A/N: Freaking nocturnal Muse. No clue where this sucker came from – I was just…writing it all of a sudden. My stories do like imitating Athena's birth. Anyway, enjoy! (I do not own Converse or Sperrys or any other possibly trademarked items, although Converse are the bomb.)
He was hurrying across the top of the parking complex toward his car when he saw her, a flash of blond hair and graceful shoulders. She was sitting on the wall, feet dangling a hundred feet above ground. The duffel bag fell from his hand, landing with a crunch on a pile of dead leaves. "Oh God. Kelly?"
She startled and turned just enough to see him before pretending she hadn't looked. "Just forget you saw me here, Martin."
He forgot about getting home for Thanksgiving, the bustle of relatives filling the double staircase in the foyer for a family picture, where he dropped his back. He took four strides toward her. "What the hell are you-"
Her back remained ramrod straight. "What are you doing out here? It's freezing."
He wanted to reach forward and take her by the shoulders and pull her off the edge. He stayed a few steps back, though. It was too risky. "Yeah, no effing duh-" She was wearing grey slacks and black blouse. He could see the goosebumps on her neck, pale and bare.
"Leave it, Martin. Just go."
"Damn, just get down from there, don't do this, Kell, you've got so much to live for-"
"Like what? Like going home to a masoleum? Or trudging through a degree I hate because my father wants me to be a lawyer like him? Or putting up with the hell-" The edge of her voice cracked.
"There's your sister-"
"She's a backstabbing fiend. Good genetics."
"Sharon-"
"Thinks I'll be her golden ticket to wealth."
The name tasted nasty, because he thought the guy was a jerk, but he had to try. "There's Rick-"
Her face turned a shade paler, eyes darkening to cobalt. "Rick? You don't know the first thing about Rick."
His voice dropped. "Kells. Kelly, what'd he do?"
A bitter little laugh. "Nothing I didn't ask for, apparently."
"Don't say that! I don't know what the hell's going on there but don't even try to defend him."
Some of the iron left her voice. "What are you even doing out here, Martin? You barely know me."
He tucked his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. "Doesn't mean I don't care."
Her shoulders snapped back to martial position. "Yeah, I've heard that one before."
"You have no idea," he said.
She turned her head a half-inch. "What?"
"I know your favorite color is really green, even though you don't say so because people make fun of you with that and your name."
"Kelly green," she said, with an eye roll.
"Yeah." He took a step closer. "I know you liked The Aeneid better than The Odyssey because Odysseus was a jerk, you have a pair of red high heels you never wear because Sharon said they looked trampy, which is a shame, they're perfect, and you like Canadian bacon and pineapple on your pizza. You've got ridiculous ways with math I can only dream of, you make awesome puns no one ever catches, and you think the whole oh-my-god-I-ate-a-carb-I-must-run-a-marathon diet stuff is bull."
"What the crap have you been doing, stalking me?"
"I have a photographic memory, remember? It's why I remember what you were wearing at that sorority dance a few weeks back."
"It was a hot pink gown, kind of hard not to remember, genius."
"No, not that." He notched down the vehemence in his tone. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you were gorgeous. But I remember afterward. I think you and Monica must have been going to get coffee and study. You had your hair down and you were wearing painted-splattered jeans and a white t-shirt, and you were barefoot...I don't know. It was dark and one of the lights framed you and you looked free. And I've give about anything to see you like that again."
"I didn't-" her voice pitched up. "Martin, what are you doing?"
He jumped onto the ledge and spun so he sat on the edge, cream-colored Converse dangling next to her Sperrys. "This is a pretty nice spot. I mean, it is a long way down, but I never thought this parking garage had such a good skyline view." He slapped his hand against the flat concrete. "Not a very comfortable seat, though. They should install cushioning."
Her left hand twitched toward his arm. "Martin, you might fall-"
He looked at her over the top of his glasses, black-rimmed, rectangular. "I already did. Wasn't really planning on ever telling you, but life's a bitch, and here we are."
They looked at each other for a long time, as the sun disappeared entirely and the streetlights kicked on. She looked away, downwards. "I'm pregnant. Didn't know that, did you?"
"No," he said.
"And that doesn't change your mind at all?" Her voice was brittle as the leaves falling to the ground in the breeze.
He looked across to the student union building, red-brick façade dull in the dark. "My mother had me her senior year of college. Her boyfriend at the time didn't understand the concept of 'no' being an acceptable answer either."
Her face was Sphinx-like. "My dad's going to kill me."
"If he had any sense of decency, he'd kill Rick." If he didn't get to him first.
"Oh, no, it'll be my fault. Everything is."
"Well, screw what he thinks."
The wind kicked up, sending a swirl of leaves across the road below.
"It's pretty cold up here," she said.
"Yeah, curse November for being cold." Silence again, but companionable. "Want my jacket?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."
He shrugged out of it, carefully, and set it over her shoulders. She pulled it around her like a blanket.
"Man," he said. "I could go for some hot chocolate right about now."
"Me too," she said.
"Dark chocolate with hardcore marshmallows you can sink your teeth into. Not that milk-chocolate-with-little-white-pellets Swiss Miss garbage."
"Best kind."
He swiveled around, jumping down to the cement. "Let me give you a hand down."
She took his hand. Her feet hit the ground, and her knees gave. He caught her with an arm around her waist. "Easy, there. Get the circulation back."
She looked up at him. "Thanks, Martin."
The sides of his mouth quirked up, and he kissed her forehead. "Anything for you, Kells."