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              The silent moment seemed frozen between the two men as they watched each other, standing over Trevor's grave.
              Trevor looked at the man, motionless.
              The man looked at Trevor.
              And then with a jolt he began to run.
              Trevor watched in horror as the man sped away. "Wait! You don't--"
              The man was drawing further away, stumbling and frantic as he fled through the tombstones, screaming incoherently in a high pitched, delirious panic.
              Trevor started chasing after him, calling out. "Hey you can't tell anyone about--"
              The man was still pulling further away. Trevor cursed and rushed faster after him, the world seeming to bouncy and blur in his eyes as he started to come in close behind. Finally he dove forward towards the sight of the man's moving back before him, tackling him to the ground and feeling a painful thud in his stomach.
              "Ooh, that's gonna hurt..." Trevor moaned in self pity.
              Underneath him the man was kicking, clawing and squirming, putting up a fight as Trevor held him down on the icy grass.
              "Get... get off me you damn ghost! " The man paused, considering the situation. "Wait... Ghosts can't tackle people, can they?"
              Trevor sighed, holding him down. "Not a ghost, man."
              "Yeah." Realization started to dawn across the drunken man's face. "Yeah. You're a lot heavier. And you're kinda crushing me."
              "Sorry. And... hey!" Trevor sounded offended as he got off him.
              "Just saying." The man shrugged as he brushed himself off and rose to his feet unsteadily. "Seems maybe you've put on a few pounds."
              "Well, I've been stuck inside."
              "Hmm." The man nodded. "A coffin?"
              "My house."
              "Oh. And... why aren't you dead?
              "Well..." Trevor seemed embarrassed, "...haven't really gotten around to it, yet. Not on my 'to do' list. I'm a god. Immortal."
              "Oh good," the man walked slowly forward. "Cause of the two of us, for awhile there I thought I was the crazy one."
              Continuing, he decided to rest against a tombstone as Trevor followed at his side.
              Suddenly the man paused, a sober realization dawning on his face. "Wait... you REALLY aren't dead."
              Trevor nodded impatiently. "Really, really not. Thought we covered that. Look, I need you not tell anyone about me being ali--"
              Starting to look away, Trevor was unexpectedly punched hard across the chin by the man without any warning, knocked back off his feet and onto the grass, the seething figure of the man stepping forward and looming over him, yelling out.
              "Do you know the hell you've put me through?!"
              Shaking his head to clear it, Trevor looked up, considering him for several seconds as he rubbed his throbbing chin.
              "Fair enough," he finally said. "Feel like getting some coffee?"
              Surprised, the man blinked, not expecting that at all. After a long moment of confusion, he finally reached down, offering his hand and helping Trevor to his feet.
              Trevor smiled at him, and the two of them started to walk away through the field of tombstones, the cemetery dark all around.
              "Hi. I'm Cupid," Trevor whispered softly.
              The man looked over. "Rick."
              "Come on, Rick. It's freezing out here."


              The well lit interior of the downtown diner was bright against the darkness of the busy Chicago street seen through the windows looking outside. Inside people moved back and forth, ordering, eating, utensils clicking on flatware. Seated inconspicuously at one of the tables was Trevor and the man he had found, the two of them over two cups of coffee and trying to warm up. Trevor watched Rick with interest as the disheveled man continued to tell his story, explaining why he had been at Trevor's grave in the middle of the night.
              "So I was lost, direction less... " Rick looked over at Trevor, an empty sadness in his eyes. "You may have been the one who jumped, Trevor. But I'm the one who fell. When me and the other officers cornered you on that cliff, I was on point. I was the one who was trained to talk to jumpers. So when you went over the edge... I took it pretty hard. Never lost anyone before. When you fell off that cliff, I felt I was watching you die right before my eyes. When I was certain I could save you."
              Across the table, Trevor's eyes dropped, starting to quietly realize how much his leap had affected those around him.
              Rick was looking at nothing now, remembering. "After that, I quit the force .Your death pretty much shattered me. For awhile, the only person I connected with was a female paramedic. She was there, at the scene. At the cliff. Helped treat Mrs. Allen. We dated for a few months. But then... I lost her. Lost yet another person, all over again."
              Trevor nodded, watching him, sympathy in his voice. "Hey I understand, man. And this may be an obvious question, but... did you look for her the last place you saw her?"
              Smiling, Trevor watched and saw his attempt at levity fall on deaf ears. Rick simply stared at him, his gaze desolate under the bright diner lights.
              "She left me, Trevor. I was in a downward spiral and I knew it. I was rudderless, drifting, lost. Guess my life became too dark for her. So I... she moved away. Left the coast, came back home to Chicago. And... against my better judgment, I followed her."
              Trevor looked at Rick, his gaze pleased at Rick's initiative as patrons passed behind him. "Good for you, man. Most good things happen because someone goes against their better judgment."
              For the first time. Rick smiled at Trevor too. He shrugged. "Been out here searching for two months. Trying to find anything that might help me. And I've been drinking ever since. Walking the streets. Now it's February 1st, and I decided to go back to where my fall really started. I had heard it was here somewhere. I decided to see your grave."
              Out of nowhere, Rick paused, looking at him as if finally realizing who he was talking to. "And... why aren't you dead, again?"
              Trevor grinned proudly. "Immortal. I'm a god, you see."
              Rick turned his head slightly, giving him a dubious squint. "Right..."
              Trevor didn't notice. "Long story. I was first banished here from Olympus to set up a hundred couples and earn my way back. A string of beads keeps my count. But then, I jumped off a cliff, tested my immortality, disappeared, went home early, now I'm back and here with Claire, the woman I'm in love with."
              Rick still seemed skeptical. "Uhh-huh. And the hundred couples thing, that still apply?"
              Trevor nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Absolutely. It's why I want to help you, man."
              Suddenly Rick thought of something. "But won't you still be forced to go back if you hit the century mark? Doesn't that still apply too?"
              For a moment, Trevor shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable.
              "Umm, not really important." He looked over at Rick, impressed. "Wow... most people are usually just awed by the entire God of Love part."
              Rick chuckled good-naturedly. "Somehow I really doubt it. So let me get this straight..."
              Trevor leaned eagerly forward. "Fire away."
              "You set people up." For a millisecond, it seemed there was a twinkle of hope in Rick's eyes.
              "Right." Trevor answered.
              "With their true loves."
              "Wow..." Trevor blinked at him, giving him the once over and framing him in his hands. "It's like I'm looking in the mirror, man. Except I always thought I was MUCH hotter than this. With less of that alcohol and vomit smell..."
              Thinking, Rick ignored him. "But nobody knows you're alive."
              Trevor shrugged. "Well..."
              Rick stared straight at him, rubbing the stubble on his scraggily chin as he considered it. "How can you do your job if nobody knows you're alive?"
              "I've helped you humans for thousands of years, and most of THEM didn't know I was alive." Trevor looked away. "Besides, after that shooting incident last time I was in Chicago, there still may be some legal issues about--"
              "I don't think that's why." Rick interrupted simply.
              An awkward, unspoken question passed between the two men in the silence that followed. The sounds of forks, plates and conversations from the rest of the patrons in the diner were the only things that were heard.
              Finally, Trevor spoke, answering him.
              "It's complicated." The words sounded hollow even in his own ears.
              Slowly Rick nodded. "Complicated. Right. I see."
              "See what?"
              "Nothing."
              "What do you see?"
              Keeping his gaze locked on his, Rick didn't look away. "I see a scared man, Trevor. I see a fake grave where the world thinks that some delusional man who believed he was Cupid is buried. And he's not. A fake grave on a fake history of a fake life."
              "Hey!" Trevor snapped back, offended. "I'm still Cupid."
              "Which part? The hiding part or the everyone thinks you're dead part?"
              Trevor shook his head. "You don't understand. I just have to be more discreet now."
              Rick laughed. "Doesn't seem very honest. For an immortal and and god, I mean. You.  Immortal. You. Yeah, right. I don't know how you survived that fall, Trevor. But immortality? Sorry... from here I don't see it."
              "I didn't fall. I flew. I am Cupid. And... I'll prove it to you. Tell me. You and your girl. I'll show you. I'll help you get back together."
              Rick scoffed. "How? By hiding in the day then anonymously roaming the night like some sort of secret shadow Cupid?"
             Nodding,  Trevor smiled, liking the image. "Sounds pretty cool the way you say it."
              "I'm not following the advice of some guy who flitters around the streets at night like some sort of vampire."
              "Well... maybe a LOVE vampire. But believe me. Whatever it takes man. I can do it. It will happen. I can get you two back together."
              Rick blinked at his certainty. "You serious?"
              "oh, 'I' serious. I have resources, man." Not bothered by Rick's obvious skepticism, Trevor non-chalantly looked down and took a sip of his coffee.
              Rick turned his gaze and looked out the window behind Trevor.
              Trevor pressed further. "Tell me where she is and I'll point one of my love minions right at her. Before you know it, headboards will fall, bedsprings will rise, and the two of you will be hot and heavy in some apartment or dressing room or confessional booth as you eat Jell-O shots off of her--"
              Still looking past Trevor and out the window, Rick wasn't really listening. His words were soft as he interrupted, almost as if talking to himself.
              "Sun's coming up."
              Turning around, Trevor looked through the glass over his shoulder and to the street outside. His jaw dropped as he saw how bright the sky had become. Fear in his eyes, he looked down at his watch.
              "Oh crap..." he said softly, stunned.


              It was the same hallway at the same radio studio. But this time Claire walking it in the reverse direction, carrying her purse and putting on her coat as the hallway walls slid by either shoulder. People passed her occasionally, coming out of offices or store rooms, walking the opposite direction. One spoke to her as Claire left work.
              "Goodbye, Mrs. Allen. Good show tonight."
              Claire smiled politely. "Thanks. See you tomorrow."
              Finally the front door was sliding towards her, and she opened it to step into the dim, early morning light, ready for her commute. Eager to be back home, she headed for her car across the parking lot, looking up at the same brightening sky Trevor had seen through the diner window. Pointing her keys at the car, she triggered her remote lock, the car clicking and flashing its headlights before she opened the driver's side door and got in, sitting down and fastening her seat belt.


              At that moment inside the diner downtown, Trevor was freaking out.
              He stood up, still panicking, moving one way then the other like a cornered animal in approaching car headlights, trying to decide which way to go. "Look, I really gotta go. I'm outta time! You have my cell phone number, no time to explain! Stop asking questions! You have my number I gotta go! You do have my number, right?"
              Rick, who had said nothing at all, seemed confused by Trevor's sudden change in demeanor. "Yeah. I got it, Trevor. But where are you--"
              Trevor ducked away. "No time! Gonna get you and your girl back together! You just watch!" As he moved further away from the table and towards the door, he motioned a 'call me' sign and stormed out of the diner in a frantic rush, every person in the room watching him, like a tornado had just passed.
              Rick watched through the diner windows in amazement. Once Trevor darted into the light, he cringed, ducking low and holding his hood over his head to ward off the brightness like a vampire caught in sunlight, as he ran past the window, obviously playing off of what Rick had called him.
              As the commotion died down in the cafe, Rick paused, turning away from the window and looking down at the small slip of paper with Trevor's cell number scribbled on it, turning it in his fingers. He spoke softly to himself, considering.
              "God of love..."


              Across the city, inside Claire Allen's home, Ian Frechette stood anxiously by her large living room window, looking out, waiting, watching. His eyes searched the street and driveway outside, worry etched in his every feature as he saw the sky above brighten even further. There was still no sign of Trevor. The bearded man sighed, worried that time was slipping away, watching the way Trevor had gone last night.
              Suddenly, a slender, pale hand gently touched his shoulder from behind. Frechette turned at the sensation to see Faith standing there with him. For a moment he watched her in wonder, amazed by how beautiful she was. Her blond hair cascaded down her face to either side of dazzling blue eyes that looked serenely at him. But then as he watched her, a genuine concern returned to Frechette's face. He looked back out the window, thinking of Trevor, of him out there all alone. After a moment he gratefully placed his hand over hers on his shoulder without turning towards her.
              "It will be full daylight soon," he said softly, still searching. "Where is he? He's never this late."
              Standing behind him, Faith seemed to feel the tension in his shoulder. "You're really worried, aren't you?"
              He didn't turn. "If Trevor gets caught..."
              Stepping closer to his back, Faith gently reached her arms forward, hugging him from behind.
              "Don't worry, Ian. He'll be fine."
              For a long moment, Frechette paused as he faced the glass. When he spoke, his words were soft, desperate.
              "He has to be..."
              Frechette kept looking out the window, searching. Behind him, Faith's head dropped as she held him, resting on his back.
              "Ian... do you think Trevor's right?
              "About what?" He kept his gaze outside.
              "You.... Needing someone."
              "What? I don't need..."
              "You sure?"
              Frechette still hadn't turned. "Well... of course, I'm.... Yes. I'm sure. I have you in my life."
              "We can't touch."
              "We touch."
              Faith paused, her face sad against his back. "We can't dance..."
              "What?"
              "We can't dance. Not really dance."
              Frechette didn't understand. "That's not true. You know that."
              Faith continued, her eyes glittering with moisture. "We can't really dance because of what I am. No one else sees me. What if... what if I'm really just all in your head."
              "Bliss saw you tonight."
              "Bliss likes you, Ian. And kids love imaginary friends. Maybe she's just playing along."
              Frechette finally turned towards her, his face serious.
              "She looked right at you, Faith. I saw it."
              She couldn't keep the sadness from her eyes. "Maybe... Or maybe your mind put me where she looked."
              Blinking, Frechette seemed uncertain. "No that's... I don't... You don't believe that, do you?"
              "I feel real to myself," Faith looked down at her hands in thought, turning them slowly. "But what if those feelings are yours and not my own?"
              Stepping closer, with Trevor's living room quiet around them, he took her hands into his own and looked into her eyes. "Faith, do you care for me?"
              "Of course."
              He smiled, squeezing her hands. "Then that's all that matters."
              Turning back around, his eyes started looking for Trevor through the window again, watching the brightness grow on the street outside like he had been doing for hours. From behind him, Faith reached out and embraced him a second time, her head still falling sadly onto his back.
              "I do care for you, Ian... Enough to wonder if Trevor's right."
              "That's ridiculous--"
              Several things happened nearly at once.
              With a soft squeal of tires, Claire's car pulled up in the driveway just as he turned around to see Faith and found only empty space. Spinning his head back around to look outside, Frechette's eyes widened as he saw her vehicle come to a stop. He was trapped in her home. Then a loud bang cracked from the living room behind him. He turned towards that noise just to in time to see that one of the side windows had just been slammed up, opened. And with something large coming through. Trevor was already tumbling through the window, covered in twigs and icy dry leaves from the thick shrub just outside. Behind, the branches below the window ledge were still swirling. Outside on the street, Claire got out of her car and started walking towards the house.
              Speechless, Frechette was frozen in place as Trevor wildly regained his feet and scrambled over to the living room window, looking outside, out of breath, his face covered in red twig scratches.
              "This one's gonna be close..." he said, eyes locked on Claire as she walked past the car headlights and onto the entrance sidewalk, maybe a dozen feet from the door.
              Feeling a debilitating panic, Frechette's eyes widened even more as she got closer, choking his words as they stumbled out. "Trevor, I--, wha--, where--"
              Watching Claire too, Trevor wasn't really listening, seeing her closer than before, almost to the front door, and verbalizing it accordingly.
              "Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap crap crap crap!"
              "Trevor, we're caught! It's over! It's all o--"
              Frechette's words were cut off as Trevor suddenly yanked him down and out of sight of the window, ducking him down like he was now. Her footsteps just outside, Claire's shadow flashed across the glass, heading to the front door. Trevor darted past Frechette, ducking low and quickly searching for something in the drawer of a small nearby end table, fumbling frantically through the objects inside.
              "Trevor!" Beside him, Frechette ducked down even lower, speaking in a loud whisper. "She's almost inside! We'll get caught! She's--"
              Curious, Frechette paused as he watched Trevor, his next words more normal. "What are you looking for?"
              Finally, Trevor found what he was looking for and held it up triumphantly.
              Frechette blinked. "Car keys?"
              Lifting one arm up over the edge of the living room window like a periscope, Trevor tried to vaguely guess the direction where Claire's car was. In the hallway beside them, Claire's house keys were already clinking softly in the lock of the house's front door. Aiming desperately, Trevor pushed the car's unlock remote several times in quick succession.
              Outside on the front doorstep, Claire paused when she saw her car headlights flashed on and off out of the corner of her eye, hearing the small musical chirp as the car unlocked behind her. Leaning back for a clearer view, she looked directly at her car as it honked once, the doors locking again, then chirped and flashed another time as it unlocked once more. With a sigh she grabbed her ring of keys from the front door and started walking back, finding her car key remote as she walked past the living room window.
              Inside the house, as Claire's shadow passed over the glass again, Trevor started pushing Frechette deeper into the living room, away from where they could be seen.
              "Go, go, go!" He whispered fiercely, like he was guiding them through an enemy jungle. Keeping low and out of sight of the window, Trevor scrambled Frechette across the living room, both of their knees uncomfortably hitting their chests as they moved. Frechette tried to catch his breath in the constricted position, crouched so low that every step forward threatened to spill him flat on his face. But however rough it was, Trevor pushed him even faster.
              "Go, go go!"
              Voice full of panic now, Frechette looked back at him. "Go? Go where, Trevor?"
              Outside, Claire's car honked as she locked it again. Not stopping their progress, Trevor raised his arm and aimed wildly with his car remote, looking pleased with the sound of another chirp as it unlocked again. He rushed Frechette further away, until the older psychologist finally did lose balance and fall on his face.
              Exasperated by what was happening to her, Claire stood outside, next to her car's front bumper. She glared at it for several moments, before she decided to try again, angrily lifting her car remote in two hands and pointing it like a gun. Taking aim and finally clicking, she watched as the car's parking lights flashed and the car horn honked beyond her hands, the vehicle locking again. Everything seemed fine. But then another chirp and flashing headlights as for no reason it unlocked. And then the trunk popped open behind.
              Claire sighed, walking back towards the house door. "I give up..."
              Inside, Trevor and Frechette stopped near a wall.
              "Trevor, where are we going? How am I going to get out before comes right in the--"
              Looking around he saw that he had been lead to the open window Trevor had tumbled through earlier. Frechette's eyes widened, both of them standing up.
              "No, Trevor! You can't be serious!"
              "No time to argue, proxy man! She walking back here right now. Get in there!" Trevor grabbed the larger man's shoulder and tried to wedge him through as he resisted.
              "Umm..." Looking over at him, Frechette saw there was still twigs and leaves all over Trevor's coat, and several red scratches on his face too where he had crawled through the shrub earlier. "Trevor, there's still branches stuck to your--"
              "Into the garbage chute flyboy! I don't care what you smell!" Forcefully, Trevor shoved Frechette out the window and sent him tumbling out of view with a thud.
              Outside on the front doorstep, Claire paused, looking up and twisting her lower lip, thinking. Without turning around, she lifted her keys over her shoulder and aimed impulsively at her car behind her, clicking one last time. There was a honk as her car locked, and nothing after that. With a smile she switched to her house key and put it in the lock in the front door.
              Inside, Trevor slammed the side window shut, just as he heard Claire's keys unlocking the door at the other end of the entry hall. He turned and ran straight up the nearby stairs, aiming wildly with his car remote, clicking away and no longer caring if it worked or not. Still dressed like he had just gone out, he disappeared out of sight just as the front door opened and Claire stepped in.
              Upstairs, Trevor rushed into the bedroom, looking around, ignoring the fact that his body and head was sprinkled with occasional dried twigs and leaves from his crawl. Claire's footsteps were on the stairs. She was coming up to check on him. The bed was still made, he was supposed to be asleep. Trevor turned quickly in place, wondering what to do. He stumbled on one foot, taking off his shoes, pulling off his coat and his hood, throwing them to the far side of the bed. Her steps were louder, walking down the hall. Without thinking, Trevor threw himself face forward on the bed, going motionless, before he started a loud, fake snore.
              A moment later, Claire gently opened the door and looked in.
              She saw Trevor lying on the bed, quietly asleep, not having bothered to changed for the night. He looked completely out of it. Smiling, she closed the door with a soft sigh. Alone in the hallway, she paused, thinking. Was that a twig she had just seen stuck in Trevor's hair? She reached for the doorknob again.
              Inside, Trevor cracked open an eye the moment she had closed the door. But then he started blinking uncomfortably, something digging into his skull. He batted it wildly away behind the bed, before his head dropped back down and he started loudly snoring again as Claire opened the bedroom door a second time.
              Claire looked at Trevor again, asleep on the bed. He was in he exact same position, snoring away, and there wasn't a branch in sight. Twisting her lips, Claire considered what she thought she had seen, confused.
              "Weird..." she said softly to herself, finally closing the door.
              On the bed inside, Trevor finally sighed, knowing he was in the clear. "That really was close."
              Claire walked quietly down the upstairs hallway and checked in on Bliss, knowing she was never awake at this hour, unlike Trevor. Cracking open the bedroom door, she saw the little girl was still sleeping. She looked like an angel, and Claire's heart lifted, full of love for her and Trevor's amazing little angel of joy. After a moment, she tenderly blew her daughter a kiss, before closing the door and heading downstairs.
              She came down the steps, slipping her coat off and putting her keys down on the end table in the living room. Tired, she stretched her neck, rubbing it softly before she paused, going motionless when she saw something.
              With a sigh, Claire walked slowly over. She moved towards the living room window, where the taped outline of a heart had been placed onto the glass. Without any sense of surprise, she reached over and turned on the small golden table lamp, watching as it glowed red onto the glass.
              Slowly, Claire exhaled. "Ian..."
              Like she had done it several times before, Claire carefully removed the tape from the glass. She unscrewed the light bulb and replaced it with the normal one. Finding Trevor's greek cigar box full of couple set up notes on the dining room table, she carried it and the red bulb over to his 'secret' spot on the wooden pillar, which seemed closed and unnoticeable. Hitting it expertly in an exact, certain way, Claire carefully placed the box and the light bulb in the compartment, closing it gently until the pillar's base looked smooth and uninterrupted again.
              Claire looked over at the living room glass where the heart had been taped, its outline now gone. She spoke softly to herself, staring at the empty glass.
              "Trevor has to come to his senses and stop doing this. I really hope this will be the last time..."
              Walking away, she headed for the kitchen to eat, leaving everything motionless behind.
              The living room was empty.
              Outside, it seemed the day shifted quickly, fading into shadows, the sun's angle rising then falling again, cars and people passing by in a blur, until shadows started covering the scene outside.
              And slowly, fading into view on the glass, the taped outline of a heart appeared the next night, bathed in the glow of the upturned table lamp.


              Frechette was standing next to the dining room table again, Claire off at work again. He was seething as he faced Trevor, completely furious.
              "Trevor!" he said angrily, "This is what in the psychiatric field is called NOT keeping a secret!"
              Trevor shrugged, not understanding. "What?!"
              Frechette nodded to Trevor's side.
              Rick was standing there next to him, hands in his pockets, looking bored.
              Frechette glared at him. "Trevor, he's not supposed to be here!"
              Trevor tried to calm Frechette down "It's okay, proxy man. Rick's going to help us. Another love minion in the war of love!"
              Not wanting to her any of it, Frechette shook his head. "Trevor, he can't stay!"
              With a yawn, Rick nodded, already turing away. "Ok. I'll be going then."
              Darting over, Trevor calmly grabbed Rick by the shoulders and turned him around. He looked at Frechette as he guided him back. "Rick knows about us. If he leaves, he's becomes a liability. But if he stays, he becomes something far safer. He becomes an accessory."
              Frechette looked down, his jaw hardening. Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
              "What's he going to do? Serve cookies? Keep the minutes of the group?" Frechette lifted a notebook and shook it angrily at him, his other free hand pushing a plate forward on the table. "I've already done that!"
              Curious, Rick leaned forward and looked at the notebook Frechette put back down, seeing it filled with detailed notes of past meetings. He looked at Frechette coldly.
              "You keep notes?"
              "Yes."
              "For this?" Rick nodded towards the empty room.
              Frechette glared at him. "Of course I do."
              Rick stared for a long, silent moment, his face an empty expression. "Ok, I'm outta here."
              Trevor stopped him again, rubbing crumbs off his lips from the cookie he had eaten from the plate on the table, before handing Rick a cookie and patting him on the back to keep him in place.
              Rick looked at the cookie in his hand, blinking before lifting his eyes to Frechette again. "So... what is all this? Why are you here?"
              "I'm here to help Cupid, the god of love, through his mission on earth."
              Rick paused, uncertain how to respond. "Seriously?"
              Frechette gazed steadily at him, certain. "Without a doubt."
              Trevor stepped in. "Look, 'chetty. I want Rick here. And I need you to help him with this. So I have a mission for you."
              Frechette instantly had his pen and notepad out and in hand, waiting. "Yes. Tell me, master Cupid."
              Rick's eyes froze, before looking over at Trevor. Trevor lowered his gaze, uncomfortable.
              "Please don't call me that."
              Frechette seemed chastised, but said nothing.
              "Rick here, has lost his girl. He needs to get her back. And he needs your help to do it."
              Nodding, Frechette started taking notes. "I am at your service, Mast--" He paused, correcting himself. "... god of love."
              Something about that was finally too much, and Rick shook his head, having heard enough. "That's it! I'm outta here."
              Trevor looked back and forth between the two men quickly as Rick started to leave. "What? Why!"
              Rick turned, speaking to Trevor but jerking his head towards Frechette. "He's as nutty as you are. I don't want any part of this little... circle of insanity in the world."
              Trevor spread his arms. "What insanity?"
              Frechette's mouth wrinkled in utter frustration. "I can't work with this, Master Cupid! He's not even a believer in your immortal divinity."
              Exasperated himself, Rick pointed over at him. "That insanity! Goodbye, Trevor."
              "Rick, wait. Wait!"
              "Wait for what? To think I agonized over you dying. Over me not saving you. Instead you're just some delusional man with his delusional follower. I don't know who's crazier, you or him. I mean look at you! Skulking in the shadows, clandestine secret meetings, your only self worth is the absurd thought that the world is somehow out to get you. I can't do this, Trevor!"
              Frechette nodded. "Then go, you non-beliving, beer swilling, hygiene challenged heretic!"
              Trevor tried to get things back on track, looking over. "You can't do what, Rick?"
              "This. Any of this. Trevor, my life is a train wreck as it is. I don't need to get involved in your own personal crash and burn here."
              "Look man, I need your help. Can I talk to you privately for a second?"
              Rick blinked. "What?"
              Trevor nodded. "It'll only take a second. Totally up to you. Your call, man. Come on." Trevor started guiding Rick away like he had already agreed even though he had said nothing. "See, you're a good egg, Ricky boy. Let's go."
              As he guided Rick into the hallway, Trevor looked over to see Frechette packing his things and getting ready to leave as well.
              "Frechette, what are you doing man?"
              "I'm leaving, Trevor. I don't need this kind of abuse from some wasted wash-out who's not even willing to believe. Or care about what we're doing."
              Trevor darted back over to him, pulling Frechette to the opposite corner of the dining room. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
              Whispering, Frechette's leaned angrily in. "Trevor what's the point of him here? If he doesn't believe, he can't help us!"
              Trevor shook his head. "It's not about him helping us, it's about us helping him."
              On the other side of the room, Trevor was suddenly talking privately to Rick, standing alone before him. "Rick, I have to be honest here. This isn't really about us helping you, it's about you helping Frechette."
              Rick blinked, looking over at the man in the opposite corner. "Him?"
              Standing with Trevor before him , Frechette looked over at Rick. "Him? Helping him?"
              Trevor waved his hands. "Yes, 'him'. Look, I'll give him some absurd story that he's helping you out..."
              Trevor was talking to Rick, away from Frechette. "I'll tell him that he's supposed to be helping you, he'll buy that, but it'll be the other way around."
              Rick thought about it. "The other way around, huh?"
              Trevor nodded at the confusion in Frechette's eyes as the two of them spoke again. "Believe me, proxy man, he won't have a clue."
              Frechette blinked. "What is that supposed to mean?"
              Trevor spoke conspiratorially to Rick. "It means you can never tell him that he's your real mission."
              Uncertain, Rick sighed wearily. "Why can't you do this?"
              "You've seen how he is." Trevor mimicked his body becoming all tense and contorted for a moment. "I'm glad for his help but Frechette's a little..."
              "Crazy?"
              Trevor smiled. "Over zealous."
              Trevor kept moving back and forth between the two camps, moving one direction across the dining room, before eventually moving the other, repeating over and over in a zig zag. It all blended into a quick succession of images, always passing the dining table stationary in the center
              Trevor was talking to Frechette again, nodding over to where Rick was standing across the room. "Do you want to help me or not? Do you believe in what we're doing? Helping couples, true love, all that?"
              Frechette seemed more subdued. "Of course I do, but--"
              "This... is THAT. We need to help him."
              Rick examined Frechette from across the room, listening to Trevor standing before him. "I'll probably regret asking this, but how do you want me to help him?"
              Trevor nodded. "Old 'chetty over there thinks he's secretly helping you. But you're secretly helping him. I need you to find a woman for him. The man needs to get laid!"
              Rick sighed. "I do regret it."
              Trevor continued. "You've seen how he is! All tense and on the verge. Because this is all he has! I need to mellow him down a bit, get him out of my hair. So what I'm asking you to do for him is to help him see that there are other things in life. Things of the feminine variety. Or in more poetic terms... I want you to get him some."
              Frechette blinked at what Trevor had just told him, trying to be clear. "Rick? You want me to find Rick a match? Where? Bag lady?"
              Trevor shook his head, his voice lower so Rick wouldn't hear. "Rick's already got the girl. I just need you to get them together again."
              "It'll never work." Frechette scowled at Trevor. "In my work, I've seen his type before. Complete train wrecks. Inpatients waiting to happen."
              Suddenly Frechette seemed introspective.
              "I could always try thorax-B on him..."
              "No!" Trevor said adamantly, as if talking to a puppy. "No! Bad doctor. How many times do I have to tell you. You can't find love through pharmaceuticals."
              Frechette shook his head. "He's not looking for love, Trevor. He's looking for himself."
              "Well, help him find his girl, and he'll be there too! His 'Self' is found, problem solved. I'll convince him that he's helping you with my beads, but extra super secretly, you'll be helping him. Beads gotta start moving here."
              "Beads?" Rick blinked as he asked the question, he and Trevor alone on the other side of the room. "You mean that part's actually real?"
              Scoffing, Trevor guided rick into the darkness of the living room and showed him the string of beads hanging there, most on one side, some on the other. "See those? That's why I'm here. That's my count. That's my mission."
              "I thought you were here to be with the woman you love."
              "Well, that too..."
              Rick looked at the beads in the shadows, before giving Trevor a discerning glance out of the corner of his eye. "So... You never answered me before. The 100 beads thing. That still apply?"
              Trevor seemed uncomfortable and chose to ignore it.
              "Proxy McBeardy over there thinks he's secretly trying to get you your girl back. So he'll try to be clever and clandestine to keep the secret. But I still want you to help him. Keep your eyes open. Spot any prospects for him. Preferably with low standards. Or with low lighting."
              Looking skeptical, Rick turned and faced Trevor, finally putting it all on the table, his words cold and uncaring "Why should do any of this, Trevor."
              The light from the dining room was still falling on them in the dark. Trevor calmly stepped forward, looking into Rick's face with a serious glint. "Look at your life, man. You're a wreck. A mess. Even he knows it. You need to turn it around. And all that needs is a spark, a first step. Right here. Right now. You need to help someone to help yourself. To get your cajones back. Because love is the one, rare thing in the universe, man. When you give it, it gives back. Help Ian, you'll find your girl. And you'll find yourself. Doesn't make sense, but it's true. You do want her back, don't you?"
              "Well..." Rick paused. "She's..."
              "I can help you do that."
              Finally, Rick nodded in agreement. "Of course I want her back. Right there with you, Trevor."
              Nodding, Trevor still looked at him seriously. "Winning her back won't be easy. You're going to have to do some stupid things."
              "Check."
              "Reckless things."
              "Ok."
              "Things that scare you to death. Can you do that?"
              For a moment, Rick paused, uncertain. "Yes... yes I can, Trevor."
              Trevor was talking to Frechette again across the room, who was looking steely into his eyes. "Why should I help this man? A man who's not even willing to believe."
              "Because it's what we do." With a smile, Trevor looked at Frechette, speaking with absolute asuredness, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's what we do."
              Frechette paused, thinking about that simple answer, before he seemed to accept it. "Yes... Yes, it is."
              Trevor's voice grew louder, his words more animated, going into cheerleader mode. "So... you with me, proxy man?"
              Frechette smiled at the image. "I'm with you."
              "Wait, let me say it again. Are you with me?"
              "I'm with you," Rick answered half heatedly, the two of them alone on the other side of the room.
              With a pleased expression, Trevor spoke even louder. "I can't hear you! I said, ARE YOU WITH ME!"
              Frechette smiled, buoyed by Trevor's energy as he spoke, a spark in the bearded man's eye. "I'm with you!"
              "Right! That's what I'm talking about!" Trevor gave a downward twin closed fist thump of encouragement onto either of Frechette's shoulders. Frechette returned the motion, almost knocking Trevor down, surprisingly strong.
              ""Ok," Trevor nodded. "Let's go get em..."
              He motioned Frechette back to the dining room table, before following behind him and pausing for a moment to silently wince at the hit Frechette had given him while no one was watching.
              Standing in the doorway of the darkened living room, Rick looked at Trevor there with him, the two of them outlined against the light beyond. His words were calmer. "I'm with you, Trevor."
              Trevor pushed him into the dining room. "Ok. Get into it."
              Trevor guided Rick back over the table, where Frechette was already waiting.
              "Ok..." Trevor finally addressed the two of them as one again, standing between them. "You both have cell phones, so I'll stay in contact with you from here at LOVE CENTRAL. Stay close. Stay in contact. Be afraid. Be very afraid. It's a love jungle out there, and it's time to eat. So grab an apron and dive in. We have until daylight when Claire gets back from work. But most of all, stay together! Hold hands if you like. You are each there to back up the other. See that guy next to you? That's your wing man. Let me check on Bliss for a second, then you guys are heading out."
              Trevor left the dining room, heading upstairs and leaving Rick and Frechette alone in an awkward silence. They stood there motionless for several moments, each staring at the strange man before them. Suddenly they were less sure about the prospect without Trevor's exuberance in the room.
              Leaning forward and placing his palms on the dining room table, Frechette exhaled deeply to steady himself, looking down. Suddenly a slender hand slid up across his shoulder, comforting him. Faith was there, looking up into his eyes. "It'll be okay, Ian."
              Frechette turned to her gratefully. "Thank you. I know it will be."
              With his head turned slightly, Rick watched Frechette suspiciously from across the room. Frechette seemed to talk to empty space, smiling at it and putting his hand up onto his own shoulder even though there was nothing there.
              "Who are you talking to?" He asked dubiously.
              Frechette looked uncomfortable again, turning away. "Umm.... nobody."
              After a moment, Frechette looked at Rick from across the dining room table, coldly evaluating him as they waited for Trevor, giving Rick a probing gaze. Finally he spoke.
              "Trevor must really believe in you to bring you here. To break his secret."
              Not intimidated by his stare, Rick simply shrugged, not knowing how to respond. "Umm... I guess so."
              Frechette continued, his eyes not leaving him. "I just hope your worthy of all this attention from the god of love."
              "Worthy?"
              Frechette nodded. "It's a great honor."
              Rick tried not to smile. "You... you're really into this, aren't you."
              Frechette scowled and played innocent, not being very helpful. "I don't really know what you're talking about."
              Suddenly Trevor came eagerly storming back into the room, a fire in his step as he gathered the two of them together, one in each arm and started guiding quickly to the door.
              "Ok you two, get out there! Move it! Bliss is asleep and it's time for you two to grab some! CARPE NOCTURNA! So move it! We're burning moonlight here."
              Standing by the front door, Trevor flipped it open like it was an airplane portal over a high drop, before moving to the side. With one hand he started shoving Rick and Frechette out of the house and onto the doorstep like they were paratroopers jumping out of a World War 2 movie, as his other hand repeatedly flicked the porch light on and off in a frantic rhythm.
              "Go, go, go! You want to live forever?! Been there, done that! Go, go, go! Fly my love minions, fly!"
              Stumbling out and confused, Rick and Frechette took a few steps onto the entry way, before the front door slammed shut and everything went quiet.
              The porch light turned off, dropping everything into darkness.
              Rick looked at Frechette. "Trevor told you to secretly help me while I secretly help you, right?"
              Frechette nodded, not wanting to play games. "Exactly."
              "Good. Always preferred the straight approach."
              "Agreed." Frechette answered, feeling getting to the point was better as well.
              After a moment, Rick sighed. "Let's get this over with."
              Frechette shrugged not used to having a partner as he headed out. "How are we going to..."
              "I have a car. I'll go get it."
              As Rick walked away looking bored, Frechette followed more slowly before he stopped when he heard a voice behind him.
              "Ian..."
              Frechette turned around and saw Faith standing there in the shadows outside Claire's home. With a start, he realized something was different. She wasn't standing close to him, she was standing almost a dozen feet away. Confused, he called over.
              "Faith? What are you doing?" Wanting to get closer, he took a step... and a chill went through him when he saw her subtly step back from him. Frechette paused, concerned.
              "What's going on," he asked.
              Faith lowered her gaze. "I've been thinking, Or maybe you've been thinking, I don't know. But I can't let things go on like everything's the same. With what Trevor said, what he wants for you. I feel... I feel I.... have to ask you a question, Ian."
              He stood rooted to where he was, facing her in the dark, looking at her pale and beautiful. But there was a sadness on her features. Swallowing, Frechette continued.
              "Umm... what kind of question?"
              Faith looked at him, and she paused, as if knowing it came down to this, almost afraid of his answer.
              "Are you ashamed of me?"
              He sputtered. "Faith, no I, of course not. Don't think that. It's just, well... people just wouldn't--"
              "Ian..." Tears glittered in her eyes. "Do you see us, you and me, as a romantic couple?"
              For a moment, Frechette was utterly speechless.
              Finally he blinked, searching for words. His throat seemed to catch, like it was constricted. He stammered, trying to find something to say. "Well... I..."
              Faith closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek.
              Frechette tried to step closer.
              Another small step back by Faith.
              "Ian... I think deep down you still think you might be crazy."
              "Faith, no. I--"
              "Deep down you still think I might not be real. But the worst part is... maybe I'm starting to think that too."
              "Faith, never think that! You should never--"
              She wasn't listening, tears in her eyes as she looked at him again. "Trevor is right, Ian. You do need someone in your life. All of your life. Someone at your side and not in in your head. Someone in photographs with you. Or at family gatherings. Walking down the sidewalk and seeing two shadows ahead instead of one. You need something... real."
              "Faith, I don't care about that."
              She turned away from him completely, her head low, and slowly she started to walk away.
              "Find someone real, Ian. Someone you can love without shame. With who my question isn't even a question."
              "Faith. Faith no, wait. Faith!"
              He moved to follow her as she left, but then there was a screech of tires and the beams from two car headlights swept across the yard. The light passed over where Faith was as she left and instantly she was gone, the beams never touching her. Shocked, Frechette stopped.
              From behind him came a car honk. Rick leaned his head out of the window of his rusty, dilapidated compact car, calling out.
              "Hey, come on! Let's get going!"
              Frechette looked at the empty space where Faith had disappeared, but there was only shadows there now. Feeling empty inside, he finally turned away, heading towards the glowing car headlights shining onto Claire's driveway.


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