Elliot sat on the edge of the couch, her gaze wandering aimlessly over the office. The sound of footsteps on the stairs brought her attention to the door. The lock clicked and the door swung open.

"Hey," she said, as Beck stepped inside.

He paused halfway inside.

"You're waiting for me. Should I take this as a bad sign and make a dash for the exit?"

Elliot laughed and Beck instantly smiled in response.

"No, there is no need for mad dashes," she said. "At least not today. Who knows what tomorrow holds?"

Beck chuckled and stepped inside, closing the door. When Elliot didn't move from her perch, he slid his hands into his pockets and looked at her.

"Why are you waiting? Or should I try twenty questions? I'm pretty good at that and I might get the right answer."

Elliot smiled then her expression shifted to a look of intrigue.

"You told Grant we were working together," she said.

"Oh, yeah. I did," he said.

She laughed, the sound sending a light into her eyes.

"You say that like you haven't been hiding the fact from your brother since the beginning. What changed?"

Beck shifted and dropped his gaze, one hand raising to rub the back of his neck.

"What changed was his reaction," he said, a note of embarrassment hidden in his voice.

"Which was...?

He looked back up at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, while a look of disbelief lingered in his blue eyes.

"He was surprised and...um...impressed."

Elliot blinked rapidly, staring at him.

"You're serious?" she said.

Beck gave a low, self-mocking chuckle.

"I am."

She opened and closed her mouth trying to find words that voiced her surprise.

"How...I mean he...why...you can't be...really he...Ducks..."

Beck burst out laughing.

"Ducks?" he asked.

Elliot shrugged, giving him a baffled grin.

"I couldn't think of what to say."

"That is a first."

He stepped around her and lay his satchel on the couch. Elliot settled herself on one end, pulling her legs beneath her, while Beck sank into his normal spot.

"How did this even happen? I thought he was supposed to frown upon your endeavors to be a writer and mock you for your ambitions?"

Beck leaned forward over his knees, his hands clasped. For a second he stared at the ground, his face a mask of bewilderment and amusement. He looked at her.

"I thought so too," he said. "For a second I regretted saying that we worked together. But the damage was already done. I figured I had to tell him. And I did." Beck chuckled and shook his head. "When I told him I was working for you and told him who you were and your accolades, he was impressed." He shrugged. "I guess it wasn't as big a deal as I thought it would be."

She reached out and playfully slapped his arm.

"Look at you, being all proud to write this book now," she said.

"Oh no," he said, his voice serious, but a teasing glint in his eyes. "I'm still incredibly embarrassed and don't know if I will be able to live it down. My literary career is basically over."

Scowling, Elliot leaned forward and started beating his arm with her fists. He laughed out and shied away, before he caught her wrists in his hands.

"Joking," he said.

She stilled and he released her. "Not funny."

He cracked a taunting smile. "But it really was."

Before Elliot could retort, he held up a finger. He opened his satchel and pulled out a partially mashed bag.

"A peace offering," he said.

He held out the bag. Still scowling, Elliot took it and opened it. From inside floated the warm smell of cinnamon and raisins. She pulled out a muffin and looked up at Beck.

"Ashley, my mother's nurse, baked yesterday. Do you accept?" he asked.

"It's a homemade muffin, of course I accept," she said. "Although that still doesn't mean I like you."

"Have you ever?"

"True."

They shared a smile and she handed the bag over to him.

**************

"Hmmm," Elliot said, her chin resting in her hand.

The computer sat on her crossed legs before her, the screen filled with descriptions and dialogue. Crumbs from the eaten muffins dusted the cushions and empty mugs lay on the table, their rims stained from the dark coffee. Beck briefly glanced up at her, then back at his own screen.

"Is there a meaning behind the 'hmmm'?" he asked. "Or are you simply contemplating the end of the world again?"

She raised her head, looking at him.

"You know it freaks me out when you read my mind."

Beck smiled, but didn't look up, his fingers dancing over the keyboards.

"I'll try to restrain myself from doing it again," he said.

"Thank you."

She looked back at her screen.

"I have a question."

"Only one? I highly doubt that."

"For the time being it's only one."

"Alright let's have it."

She looked up at him, her head cocked and expression thoughtful.

"Can a sound jig?" she asked.

Beck stopped typing and looked up at her, his confusion plainly written on his face.

"What?"

"Can a sound jig?"

Beck shook his head. "Still makes no sense."

Elliot shifted and leaned forward, her hands starting to talk before she did.

"Well, you know how a sound can dance around?" Beck nodded, crossing his arms. "Well, can a sound jig?"

His mouth twitched as it struggled against a smile.

"No," he said.

"But it can waltz, right?" Elliot said. "What about tango?" She waved her hand wide as she looked off. "The sound tangoed through the room."

"That works, kind of, but a sound still can't jig."

She brought her attention back to Beck, a disappointed frown forming.

"Poor sound. It will never know the enjoyment of a good jig."

Beck held his chin, looking at her with a ponderous face.

"You know, I should respond, but I'm really not that shocked anymore that you would put feelings to sound. And the fact that you know what a good jig is like."

Elliot pushed her large glasses up her nose and looked at him in mock surprise.

"Beckett Daniels! Are you telling me you have never had the experience of a truly good jig?"

"What response will relinquish me from this conversation?"

"The response, 'I quit being your co-writer'," she said.

Beck dropped his head in mock annoyance.

"Fine. No, I have never experienced a truly, good jig," he said slowly, as if worried what the consequence of that response would be.

Elliot shrugged.

"Sucks for you. You really haven't lived," she said, looking back at her computer.

He stared her in disbelief, with a hint of caution in his eyes. After a moment of silence, she glanced back up, puzzled.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I don't know. I was expecting more. You possibly dragging me off the couch to do a jig or something."

She laughed.

"Please," she said. "To experience a really good jig it has to be two in the morning. You're half dead from exhaustion then the final song comes on and you find a renewed energy to dance. That is the only way it can happen."

Beck pointed to the ground with his finger.

"You are not going to make me do a jig right now? Right here?"

"No, why waste a perfectly good jig when it's not the right time?"

He stared at her, a smile edging onto his face, his gaze mystified.

"Sometimes you completely baffle me, Elliot McKenzie."

She looked at him surprised and confused.

"Only sometimes?" she said. "Wow, I have not been on my game lately."

He laughed and she leaned back, sitting in the sound.

The hours ticked by as the sound of typing ebbed and flowed. The sun plotted its way across the sky, the shadows of buildings rotating and lengthening under its gaze.

Elliot stretched, her stream of words coming to a stand-still. As she stared at her computer, an outlandish description popped into her head. A bubble of laughter rose in her throat at the oddities of her brain. She covered her mouth with her hand and swallowed the laugh, trying to keep signs of her amusement away. When she could manage a straight face and was convinced Beck was unaware of anything, she cleared her throat.

"Beck, I want your opinion on this bit of description." She frowned slightly. "I'm not sure it works."

He lifted his head and leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms out then resting his laced fingers behind his head.

"Alright, let's hear it."

She cleared her throat again, trying to suppress a new surge of laughter, the image of Beck's reaction already clear in her mind.

"Okay, the description is, 'he had a toned body, as in you could do twelve loads of laundry on his washboard abs'."

She glanced up at Beck. He didn't move, his face completely frozen with shock. She burst out laughing and fell onto the couch, the computer sliding onto the cushions. He didn't move, his face still petrified with alarm. Elliot looked out him. At the sight of his wide eyes and surprise, her laughter was renewed.

"Your face is priceless!" she gasped, her stomach cramping.

He blinked and dropped his hands, shifting uncomfortably.

"Umm...El...that description was..."

She pushed herself up and waved her hand, her laughter stealing away her words once more.

"That wasn't real," she said, still shaking slightly as the last of the laughter left her.

The look of utter relief that washed over his face as he dropped his head into his hands, sent her off again.

"Thank God," he said. "I thought I was going to have to quit."

The last bubble of laughter escaped her lips.

"What were you planning to say when you thought it was real?"

He looked up at her with an embarrassed smile.

"I honestly don't know. I think my brain was still in shock. That was awful."

"I don't know..." she said, tapping her chin and looking off. "I think it has potential. A new twist on an old way of describing abs."

He stood, leaned over and grabbed her computer. He closed it and set it on the desk.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"We're leaving the office. Now," he said. "Confinement has not done great things for your creativity and I'm not sure I can stomach what you have coming next."

She laughed, but didn't protest as he cleaned up the remnants of their lunch. They left the office and made for the cafe, their walk slow, comfortable with each other and the topics of conversation.

The tables outside the cafe were empty, although the day permitted outdoor seating without the threat of melting. Beck was just reaching for the door, when Elliot placed a hand on his arm. He looked back at her.

"I need you to do me a favor," she said.

He eyed her warily. "Why do I get the feeling at the end of this is a dead body, two fake passports and changed identities?"

"Because you are overly dramatic."

He laughed and nodded in mock acceptance.

"Yes, I'm the dramatic one in this relationship," he said.

She gave him a teasing smile. "Relationship?"

"Partnership."

"You said relationship though."

"There are a lot of different types of relationships. Many that have non-romantic implications."

She shrugged. "Relationship worked for me. Now where were we?"

"Cuba."

"Right, can you just go in there and see if Cece and Milo are together? If they are, can you get coffee and bring it back out here?"

He raised one curious eyebrow. Elliot rolled her eyes.

"They have been annoying since Cece has completely swung over to girlfriend mode. It's nauseating."

Beck chuckled and pulled the door open. "Your wish is my command."

"Thank you!"

He slipped inside and she moved to one of the tables. The sun's descent sent long dark shadows across the road and turned the sky a darker blue. Off in the distance, a bank of clouds was slowly approaching the city.

Elliot turned back to the cafe when the door opened and Beck emerged, holding two cups.

"Were they being cute and whatnot?" she asked.

"Yes, but I have a very strong stomach and was able to bear it for a couple minutes."

He set her coffee cup before her and settled into the seat next to her.

"Thank you," she said, picking it up and taking a sip.

He nodded and leaned back in his chair, one leg resting on his knee. For a long stretch of time they watched as the world wandered by, and listened to the odd, disjointed pieces of conversation.

Elliot looked back at him. Feeling her gaze, he turned his head to meet it.

"What is your opinion on social media and how it dictates the personalities in our society?" she asked.

He stared at her in mild surprise, his lips curling.

"What brought on this line of conversation?"

"Well," she said, "I thought about talking about the taste of my coffee or how mild the summer has been just to annoy you, but even talking about such a dull subject takes too much work."

He sipped his coffee and glanced away from her.

"And I wouldn't have answered you even if you did try to talk about that."

"You're learning then."

He leaned forward on the table, looking at her.

"You would think that but still you completely puzzle me."

She tapped his nose and smirked.

"And that is how it should be." She rested back in the metal chair. "Besides, I'm one puzzle that can't be solved."

"Why is that?"

"I know for a fact some pieces are missing and some pieces are from a completely different box, so it would never make sense."

Beck laughed, his gaze still concentrated on her. She smiled, liking the way his blue eyes lit up. They both shifted their attention when the cafe door open and a stream of angry words tumbled out, followed by Cece then Milo.

"Don't walk away from me," Milo said. "We can work this out."

Cece spun on him waving her hands.

"No, we can't," she said. "And I'm not the one who walked away last time."

Beck looked back at Elliot, his face written in confusion. She didn't meet his gaze, her forehead creased in a scowl of annoyance.

"That was a mistake," Milo said, his voice breaking. "But I'm here now."

"How can I trust that? How can I trust you?" Cece said. "You've broken my heart once before. Who says you won't do it again?"

"I've changed," he said.

"Have you?"

Elliot groaned, her frown deepening. Beck glanced back at her.

"I hate them," she muttered. "I really, truly hate them, the dramatic idiots."

Milo took a step forward, his face a mask of sincerity while amusement danced in his eyes.

"Let me prove to you that I've changed," he said. "Give me one more chance. I can't live without you."

Cece put a hand on his chest, holding him in place, her lips shaking. Whether from laughter or fake tears, Elliot could not tell, because she had buried her head in her arms, moaning. Beck stared at them, concentrating as if he were figuring out the answer to a riddle.

"I don't know if I can do this again," Cece said.

Milo wrapped his hands around the hand she had against his chest.

"One chance," he said. "That's all I'm asking for."

Elliot started banging her head against her arms as Milo and Cece took a step towards each other. Beck leaned back towards Elliot, his eyes still glued on the scene before him.

"Is it just me or does all of this sound familiar?" he said.

Elliot raised her head and glowered at Milo and Cece.

"Of course it does," she said. "It's from my book."

Beck burst out laughing, as Milo took another step towards Cece.

"Daniel," Cece said. "I want to but I'm scared."

"One chance," Milo said. "Amber, just give me one chance."

Cece looked down dramatically, then up at him. He cupped her face and kissed her.

"I hate them so much right now," Elliot said.

Milo and Cece broke apart and turned to their table. Waving their hands out to the side, they bowed.

"No, I'm not clapping," Elliot yelled. "I clapped last time. Oh...and I hate you!"

They laughed and walked over to the table, pulling out seats and sitting down.

"Why do you hate us?" Milo asked. "I thought that was a splendid portrayal of Daniel and Amber's make up scene from A Spark of Hope." He looked at Cece. "Don't you?"

She nodded. "I thought so too."

Elliot continued to glare at them. "I wrote that when I was sixteen. Will you please stop doing this to me? It's annoying."

Cece looked at Milo, her arms crossed.

"Will we stop doing this?" she asked.

He smirked and sent her a wink. "Never."

Elliot shook her head and covered her face with her hands.

"I wish you were dead," she said. She looked at Beck. "I change my favor and this one does end up how you thought it would."

He chuckled and looked at Cece and Milo.

"How long did it take for you to memorize all of that?" he asked.

Milo shrugged. "An hour. Cece couldn't write and the house had already been repainted. This was the next best thing."

Cece slapped the table with her hands.

"Changing the subject, before Elliot can reiterate how much she despises us and wishes us dead, it's game night tonight."

"No, it's not," Elliot said.

Cece raised a finger, frowned and then waved her hand.

"Okay, it's not but we are making it, because Milo has discovered - "

"The lost city of Atlantis!" Elliot shot out.

"A phantom toll booth in his room," Beck added.

Elliot looked over at him and smiled.

"Nice one. Good book too," she said.

"It was my favorite as a kid," Beck said.

Cece snapped her fingers in between them. "Are you two done bonding and flirting and what not? Because I actually was going to say something."

They both looked at her, shifting in their seats from embarrassment. Beck leaned back and Elliot rubbed her hand along her neck, turning her head away from him.

"What was is it that Milo discovered," she said, "if it's not a mythical city or magical nonsensical world?"

"A new way to play Memory!" she said.

Elliot gave her a mocking look. "Because the straightforward way was too annoying."

"Exactly!" she said.

"What does this version entail?"

Milo leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Basically, if you can argue that the two cards you flipped over are connected, even if they aren't, under three seconds, then you get the match."

Elliot nodded in approval. "Sounds good to me."

Cece stood up. "Great. We are going to go to the store to get food supplies and will see you both back at the house."

Beck looked up at her. "I'm invited then."

Elliot looked at him and laughed. "Of course, why wouldn't you be?"

Beck shrugged. "I didn't know if Cece was just instilling the excitement of game night into me only to tell me I wasn't invited."

Cece frowned in mock hurt, but Milo slipped his hand into hers, distracting her from retorting. He pulled her away.