was needed. Their eyes held a powerful spell until the clock struck again for the half hour and shook her out of her reviere. She knew she had so much to do and so very litle time to do it in. She had to hurry. She smiled at him and he met her with a grin of his own. "Let's begin shall we?" She asked. He nodded. "Let's get this show on the road." He agreed. "Fine then. You may disrobe over there behind the screen, you will find a clean robe on the hook." She said matter of factly as she turned to arrange things in the center of the room. He stood and gaped at her. She'd begun to hang the back drop when she noticed he still hadn't moved. "Is something wrong Zac?" She asked concerned. "Uhm..." He started. "I um.." Her hand flew to her mouth to hide her grin. She saw the redness of embarrassment creep up from his neck. "I'm sorry Zac, I should have asked you. I'm just so used to working with models that I forget." He smiled at her lopsidedly. "Aww, that's ok. I just was sorta taken aback is all. If that's what you want, than that's what you shall get." He stated firmly as he steeled his resolve and headed to the place she had indicated earlier. "Zac." She stopped him with her one word. He turned. "You don't have to. Really. You must do whatever is comfortable for you." She said in all seriousness. He stood in the same spot and thought it over. "I trust you." He said simply and went behind the screen. She smiled to herself. He was such a giving man. She placed a few potted plants for asthetics on the outter perimeter of the lighted area and stood back. Her hand on her cocked hip she tapped her bare foot. "Hmm..." Then a light went off in her demeanor. "Zac?" "Yeah?" "You ok?" "Yeah." He said softer. She could hear the clunk of his large shoes as he kicked them off. "Whenever you're ready." She encouraged. "Ok." Came his meager reply. She felt he was still a bit nervous. "And when you come out... bring the small oriental rug rolled up ontop of the wardrobe with you please." She could hear his small laugh. That made her feel better that some of the tension had been released. Momentarily he came out. The robe was a bit snug, but it still managed to cover him decently. She smiled at him warmly as he strode towards her, rug rolled up and tucked under his arm. He pulled it out with a flourish and bowed as he handed it to her like a vintage bottle of wine lain over his wrist. "Madame." He joked. She curtsied with her t-shirt and took it from him. Together they laughed. That was better. She knew he would be able to make it through this now. He watched her as she made her final adjustments then she turned to him. She watched the nervousness return to him. Gently she lay a hand on his arm. "Zac. After you disrobe I want you to place this over yourself, and I will adjust it and you accordingly." She said, placing the material from earlier over his hand and watched the tension ease from his face. He was so grateful that he couldn't hide it. "I won't treat you any differently than any of my other models. I do this for most of them, at least the first time." He nodded trying to plaster a serious look on his face and failing miserably. "Don't freak out if I yell at you too. Remember, I'm just a tempermental artist who has been spoiled by too many benifactors." He noticed the trace of meloncholy in her eyes. He questioned her with his eyes and somehow, she knew the words he never spoke. With a sigh she said. "I sometimes wonder if I miss the hunger, the grit, the realizm. Sometimes I wonder if what I have left in me is passionate enough to be considered as art still." She shook herself and looked back to his eyes filled with trust and understanding. "I'm sorry." She began. He lay a hand on her shoulder and his other raised to place a finger over her soft moist lips. "Shh... you still hold the fire. I can see it. You do have what you need." He took his hand from her mouth and placed it tenderly on her chest over her heart. "In here." He said softly. She looked up into his eyes. All she could see was truth and trust. She had no choice but to believe him. That was something only another artist could see, really see, on the inside. She gave him a wavering smile as she grasped his hand at her chest. She brought the roughly calloused digits to her mouth and touched them with a gentle kiss. "Thank you. That means more to me than you could know." She confessed. He smiled down at her and drew in a deep breath. He so wanted to kiss her, but somehow, it just didn't seem right to do so now. Pulling himself up to his full height he broke the new silence. "What do you want me to do? Where do you want me?" She grinned at his straight forward no-nonsense approach. Trying to calm the still obvious nervousness in him she kept it very business like in her tone of voice. "Disrobe, sit and do what I said. I will tell you what to do from there." Then she turned around pretending to fiddle with her camera to give him the needed amount of time so he could hold onto his modesty. Quick as lightning he did as told. Inwardly he was grateful for her understanding and he knew she had turned around purely for his benifit. She cleared her throat and reached on the table for a remote. He watched her point it at the stereo as she punched in a few numbers, programing what she wanted. Soft tones of gut wrenching blues music filled the space of the studio and warmed the air with its hot licks. Immediately he recognized the familiar fingerwork of his friend and coleague Jonny Lang. He smiled to himself. She did have wonderful taste in music. They had often spoken about their tastes and he found she had the broadest range of musical tastes of anyone he had ever met. He thought maybe there wasn't a genre of music she didn't listen to. He loved that about her. Once she had told him that music was often an inspiration for her work. It was like a part of her soul. She lived her life with music in the background at all times. Then he remembered that when he came into the apartment at first there was no music playing. Wasn't she living then? Or maybe she felt just as dead as he had after she had run out of the resteraunt. It soothed him in an odd way to know that he was that much of a part of her life. He crossed his ankles still feeling somewhat 'exposed' and propped his chin in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. His hair hung in his face a bit. With a flick of his head he sent it flying over his left shoulder. He heard the click of the camera and looked up to be met with yet another click. He smiled. That was a familiar sound, but the situation was still a bit on the twilight zone side for him. Just seeing the intensity concentrated on her face was enough to put him at ease though. He relaxed and opened his mind and heart to let this woman, essentialy, have her way with him. That thought brought a mischievious grin to his full lips and she caught it quickly before it darted away and he regained his composure. With her initial preliminary shots captured she set into work in earnest. Quickly she strode toward him with purpose. He looked up at her barely a head above where he was sitting she was so short. "I need you to relax and follow instructions." She stated. He nodded like a puppy. "Uncross your ankles and recline naturaly." He did as told and she walked around him adjusting his position and the draped material. He was still nervous, but somehow just knowing it was for her, with her, it made it easier. For those moments he savored her touch on his skin while she moved him into position. She talked gently to him and he let her words wash over him like cascades of a small brook. Her prescence was so soothing, he felt every gripping ounce of tension drain away from him. His eyes closed and his body relaxed against the soft back of the chaise. Knees parted wide, feet flat, one hand propping up his head and the other one lay against his abdomen, he sighed. He hadn't even realized that she had stopped fussing over him until he heard the first few clicks of the camera. Lazily he opened his eyes and watched as her eyes lit with thoughts of her creativity to come in the following months that would stem from these few simple pictures. He could not stop the slow smile growing on his lips if he had wanted to. He was so happy that he could please her so much with such a simple act. Yes. He was very happy indeed. She walked around him and he tried to follow her with his eyes and not move. "It's ok Zac, you can move to any position you want and feel comfortable in. I only put you into the first position to put you at ease." She said to him. He smiled softly at her and sat up straight to stretch. Arching his back he drew his body up into a straight line. Curling his arms up, elbows out, fists tight at the sides of his head. Legs stretched out before him he even felt his toes curl in as he raised his hands high over his head, smoothing and pulling on all of the muscles of his body. Not once did she lay her camera aside. She tried to wait for each moment that a certain something said, 'do it, do it now, push the button and preserve this.' Her only delima was that with Zac, there seemed to be so many of those moments that it was difficult for her to keep up with them all. Never before had she had a model that pulled one in, drew one into the frame to study it with intensity, trying to figure out what it was that held ones attention so easily. He turned to face her, drawing one leg up onto the seat he turned his body and rested an arm over the back. "Tell me, how long did it take you to do your piece Ancient?" He asked. His body now casual and comfortable, she lay her camera on the floor at her feet. She stepped to the sketch pad propped up on the easel. Following her movements with his eyes he brought his fist up and lay his head gently against it, burring his hand in the curtain of gold that was his hair. As she took up charcoal and set in on paper in firey strokes her eyes flicked from him to her work. "A year and a half." She answered his question. "Wow!" he whispered more to himself. She smiled. "Did you like that piece?" She asked a question of her own. He looked up from the floor where he had been reliving a memory in his mind. His eyes met hers and he smiled. "Actually, it's my Mom's favorite piece of yours." She tried to stifle the giggle but let it loose anyway. "Your Mom? I think I like your Mom already. But, that's sorta a risque piece." She left the question unanswered, for her mind alone to ponder. He met her grin with one of his own. "Well she does have seven kids. I think she understood it." He grinned even wider as he remembered the rounded curves of a soft womans body, heavy with that of a life inside her womb. The pendulous breasts, ripe. The arched graceful neck beneath her head, thrown back in pleasure. The long graceful fingers twined with that of the man she sat astride. Oh yes, he remembered that piece. Remembered it well, and the stiffness in his pants when he viewed it alongside his brothers. It was a sensual piece, then again, he was only thirteen, he had a constant stiffie. But there was still no dening that the piece was expressive. Perhaps that was what his mother liked about it. The realism balanced the beauty. And having been a bronze cast, moved it to a level of power that rivaled mother earth itself. The manipulation of her elements that depicted the most natural state of man was certainly something that could make mother nature jealous. A year and a half. That was only a moment in the time it took the earth to look her ravishing self, yes, mother nature would indeed be jealous of that piece. As she was filling details into her sketch the stereo changed discs. As soon as the first strains flowed from the speakers her hips began to sway. He watched her as she worked. It was as if her body were anticipating every note, knew just how to move to it as soon as it hit the air. This was an album she must have listened to often. It was obvious in the way her mind was occupied and seemed oblivious to what her body did in response to the music. Smooth deep tones of Barry White coated the room in a sexual sheen. What the music was doing to her, was being done to his body from watching her. He shifted to relieve a bit of pressue from his hardening member. He didn't want her to see him getting aroused and he silently thanked her thoughtfulness for the flimsy material draped over his hips now. He didn't know how, but he managed it anyway, a graceful sweep of his hand as he lifted his other leg onto the seat held the cloth to his body. When he leaned his chest towards his propped up knee the fabric held an artful drape. She raised her head from her easel and her eyes became round. She had missed his movements but the resulting shift in position stirred her. His chin was resting on his kneecap and his hands were gracefully clinging to his ankle. She could hear his low voice, just above a whisper, singing along to the smooth tones coming from her stereo. He had a beautiful voice, even when it was whisper soft. Quietly she stepped from her sketch and downed the charcoal on the tray of her easel. She picked up her camera and waited... waited for that split second that could speak of infinity. She walked toward the clay bin. His head followed her and his voice never stopped the song nor raised in volume. When she sat on the bin, his sparkling eyes captured hers and his moist pink lips parted. His breath drew in to replenish the air that had been expelled. His chest expanded and he lay the side of his head against his knee that was pressed to his bicep and shoulder. Softly he he sang, never breaking the bond held between their eyes. Without her even willing it to, her finger snapped the picture. Instinctively her body had known that it was the right time to capture that soft emotion for imortality on film. The song ended, and with it so did the spell. She let loose the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Tenderly she sat her camera on the floor next to her. His eyes followed her hands as she rose from the bin and turned to open it, reached inside, and pulled out a cold grey lump. He watched her work it, kneeding and folding to soften it. Her fingers would dig deep into the surface, twist and withdraw only to sink underneath again. It was hypnotising. He watched her while she manipulated the clay, smoothing, shaping. It began to morph into a familiar outline of a human body. It curled and curved, dipped and bulged. He marveled at how her fingers would work together, pinching and gliding to form something from nothing. Before his very eyes a rough form took shape. She bent to the bin once more and retrived a handful of simple tools. Her dirty hands held him in awe. With a simple curve of her wrist, tool in hand, eyes peered out from the before lifeless lump. Thankfully his aroused state began to decrease as he watched her fingers fly over the slippery substance on her table. A simple dent with her thumbnail would reveal a mouth, pressing the pad of her pinky would carve out a hallow of throat. In the time of one cd to play fully, he got an instant education of what it was to sculpt in clay. Sure he had done it himself, many times in fact. But the things he pulled from Mackies modeling clay could not compare to the exquisite simplicity of what her hands crafted from earth. He nearly felt ashamed of his own meager talents when he watched her fuss over a detail here and there. Abruptly she huffed as she reached to the bin and yanked out a wet towel. Nonchallantly she threw it over the half finnished piece on her clay table and wipped her hands uncerimoniously on her tee shirt belly. His soft giggle caught her unaware. "What's so funny?" She demanded, grinning though she knew not for what. His mirth was contagious. "Nothing, just that you look like a six year old after making mud pies." He stated as he tilted his head indicating her state of grimeyness. She looked down at herself and laughed all the harder. "I do don't I?" She acknowledged. He only nodded his head as he lay back a bit to stretch out his stiff body that only ached slightly from being in the same position for too long a time. "You could have moved at any time Zac." She told him. He lay all the way back, his full height stretched out over the lush material of the feinting couch. "That's ok, I was so wrapped up in watching what you were doing I didn't even notice that I was sitting still." He offered as he drew his leg up, rubbig his knee against the soft crushed velvet distractedly. He raised his head slightly and pulled his hair out from under his shoulders making himself more comfortable as his other hand tugged at the cloth. She had silently retrieved her camera again while he was distracted with adjusting himself into comfort. He didn't even hear the soft clicks of the shutter as he rambled on. "I have never had the chance to watch someone sculpt before, not professionally I mean. Sure I've watched like my family do stuff, but it just isn't the same, ya know?" He asked as his eyes traveled to her face. It was then that he realized that she had been snapping pictures all along. He smiled. "I talk too much huh?" He asked sheepishly. She lowered her camera to reveal her sincerity. "On the contrary." She stated with an airy wave of her hand. "I like the casual air. I'm quite sick to death of the professional models who sit starkly still for eons. It's as if I'm capturing the essence of a statue in my statues... not very pleasant I assure you." She confessed. His grin grew bigger. He had pleased her, and in return it pleased him. It was the simple things between them that made him the happiest. His hand fell away from his hip and his knuckles grazed the floor, gently he placed his other forearm over his eyes in thought. He didn't even realize that the steady back and forth sway of his knee hitting the back of the seat was causing the cloth to slip away from his manhood a miniscule amount at a time. His cornsilk hair haloed his glowing features hidden in shadow. To her he looked like something placed upon the stretched canvases of Michael Angelo himself. Living, breathing, moving, classical beauty lain before her very eyes in reality, not in paint, it took her breath away more and more with every snap of the shutter. His voice was soft and almost meloncholy as he spoke from under his forearm. "You know, I've been to a lot of places and it always surprized me that I could somehow find something familiar, something that reminded me of home. I remember once when we were in Thailand and I was walking into this big building for an executive record label meeting. I was dreading the whole ordeal really. Then I noticed it. Right in the center of the lobby. It caught my eye as I was taking off my sunglasses. One of your fountains. I knew right away it was one of yours. We had been studying contemporary artists with Mom in just the previous month. It reminded me of the mobile that you did for that that park in Oregon. I know they are really polar in perception, but it was the feeling I got when I watched the movement. It made me, I don't know, not quite so homesick." He peeked out from under his arm to find her and gauge her reaction. When he didn't see her he took his arm away from his face and pulled himself up by the back of the chaise, propping himself on one elbow. She was standing at the back of the chaise, camera in hand, but forgotten. Her eyes were brimming with tears unshed. She looked angelic. This was the second time he had witnessed her tears of joy over her work. He didn't know how she could be even more breathtakingly beautiful than before, but she was. He sat up on his knees and pressed his belly to the back of the chaise as he reached for her. Silently she slid her tiny hand into his and gripped it tightly. He pulled her towards him and wrapped her in a loving embrace. Her face nestled into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Their hands broke apart and naturally drifted and settled on eachothers bodies. She pushed herself away from him, hands against his tight chest, her eyes searched his and again, she could find nothing but real pure truth. How could this man do that to her so simply? He reluctantly took one arm from around her waist and brought his thick fingers to her cheeks. He wiped away her tears and warmed her soul with his smile. He did understand. And he didn't need to say a word to let her know how much he did either. She squeezed him around the neck once more briefly before he let her go. She quietly walked away from him to retrieve another camera. Gripping the back of the seat he tried to get a hold of himself. He felt like jello inside and he didn't know if he enjoyed the feeling or not. He slumped to the side, letting his body slide against the soft material. Like a kid, he rubbed his nose against the velvety cloth of the back of the seat, loving the way it tickled him. He propped his head up on his curled arm. A light touch of his figertips of his other hand, he traced the floral pattern that was woven into the fabric. She stelthly walked toward him, capturing his subtle nuances click after click. Zooming in on his tape wrapped fingers gliding over the furniture. Tilting her angle to capture the shine of gold burried in his mane. Taking a step to the side and squatting for a sumptious view down his muscular back and revealed buttocks. Stretching down even further to capture the bend of the back of his knee as it met the curve of the silky material flowing down one thy. Kneeling to catch a slight smile in his soft profile. He turned to her and offered a more genuine smile. His hand reaching up to graze her cheek. Still, she did not stop the constant click click click of the shutter. "Moirah." He said simply. Such love he spoke in that one word. Her hands fell away from her face and rested beside him, gripping her camera in fear of reaching out to touch him. His fingers gently slid up her jawline, she leaned into his tender touch as her eyelids drifted closed. His other hand pressed against her hands tightly wrapped around her camera. Every inch of her tingled as his hand slipped up into her hair and meshed his fingers with the soft strands. With a gentle tug he pulled her into him. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin. She could smell his enticing scent. Her eyes begged to fly open when she felt his moist lips grant her forehead a whisper light kiss. She fought with herself to remain calm and keep her eyes closed as she felt him pull away. When she did open her eyes, she was met with an otherworldly sight. An easy genuine and warm smile graced his beautiful face. Such a simple act had stirred up a myriad of emotion within her. Unwillingly she let loose a satisfied sigh. Again he leaned back into the comfort of the feinting couch. His long hair spilled over his shoulders and partly down his chest. His warm eyes held a mysterious mirth and imense inquizitiveness. His sunkissed skin glowed in the warm studio lights. She watched, mesmerized as his tongue slowly slid out to moisten his pouted lips, gently curled up at the corners. His hand glided over his broad chest and came to rest where his hip met his abdomen. The other one he tucked up under his head as he rest his elbow against the back of the chaise and turned his head slighly into the comfortable cook it made there. The drapped cloth concealing his semi erect member was nearly forgotten as it swept over his intimate curves, barely hiding his modesty and disappearing between his long legs. She cast her eyes over his muscular legs, one knee was bent the foot propping up the oposite leg in a slightly raised position. His beauty was overwhelming. She shivered as she rose to her feet. Walking backwards she awaited that pivotal moment. The crucial glimpse of him that would reveal volumes on film. He drew in a deep breath and snuggled his nose closer to his bicep. Her finger raced to the button. Only then did she release her breath, pleased with her patience. She lay her camera aside momentarily. Without making too much noise, she removed her sketch easel and replaced it with that which held her newly stretched and primed canvas. Crisp, stark, waiting to fill and be fulfilled. Gently she pulled the little table up beside her and took up her pallet. Quietly she sifted through the wooden boxes for the perfect colors to capture his own perfection. Sorting through the earthenware jug she carefully chose her instruments, only the finest of brushes were capable of gracing this special canvas. Together, they both quietly hummed along with the sweeping strains of Led Zeppelin as she mixed her paints. From the first stroke on the material, she knew this would be her masterpiece in this medium. Anything short of perfection would be a sacrelige against his very being. With furious passion her strokes carresed the canvas. Her intimate touches of fingers to wet paint to add the perfection not reached by any brush left her breathless with thrills. She watched the forms and shapes morph and swirl before her. Even she was amazed as she watched this piece take on movement and begin to breathe with a life of its own. It was startling the clarity of her perception that transfered to the rough surface through the slick paint. She felt as if someone else guided her hands and she was but a vessel to hold the energy that flowed in the blending colors and shapes. Nothing had ever flowed from her soul so easily before. So pure in form and detail. So clean in line and proportion. She worked a feverish pace, taking small note in the back of her mind that he had drifted off to sleep. Her mantra drowned out the ethereal voice of Pavarotti. Whispered just under her breath. 'Please don't wake. Please don't wake. Please don't wake.' Again and again her brushes dipped into the luxuiously thick oil paints and spread over her canvas of its own volition. This piece was painting itself. As she was curving the crimson around his elbow she noticed the lightening sky out the window. She hurried even faster, wanting to capture as much of him as she could before he had to be wrenched away from her. The soft bristles carressed the cerulean as she glided it between his legs, avoiding the temptation of painting what she now saw before her instead of what was previously there, for now, his member was fully erect, and freed of its confines of material. Her eyes glazed over as she watched him. Still she pressed on, doing her best to ignore the wanton lust that burned her very skin and made her ache. He stirred in his slumber and stole her attention away from the tiny black detailed lines she was fretting over. She softly groaned as she witnessed a most beautiful sight. He began to turn away from her and face the back of the feinting couch, but not before she caught a glimpse of his hand wrapping around his huge cock, his lips parted in a silent moan of delight. A fleeting moment to view his intimate pleasure, and it left her breathless. He now lay with his back fully to her view, stretched out like a languidly dozing cat sunning itself. Her work abruptly finnished for the time she shuddered as she regained control of her body. Placing her peg frame over the canvas she threw an old tarp over her masterpiece pending. She looked around her small studio and sighed. She had done so much in such a short time, it fastenated her to wonder what she could accomplish if she had this subject for an extended period of time. Could she handle being in the presence of that much beauty for so long a time? She sure as hell would try damnit. She stretched as she yawned, realizing that she hadn't slept, now her body was screaming out for rest. She really hated to do it, but she had to. The cd changed as she stood wipping her hands on a soft flannel rag. Jonny Lang's rough velvet voice and blistering fingerwork floated over the room and settled into the creveses of her mind. She strode over to awaken the mirage laid out in the middle of her studio. She knelt down at his side, leaning closely to him. Her senses intoxicated by his scent and energy of his body being so close to her. She lay a hand on his firm bicep and shook lightly. "Zac..." She spoke, just above a whisper. "Mmm..." Was his reply. She smiled and leaned to his ear, she could feel her own breath boucning back into her face off his hot flesh. "Zac, wake up." She stated with slight bemusement. "Uhhnnn..." He retorted. She pressed her body into his back and blew across his cheek. "Ohhh..." Came his soft moan. Her eyes traveled to the tiny movement of his arm, down to his hand, and found it still wrapped around his stiff member. She had all she could do not to reach down and help him with his task. Her chest heaving and her pert nipples being stimulated even more from the heavy breathing moving their bodies, she stifled her own moan. She swallowed hard. "Zac. You need to get up and go back to the hotel." She said a bit more firmly than she thought she could. He stirred and turned, revealing the full length of his glorious shaft. Her eyes grew heavy with lust and her mouth watered to taste him. Her fingers itched with want of his warmth, she ached for him deep within. "Oh lord Zac, the things you do to me." She said aloud to herself. In his sleep he gently stroked his cock. "Mmmm... Moirah!" He sighed. Her blood ran lava hot through her veins. He was dreaming about her! Her sanity collapsed. Her fingers crept inside her flannel pj bottoms as she sank to the floor, feet flat and knees parted. She watched him as his thumb teased his cockhead, swirling the sticky precum over the tip. Her own fingers sank into her slick folds and she bit her lip in pleasured pain. His pace quickened and she watched transfixed as his balls began to tighten. Her fingers were working her clit without mercy, occasionally dipping into her sopping hole. She could feel it comming onto her like a freight train wreck in slow motion. He started to growl from deep within his chest. A primal sound that befitted his now lightning speed of his hand on his cock. Her head fell back in delight from the heat between her legs. She was so close she could almost taste it on her tongue. "Uh uh uh... fuck!" He groaned. Her orgasm flooded each of her senses as she watched in disbelief, four thick gobs of creamy cum arched from his slit and landed on his hand, thy, and balls. She thought for sure her eyes would roll up into the back of her head at the intensity that gripped her wave after wave. When her breathing slowed and she could no longer feel the pin pricks of heightened pleasure on her skin, she withdrew her hand. She stood on shakey legs, washed her hands at the sink and plopped down into the overstuffed chair next to the door. After that, how could she possibly turn him away. She curled up and drifted off to satiated sleep herself. return unto me take a flying leap *On My Knees* spit or swallow? email me!