Octavia pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand, a weighty sigh escaping the paling lips. A steaming mug of tea warmed the ice from her fingers, the heady aroma of the strong brew helping to calm to raging emotion building in her chest. Amethyst eyes opened to peer out the large window running along one wall, the stormy fall atmosphere sensuously stroking the melancholy that clung to her like a second skin, weighing her impossibly downward. Forcefully tearing her eyes from the raindrops sliding so teasingly down the thick glass, Octavia refocused on her father as he paced, hand clenched tightly around his cell phone as he moved. The normally jovial eyes were treacherous and dark, kind face twisted in a striking fury.

It had been ten days since admitting her fault to the group, and eleven days since she had finally acknowledged the slow burn of attraction to the two-tone spinner. All forms of communication with the jockey had been severed, causing a debilitating distress to flood the cellist's very core, crushing her with an unshakeable chill. A sharp rise in the man's voice cut at her attention, drawing her eyes impossibly upward to stare quietly at the visibly tense body. Feeling the familiar weight of a gaze, Viktor flashed an uneven smile to the cellist before reclaiming his seat beside her, phone shifting quietly to his chest pocket.

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

The raven-haired musician sighed heavily, fingers lifting to trace the rim of her mug, mind aimlessly drifting for the third time that morning. Sleep eluded her, insomnia dancing devilishly around her in a nasty haze, pulling all feeling of vitality from deep within her throbbing center. Attempting to ignore the souring depression, she lifted her eyes to look steadily at her father, words swirling on her tongue.

"What have you heard?"

Her words were quiet, almost ghost-like in their existence. Viktor grunted, lips pulling into a dissatisfied scowl, eyebrows bunching high on the tanned forehead.

"Your mother has been screaming at me for the past few days, saying you've gone and lost your mind. That was her on the phone just now, barking orders for me to disown you, distrust you, stop loving you? She has yet to tell me what it is that's so horrible."

Octavia inhaled sharply, the bitterness of the words too harsh a truth to ignore. Clearing her throat, the woman ran an unbalanced hand through the pallor locks, dark eyes flicking closed.

"I told mother that I'd fallen in love... with Vinyl."

Viktor smiled briefly as his face fell, eyes wandering the cellist's face as he lifted a hand to tuck a stray bang behind her ear. Octavia ignored the tears as they rolled silently from her eyes, streaks glowing in the fair light of the massive office. Exhaling heavily, the tall man pulled the mug from rigid fingers and pulled the woman into his arms. A high-pitched whine escaped the curled lips, days of pent-up torment spilling forth at an almost dizzying rate. Viktor merely held the cellist as she sobbed, his own eyes tearing at the brutal display of heartbreaking clarity. For a time the cellist simply cried, unearthed by the agonizing reality that she had virtually shattered her happiness with a tight, mindless retort.

Sniffling, Octavia finally pulled back, amethyst eyes red and glassy from her influx of tears. Viktor simply reached into his pocket and pulled free a handkerchief before offering it to the musician, pleased when she cautiously took the small, silk square. Dabbing at her eyes, Octavia sniffled before curling the material in her hands, eyes squeezing shut. The tall CEO shuffled forward in his place, hands climbing to tuck under the clenched jaw, tugging softly to pull the tear-stained face upward. Grinning at the player, he absently wiped the tracks with his thumbs, mulberry eyes glowing with pride for the woman.

"Do you truly love her, angel?"

Offering a small smile, she merely nodded before collapsing back against his suit-clad chest.

"I do, daddy, and I've simply made a mess of things. I hurt her, and I don't know how to fix it. She hasn't taken any calls, she... I can't blame her, considering how I've acted as of late. I have this... terrible ache in my chest, daddy."

He chuckled, hands absently stroking the cellist's hair, thoughts wandering.

"That's love, sweetness. Do you want to fix whatever it is between you?"

"More than anything."

Viktor tugged her back from his chest, crooking a finger under her chin to bring her face upwards, eyes meeting in silent understanding.

"Then find a way."

Octavia jerked back at the words, confusion spiraling along her synapses, sharp eyes focusing on the confident smile currently threatening her father's attempt at seriousness. She laughed in that moment, a surprising giggle that bubbled its way from deep within her callous existence. The cellist nodded, hands skimming her dark hair before reaching blindly for the cup on the small table beside them. She smiled around the rim of the mug, eyes falling thankfully closed. Taking a small sip of the tepid drink, she snapped her eyes over to her father, studying the knowing look; she nodded her head to him, resolution twisting within her.

Vinyl gunned the throttle of the bike, taking off from her red light to continue on toward the Harwan. The rain cut at her like small shards of glass, the bitter autumn storm numbing her to the very bone. Flicking on her signal, she glided the bike toward the curb and pulled up deftly, booted feet splashing down into a puddle as she steadied the hefty machine. Slippery fingers rose to pull off the rain-dotted helmet before placing it firmly on the ornate gas tank, the white paint shimmering beautifully in the pale lighting of the dreary morning. Kicking a leg over the custom bike, Vinyl absently pushed her drenched bangs from her forehead, the well-hidden carmine eyes lifting to rake down the familiar car parked outside the venue.

Walking forward slightly, Vinyl smiled at the powerful automobile, painted in Wonderbolt blue, hood adorned with a flaming phoenix design, matching the Mark of the owner in perfect detail. Smoothing her hands across the scooped hood, Vinyl smiled ruefully at the still-warm metal, her face falling as she turned, scanning the blacktop before facing toward the large, double doors of the venue. Tugging on the ornate handles, she slipped inside, instantly greeted by a familiar din of voices echoing around the inner hall of the vintage theatre. Shrugging out of the damp jacket, Vinyl walked slowly down the center aisle, focus skipping between the two occupants of the stage, a small frown tugging at her lips.

Tossing a small wave to the violinist that sat just on the edge of the platform, booted feet casually dangling, large book tucked under one arm, Vinyl flashed an uneasy smile. Turning toward the side stairs, Vinyl carefully climbed the polished wood before joining the pair of women on the stage, violet lenses glistening like diamonds in the bright lights. Spitfire looked up and jerked her chin at the musician, brown eyes carefully mulling over the jockey.

"Didn't think you'd show, Scratch."

"Felt a bit cagey."

Tossing the damp jacket on the edge of the stage, Vinyl rolled her shoulders before approaching the large black piano, fingers lifting to swipe across the neck of her patiently waiting guitar before taking a seat behind the ivories. Spitfire scoffed and hurried to her feet, legs churning as she approached the piano, hands palming the soft finish before she hopped up to sit on the closed top. Gesturing toward the pianist, the flame-haired pilot meticulously looked over the haggard appearance of the jockey.

"When's the last time you slept, V?"

"Sunday."

"It's fucking Thursday."

"That's unfortunate."

Spit narrowed her eyes, a growing uneasiness roiling in her gut. Reaching forward, she plucked off the violet lenses and slid them over her own wild hair, gaze focusing on the emptiness encompassing the normally impassioned red eyes. Spit tipped forward, hand scraping along the silky finished surface as she leaned toward the jockey, eyes locked as she tilted. Vinyl cocked her head, blinking slowly.

"Let's go through some reps before the guys get here."

"Not until you talk to me."

Annoyed, Vinyl pushed back from the piano, hand moving to swipe her lenses from the pilot before stepping skillfully around the irritated woman. Plucking her guitar from the stand, she adjusted the strap around her torso before attaching the wireless pack and plugged in the guitar, grinning when she heard the hum emitting from the stack behind the curtain. Scorching the pilot with a challenging glare, Vinyl curled her lip in disdain before watching the flyer slide down from the piano.

Symphony eyed both women as they circled one another, wills clashing as Spitfire studied the unbalanced guitarist. Brows twitching, Vinyl dropped her glasses over her eyes before playing a chord, lips twisting in a disapproving grimace. Turning her sights to the violinist just behind Spit, she jerked her head, tongue escaping to trace her bottom lip.

"Strings, call off your attack dog. Spit, stop fucking looking at me like that."

Symphony, from her relaxed position on the edge of the stage, frowned, teal eyes searching the women as they continued to move around one another, willing the other to back down. Vinyl suddenly broke the tentative waltz, fingers gracing the frets as she fell into playing a short tune. Vinyl slowly moved around the stage, fingers never ceasing in their movement, focus drawn to the instrument as she played. The stingy pilot merely grunted before disappearing behind the curtains and cut the power to the jockey's stack, pleased when the DJ snapped her head up to stare at the captain. Emerging from behind the curtains, Spit felt her hands drop to her hips, fingers digging in harshly as she watched the DJ.

"Vinyl, chill out for a second. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. Now plug my amp back in before I beat you."

Symphony finally climbed to her feet, carefully stowing the book on the stage before she moved to stand between the two women. Tossing an aggrieved look to her lover, she pivoted and smiled kindly to the jockey.

"Hey, V, ignore her. Are you doing okay? We haven't heard from you in a while."

"I was writing. Sorry."

Sensing the tumultuous emotions shifting just below the surface, Symphony closed the space separating her from the detached DJ and lifted her arms to crush the other woman in a comforting embrace. Vinyl stiffened before finally relenting, fingers tracing the hem of the violinist's well-loved sweater as she stooped. Tugging away from the warmth, Vinyl half-shrugged, lenses lifting to slowly expose the primal, carmine eyes to the bright lights of the theatre.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Lyra tells me you've been holed up in the apartment for the last week."

"In all fairness, I left to spin at Rave most nights."

"Vinyl."

The jockey sighed gravely, hands lifting the guitar over her shoulder before stalking over to place it on its stand. Fingers twitching, Vinyl pulled at the tangles in the still wet hair, a myriad of emotion skittering across the pale face. Spitfire lurched forward and stepped in the path of the spiraling spinner, hands flying up to calm the musician. Hissing, Vinyl ripped herself away from the contact, eyes wounded, feral. Ceasing the frenetic motion, Scratch crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head, forcing the ragged breaths escaping her lips to steady. Cracking her shoulders, Vinyl zeroed in on the two women on the stage before her.

"Octavia called me. I was writing-- I don't have time to socialize when I'm writing."

Symphony nodded, unaffected at the small admittance. She had been in contact with the emotional cellist just a few days prior, filling herself in where information was scarce. Spitfire grunted at the confession, brown eyes eclipsed in irritation.

"Oh yeah? What'd she say?"

"Couldn't fucking tell you. Didn't listen."

She fished the new phone out of her pocket and tossed it at the pilot, eyes flickering as she steeled her nerves, face falling into emotional ruin.

"I still have the voicemails. I can't take it. Why can't she just leave me alone?"

Spit looked down at the screen, eyes staring at the small icon in the corner of the large display, a small number accompanying the image. Spit held the phone out to Symphony before steadying herself to walk the few steps to the distressed pianist, eyes never wavering from the stony visage.

"You ever gonna see what she wants?"

"... why should I?"

"Because it might help--"

"Every time I hear my phone ring, a part of me dies inside, even if it's not Octavia. Tell me how to stop that from happening, and then maybe I'll have the nerve to confront that woman."

Breezing passed the pilot, Vinyl escaped behind the curtain and flicked the power back on to the amp, satisfied when her strings made the correct sounds in the atmosphere. The sound of heavy doors opening echoed around the vast space, only to be drowned out by the familiar cacophony of male voices as the three very late musicians finally breached the arena. Smiling at the men, Vinyl flicked her eyes to the glowering Spit, glasses again sliding down to cover the tear-filled eyes.

The men noisily filed onto the stage, each carrying their respective instrument as they scattered along the polished platform. Symphony smiled at Spit before heading toward the side exit, hands absently brushing across tense shoulders as she left. The tallest of the men, a young bassist with striking gray eyes and a thick head of burgundy hair, grinned merrily before slapping the jockey on the back.

"Glad to get the band back together, eh, Pony?"

Tossing a look over her shoulder, she smiled, lenses shifting at the movement.

"Shut the hell up, Bone."

Another man slid in behind the piano, quiet bronze eyes focusing on the DJ as she absently plucked a string on her guitar, signaling he was on piano duty for the moment. The third male, the shortest, hooked into the wireless, his vibrant green ax hanging low on slim hips as he looked to Spitfire, chocolate eyes silently urging her forward. Scoffing, Spitfire approached the kit tucked carefully at the back end of the stage before collapsing onto the stool, hands grabbing at the sticks as she plainly spun one with her left hand. Staring at Vinyl, she curled her lip, brown eyes daring her to break.

"Waiting on you, bitch."

Octavia pressed her lips together, a sense of dread snaking its way down her body. She sat, curled up in the rear of her father's limousine as she was on her way back to her apartment. The rain had stopped for the moment, allowing her a brief reprieve from the relentless weather. Sighing softly, the cellist leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the rear window as the car moved, impossibly sad eyes scanning the dreary scenery with mindless complacency. Gasping, Octavia straightened as the neared the Harwan, vision focusing on the three vehicles parked outside the iconic structure. Snapping her head to the side, she motioned wildly for the driver to stop.

"Martin, pull over, please!"

Doing as requested, the older man gently shifted the car over before stopping completely. Octavia scrambled from the back quickly and slammed the door, feet rapidly approaching the soaked cycle as it sat, still, in the thick atmosphere. Martin stepped from the car and peered over the long roof, eyes clouding.

"Miss Octavia?"

Mulberry eyes transfixed, Octavia ran an unsteady hand along the wet leather of the seat before tracing the beads of water on the pearly gas tank and helmet, hands climbing higher to tightly grip the chrome of the handlebars. Biting back the bitter tears threatening to spill, Octavia lifted her eyes to focus on the convertible, a strange turmoil splashing through her as an image of the fiery pilot swept through her brain. Shaking free the image, Octavia refocused on the bike, hands moving of their own accord as her mind began to wander. An impossibly soft noise to her right pulled just enough, eyes slipping up to focus on the impeccably dressed driver.

"Are you all right, Miss Octavia?"

"Yes, I... I'll be okay here, you may go."

Hesitating, the man tipped his hat to her, but gently shook his head.

"No, ma'am. I've been--"

"I'll make it home, Martin. Please. I'll be fine."

Pausing to gauge her actions, the man smiled kindly before turning to return to the limo. Slipping inside, the man easily slid back into traffic before heading toward the garage. Returning her sights to the bike, Octavia sighed heavily, falling back into the memories shared on the back of the motorcycle. A clap of thunder, close by the sound of it, grounded the cellist for a moment, the tears she felt stinging her eyes returning with astounding defiance. Scrambling toward the Harwan, she paused, hand wrapped painfully around the ornate handles as she warred with either the option of fight or flight. Hearing the rain beginning to fall, Octavia quietly slid inside and closed the doors with nary a sound, heart hammering painfully in her chest as she quickly scurried away from the doors.

A mixture of voices reached the sensitive ears, the cellist only recognizing three of the several tones. Slipping toward the left, she made short work of the ornate foyer before approaching the balcony stairs. Unhooking the red velvet rope, Octavia silently ascended the stairs, a deafening ringing drowning out the roar of blood in her ears. Cresting the stairs, Octavia crept low toward the railing before peaking over, eyes immediately landing on the pale jockey before scanning the stage.

Spitfire sat, reclining, behind a large drum kit, fiery hair bright in contrast with the surrounding stage area. Three men stood together at center stage, guitars strung carelessly around their lithe, punkish forms. Octavia flicked her eyes back to Vinyl as she sat, stooping over the keys of the piano, wild blue hair mussed and spiky with a certain dampness. Octavia curled her hands around the cool wood of the railing, amethyst eyes casually watching the exchange on stage. She watched as Vinyl stood, a thin bandage wrapped around one forearm, angry pink cuts glaringly obvious, even from high above. The jockey waved her hand, voice escaping in a deep wave.

"Guys, we're going to do the heavy stuff. That's what we do."

The middle player, the backup pianist, grinned and approached the spinner, bronze eyes glowing with quiet adoration for the jockey.

"Bull honky, Scratch. You're gonna sing, with that piano, and own the balls offa Fall Fest. That voice is too sweet to drown completely with our noise."

"That's a nice idea, Stiteler, but we're just gonna stick with--"

Bone walked forward and tucked the jockey against his side, steel eyes glittering with humor.

"Pony, you can sing the pants off the princesses, so we're gonna give you a slow one. Pick it, we'll break it down now."

Spit nodded, both hands absently whirling the sticks as she smiled at the jockey. Red eyes scanning the supportive faces, Vinyl shrugged and smirked before returning to the piano. The stage fell quiet for a moment, the jockey running through the many songs she wanted to perform. Octavia, from her perch above the seating, sunk into a chair in the front row, sad eyes watching as the musicians playfully interacted on the massive stage. A click from behind her shoulder startled her, causing her to spin wildly, eyebrows drawn in concern. Symphony smiled down at her before she continued onward, stopping only to drop in the chair next to the cellist.

"How long have you been up here?"

"How did you know I was up here?"

Symphony smiled before frowning, eyes searching the cellist's dejected slump of perfect shoulders.

"I didn't know it was you. I saw the rope down when I went to the bathroom."

Nodding, Octavia merely kept her gaze outward, eyes following every minute movement of the pianist. Symphony kept her own focus on Octavia, teal eyes taking in every striking detail of the subdued cellist.

"You can go down there, you know. None of those guys can even hold a candle to Lyra."

"I don't think that would be wise."

Tearing her vision from the quiet musicians, Octavia finally met the eyes of her friend, an echoing hurt pulsing from deep within the dark orbs. Symphony grasped at the cellist's forearm, eyebrows drawing high in her trepidation.

"Vinyl mentioned that you had called her."

"I did. I even went to the places she works, but... I could never get in."

Symphony was silent for a moment, words tumbling around before she grinned.

"I think Vinyl black-listed you."

"It wouldn't surprise me."

They were silent for a moment, both women intrigued by the group on the stage below. Vinyl absently tapped at a few keys before cracking her knuckles. The jockey smiled to the guitarist, head bobbing in understanding.

"Count in for 'Heart,' got it, fellas?"

Vinyl began to play, fingers dancing nimbly across the keys.

"I will wander 'til the end of time, torn away from you."

Spit counted in with the drums as Vinyl increased her playing, voice breaking into a long note as the rest of the band joined in.

"I pulled away to face the pain. I close my eyes and drift away, over the fear that I will never find a way to heal my soul. And I will wander 'til the end of time, torn away from you."

Octavia stiffened, hollow eyes staring at the jockey, tears falling unnoticed.

"My heart is broken. Sweet sleep, my dark angel. Deliver us, from sorrow's hold. Over my heart. I can't go on living this way. And I can't go back the way I came. Chained to this fear that I will never find a way to heal my soul. And I will wander 'til the end of time, half alive without you."

Symphony sat forward in her seat, the words blanketing the intense flaring of her heart, the meaning behind the words tumbling harshly in her subconscious. Octavia gripped the balcony railing, knuckles white with the exertion, impossibly drawn to the emotional display.

"Change. Open your eyes to the light. I denied it all so long. Oh so long. Say goodbye. Goodbye. My heart is broken. Release me. I can't hold on, deliver us."

Gentle notes wafted gently from the piano as the band wound down, Spitfire the first to deflate, hands falling numbly at her sides. She watched Vinyl, sitting motionless, hands still resting easily on the keys. The boys grinned and gently nudged one another, eyes trained on the talented singer.

"Great fucking jam, Scratch. That one definitely has to make it."

The bassist smiled toothily, eyes shimmering with utter surprise at the amazingly personal song.

"Yeah, Scratch. If you're down, we'll back it 100%."

Vinyl smiled, reflexive, a certain preoccupation taking residence on the perfect lips.

"Don't know, guys. We'll see."

Octavia released the breath she had been holding, body finally reacting to the emotional stimulus currently coursing through her shattered vessel. Symphony sat beside her, teal eyes shadowed with concentration. Chancing a breath, Octavia folded her shaking hands into her lap, lip curling into her mouth as she paused.

"I don't know why I came here."

"You missed Vinyl."

They locked eyes, Octavia the first to break the bewitching spell that surrounded them, ignoring the incessant niggling in the back of her mind, eyes focused on the jockey as she strapped the guitar across her body, fingers stroking the strings. Releasing a painfully unbalanced breath, Octavia shook her head against the building tension in her stomach, eyes screwing shut as more tears crashed through her weakened defenses.

"I have a sneaking suspicion that song is about me and how much of a royal screw up I am."

"That's pretty vain of you, Melody."

"It's true, though, isn't it?"

Symphony sighed and searched the hooded eyes, a small smile stretching her lips.

"Probably. For the past week, Vinyl's been locked in her apartment writing. That song is new, I know. Never heard it before, but the guys pick up new music pretty quickly. I know they've been meeting a few times this week, too. Middle of the night, normally, but Spit demanded a daylight showing."

"All I want to do is go down there and throw my arms around that woman, but I know she'd... well, she wouldn't like it very much."

"Vinyl's cycling. You need to talk to her. You should today, because you're here and because the longer it takes, the less likely it can be fixed."

"I just... want to watch for now."

Symphony sighed heavily but leaned back in her chair, hands moving to slide inside the pockets of her jacket, chilled at the air in the room. Octavia continued to focus her rapt attention on the stage, skin prickling with infinite goosebumps as she watched the musicians fall out of practice and into simple relating.

Vinyl paced the stage, fingers drumming her jawline as the four musicians carefully folded themselves up on the stage, instruments carefully stowed for the moment. Shoulders slumping, Vinyl collapsed on the stage and slid off the trademark lenses, exhausted red eyes hopefully gazing at the band. Muse, the background guitarist, piped up first, knuckles absently thumping on the stage.

"It's great, you know. You finally singing again after all these years."

Stiteler piped up, hands smoothing the soft, moss green mohawk that had drooped from playing so fervently.

"Yeah, what happened? Last we all heard from Bone, you had pretty much given up the music..."

Laughing despite herself, Vinyl shook her head, eyes instantly landing on the wounded look of the stunt pilot, an unspoken agreement rising between them.

"I met a girl and she gave me my voice back. I came out with a pretty shitty trade, though. She gave me my voice and I... I gave her my heart. Don't know what the fuck I was thinking, how can you write music without heart?"

The men merely chuckled at the story, none the wiser of the heart-wrenching truth behind it. Spitfire pinned the DJ with a stirring look, bright eyes swirling with potent commitment. Vinyl bowed her head at the reverie, eyes watering slightly as she forced down the emotion.

Octavia bit her lip at hearing the echo of the words pinch at her emotions, a sour foolishness sweeping through the cellist. Symphony offered silent support, a chilled hand placed expertly over her fellow strings player's wrist, numb digits clamping automatically. The men on stage chuckled and pulled the DJ to her feet, urging her toward the guitar, itching to perform some more. Spitfire climbed to her feet as well, hands wiping nonexistent dirt off the black jeans that clung to all the proper curves.

Octavia watched, emotionally immobilized, eyes staring at the jockey as they fell back into playing. Eventually, Octavia grew restless, chest heaving as a swarm of emotions engulfed her thoughts, choking out her ability to stave off an emotional lapse. Standing quietly, Octavia slowly receded toward the stairs, Symphony hot on her heels. Heading quickly toward the entrance doors, careful to avoid the open theatre doors, Octavia was stopped by the violinist as she tugged the pea coat the woman wore.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

"Talk to her, Octavia."

"I wouldn't know what to say."

"How about 'I'm sorry?'"

Quickly, and with an unknown strength, she pulled Symphony to her, clinging to the violinist before releasing her just as easily.

"I'll fix this. I'm sorry."

Octavia slipped out the door within the same breathe, doors soundlessly falling closed. Symphony blew the bangs from her eyes as she turned and entered the playing area, eyes drawn to the two-tone spinner as she stood at the edge of the stage. Lifting the violet lenses, Vinyl pinned the woman with an impossible look.

"Was... that Octavia?"

Symphony nodded. Vinyl lifted her eyes to look out the open doors of the large room, blue eyebrows knitting painfully.

"Why didn't she stay?"

"You and I both know the answer to that."

Tiredly, Symphony approached the front row of the area and picked up the long forgotten book, tucking it on her lap as she settled in the chair. Vinyl continued to stare out the open doors, red eyes fluttering as she turned to regard her crew.

"Okay, from the top."

Vinyl laughed easily with the boys, the familiar bond renewing almost instantly, even after so many years. They worked in tune with one another as they cleared the stage, the many cords and wires being carefully wrapped and stowed in rolling cases to be moved outside. Four guitars were carefully cased and prepared for moving, the large drum kit packed and shifted toward the large storage area in the back. Vinyl ran a soft cloth over the revered piano, red eyes drowning in thought as she kept her hands moving. Spitfire filled the space beside her in an instant, hand curling around her shoulder as she worked.

"I'm really freakin' proud of you, Scratch."

"Proud of the fact that I'm an emotional wreck with no real understanding of why people say and do the things they do?"

"Mm, yeah, pretty much."

Vinyl smiled at the pilot, an immeasurable sadness spilling forth from the bright red eyes.

"You're such a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, V, but I'm your pain in the ass."

Feeling overcome by the simple statement, Vinyl threw her arms around the neck of the captain and released a shuddering sigh, arms tightening around the shoulders she so desperately clung to.

"I'm really goddamn glad you're home."

It was a whisper, one that Spitfire was sure to have heard correctly. Wrapping her arms around the waist of the jockey, she simply relaxed into the hold and patiently held the fraying jockey as she struggled to swallow the jagged emotion. A swirl of soft words suddenly surrounded the pair as the men moved in for a friendly group hug, drawing a strangled laugh from the jockey as she playfully kicked at a nearby leg.

"Get out of here, friggin' homos."

Laughs aside, Vinyl detached from the pilot and hugged the men in turn, stopping to slug Bone in the arm before curling into his arms.

"I'm really thankful for you guys. Be safe getting home, I'll see yas in a few days for more practice."

Nodding, the boys loaded up the equipment and headed off the stage before disappearing at the top of the aisle. Symphony seemed to materialize next to the stunt pilot, teal eyes warm as she regarded the jockey.

"Ready for home, Scratch?"

"Yeah, and a stiff drink."

Avoiding the half-hearted swing of the pilot's arm, Vinyl headed toward the side steps and began the walk toward the exit doors. Spitfire and Symphony followed close behind, arms interlocked as they easily strolled out into the foyer. Vinyl slid her shouldered bag out of the way as she lifted her fingers to the hidden alarm pad, waiting patiently as she pressed the proper sequence. Signaling for the pair to leave, Vinyl hit the 'Arm' key and scrambled out the front doors behind them. Spinning to lock the massive doors, she pulled on the handles, checking to make sure they were secure before turning toward her bike.

Freezing, the hidden red eyes widened as her vision landed on the practically drenched cellist as she sat, leaning against the seat of her motorcycle. Carmine eyes flicking toward the equally surprised pair, Vinyl licked her lips and strengthened her hold on the bag strap. Spit cleared her throat and steered Symphony toward the car, brown eyes pinning the downcast cellist with a strong gaze. Half-lifting her head, Octavia followed the pair out of the corner of her eye, fingers fiddling with the sleeves of her pea coat.

Flinching at the slamming of the car doors, Octavia squeezed her eyes shut as the large engine rumbled to life, the roaring sound reverberating around the rain-soaked atmosphere. Hearing the car shift, Octavia turned to watch the massive sports car pull slowly into the street before Spitfire pushed the car toward their intended destination. Exhaling the breath she had been holding, Octavia twisted her head forward, mulberry eyes carefully scanning the sodden form of the jockey. The rain fell quietly, menacingly as the two women studied each other, faces unwavering.

Octavia pushed off from the leather seat, body adjusting to the impossibly wet clothes as they clung painfully to her skin, leaving her even more uncomfortable in the tense space. Vinyl adjusted the weight on her back before dropping her hand, molten keys glinting in the low, wet light. Jerking one shoulder, the jockey took an unsteady step forward, mouth twisting in mild displeasure.

"What?"

The question was simple, though Octavia found herself fumbling for an answer. Calming the deafening crash of her rapidly beating pulse, she wordlessly focused her gaze on the DJ.

"I'm sorry."

"That's nice. Move."

Octavia side-stepped as Vinyl shifted, falsely blocking the wide open path. Vinyl sneered, violet lenses hiding the red eyes Octavia so desperately craved. The cellist shook her head and moved again, matching the steps of the jockey.

"Not until we talk."

"I don't have anything to say to you."

"Then maybe you can listen."

The words tumbled out in a quick, nervous jumble, the mulberry eyes igniting with impassioned reverence. She stood, arms down at her sides, body screaming her despair. Vinyl snorted and shook her head, droplets of water dripping easily from the choppy, blue locks before she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Fuck off."

Octavia felt herself flinch at the words, though she remained steady, gaze never wavering from the violet lenses.

"I'm sorry for all that's happened. I'm sorry for hurting you, for lying to you, ignoring you..."

She chanced a step forward, elated when the jockey made no move to flee.

"Vinyl, I was wrong. Wrong about a lot of things. I never meant for any of that to happen. That night at the banquet, I--"

"You hurt me."

The cellist felt her mouth drop open at the simple words, a crushing wave of tears instantly spilling from the glossy amethyst eyes. Octavia nodded and inched closer to the despondent jockey, hands flexing nervously at her sides.

"Yes, I did. I'm so sor--"

"It took every ounce of energy I had not to fucking put you through that wall."

Octavia nodded, lip curling into her mouth. She stopped in her movement, body within touching distance of the tense spinner.

"I know."

It was a whisper, a silent admittance to the treacherous emotional torment that the cellist had imposed upon the sensitive pianist. Octavia shuddered as cold acknowledgement twisted through her gut, choking the already shaking breaths. Mulberry eyes frantically searched the lenses, wishing hopelessly to see past the opaque barrier to the deadly hurt in those deep, ruby eyes. Vinyl shook her head, finally realizing the proximity of the cellist. A burning agony oozed across her shoulders, flaring within the spinner an inner need to flee. Harnessing the pain in her chest, Vinyl shook her head and stepped backward, distancing herself from the woman.

"I wish you knew pain, Octavia. I wish you knew what it meant to have every emotion in your chest ripped out and tortured, one by one, right in front of your eyes. I wish I knew how to stop drowning in you."

Octavia bit her lip, attempting to keep the breath-taking hurt at bay. Vinyl shook her head and attempted to skirt around the crippled cellist but was stopped by hopeless fingers twisting in the cloth of her rain-soaked jacket.

"I will not go away, Vinyl."

"You're not welcome here anymore."

Gaining confidence, Octavia lifted her eyes to focus on the dripping lenses, mouth turning in an agonized smile.

"If you think for one moment that I will let you slip away from me, you are sadly mistaken. I once devoted my life to my craft, and now I will devote all of my passion and energy into fixing this, fixing you. Because that is what you do when you hurt those closest to you, when you hurt the people you--"

Vinyl shook her head and carefully removed herself from the cellist, jaw tightly clenched.

"If you need to be forgiven to move on, then fine. Forgiven. Fucking disappear, Octavia. You're not worth all of this agony."

Vinyl ruptured the bubble around them as she darted passed the cellist, free hand snatching up the helmet. Straddling the massive machine, Vinyl secured the chinstrap to her helmet before resettling the weight at her back. Octavia smoothly approached and grabbed the DJ's arm, mulberry eyes glowing.

"You cannot hide from me forever, Scratch."

Growling, Vinyl slid the glasses from her eyes, the heart-stopping edge in those red eyes instantly annihilating the cellist.

"I don't intend to hide. I intend on forgetting ever fucking meeting you in this fucking building all those fucking months ago. Best of fucking luck, Melody."

Vinyl pulled out on the street a moment later, throttle rumbling as she tore off down the block. Octavia remained stock still for a moment, a despairing emotion spinning in her head. Clenching her jaw, she stuffed her hands in her pocket and started walking, water-splashed face twisting as she walked.

"We will get past this."

Vinyl continued cursing colorfully under her breath as she stalked down the hallway before bursting through the familiar door, startling the two occupants of the apartment as they quickly broke apart, fumbling for cover. Spitfire merely grumbled and fell back to resting against the sofa, shirt missing, jeans slightly askew. Symphony torched the occupied DJ with a bitter glare, arms crossed against her chest, face colored in a light blush. Huffing, the violinist stooped to pick up her discarded shirt and slipped back into it before smoothing the tousled hair and approached the pacing jockey.

Ripping the slick glasses from her face, Vinyl caught the violinist with a damaged gaze, red eyes glazed and unfocused. It was obvious the spinner had been crying, and Symphony quickly reached a hand out to help comfort the frazzled nerves of her old friend.

"Hey, Vinyl, sweetie... calm down. Talk. What happened?"

Frowning at the words, Vinyl skated around the woman and began pacing in between the kitchen and living area, finally stopping as her eyes landed on the clearly irritated, disorderly pilot lying half-dressed on the sofa. Vinyl cracked a guilty smile, eyes filtering back up to focus on Symphony as she stood, hands at her hips.

"Sorry."

Spitfire absently waved her off, deep sigh escaping as she curled an arm under her head, brown eyes grazing the jockey's tense frame.

"What'd Octavia say?"

"What the fuck didn't Octavia say?"

Vinyl sat heavily on the floor, drenched clothing sliding awkwardly along as the DJ settled. Symphony approached the couch and sat in the space where her lover's legs had just been, casually pulling a shapely calf into her lap as she studied the blue-haired musician.

"Talk to me, V, tell me how to help."

Vinyl snapped her orbs back up to the calm violinist, eyes again watering before she ground her palms against the scratchy orbs, a rasping cry escaping the trembling lips.

"She said that she was sorry, that she wouldn't go away, that she would fucking devote all of her time and passion and whatever the hell else into fixing her fuck up."

Both the relaxed women frowned, the uneasiness enough to draw Spitfire up to be seated on the couch. Leaning her elbows on her knees, Spit dipped forward.

"'k, and what'd you say?"

"I basically told her to screw off."

The pianist chuckled humorlessly at the words, the bitterness standing out painfully against the red eyes. Symphony lamented, eyes slipping closed as her fingers mindlessly rubbed at her forehead.

"You've been wanting to talk to Octavia for--"

"Yeah, and then I actually fucking talked to Octavia. All I could fucking think about was her face that night. It made my blood boil. I mean, how freaking dare she just think apologizing could fix that!?"

"Didn't you say she was devoting her time and energy into fixing this?"

Pinning the pilot with a venomous snarl, Vinyl balled her fists and gently placed them against the warm hardwood.

"Do you really believe that?"

Holding the fiery gaze, Spitfire simply nodded.

"Yeah, kinda."

Eyes slitting in confusion, Vinyl climbed to her feet and edged toward the boorish pilot.

"Where the hell is that coming from, Spit."

Symphony squeezed the woman's hand before regarding the unbalanced spinner.

"Vinyl, calm down."

"I will not calm down. What the hell is going on here? Are you guys on Team Octavia all of a sudden?"

"No, I'm just trying to get you to think for a damn minute."

Vinyl swayed, nostrils flaring as a potent fury began to fester in her veins, boiling to an unavoidable magnitude.

"Think about what? That I could have kissed her today and didn't? That she looked at me with such determination, that I might actually believe she wanted to fix us? Because I'd rather fucking not think about that."

Surprised, the violinist was on her feet in an instant, hands grasping the jockey's arms in a vice-like grip.

"What happened?"

"I already told you. Shit got too real and I had to leave. I'm terrified of that because I'm afraid of getting hurt if I let her back in. She said that I was close to her and that she'd never stop trying to fix this. I demanded she disappear and said she wasn't worth the agony. I'm immersed in her. And it fucking terrifies me."

Spitfire stood as well, bare feet padding quietly on the floor as she approached the entrenched woman, eyes alight with careful understanding.

"You're really dumb, you know that?"

Jerking back at the words, the shock was quickly replaced with blazing irritation, the red eyes storming with brutish annoyance.

"What the hell, Spit?"

"You finally get your chance to be open and honest with the cellist and you fucking bottle up and bolt. You don't run. You stand and fight. You make yourself crazy over her performing. You put up with the Canterlot Elite to make sure she has a date to an important event. You stay up during your sleep time to take her out for a day on the town after a stressful week. You fumble over your appointments so you don't miss her shows. So who the hell is this spineless imbecile standing here, telling me that she ran away from a goddamn cellist?"

Vinyl felt her eye twitch, simply dumbfounded at the small speech. Smiling ruefully, the jockey wiped at an errant tear before laughing, the incensed motion causing her to crumple to the floor, mouth suspended in quiet surprise. Spitfire hauled the jockey to her feet and hugged her, strong arms enveloping the woman in heated comfort.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment and go find Octavia."

Pulling the jockey away, she squeezed her once before letting her go, gently pushing her in the direction of the door. Eyes lifting to regard Symphony, she nodded at the lazy smile she saw there. Vinyl approached the door and deftly opened it, pausing for a minute to throw a lasting look at the couple before disappearing out the door. Symphony looked over at the smug pilot, teal eyes darkening as she gently pushed the pilot back to sitting on the couch. Slipping between parted knees, Symphony absently brushed her hand over the soft peaks of the wild orange hair, teal eyes glistening.

"That was so unbelievably hot."

Vinyl piloted the bike to a quiet stop, having cut the engine before getting too close to the imposing structure. Flipping down the kickstand, Vinyl tilted the bike to rest on the thick support before flipping her leg over to stand. Pulling off the helmet, she slung it over the handlebars and stood beside the bike, eyes looking up at the sixth story row of windows dotting the landmark. She remained, frozen to her spot, for an impossible amount of time, the rain having turned colder as the daylight finally flickered out. Forcing the frigid hands into the damp pockets, Vinyl pushed off from the curb and headed toward the building.

Inside the foyer, she shook the stubborn droplets from her hair, body suppressing a shiver as she felt a tickle in the back of her throat. Breathing into the pale hands, Vinyl slowly approached the elevators, finger lifting to press the button before having too much to process it. She was in the elevator and moving upward before she realized, startled when the heavy, metal doors opened beside her. Stalking out into the hallway, Vinyl nervously looked around, a distracting heat pouring down from her scalp, a certain uneasiness pooling in her skull.

Inching slowly forward, Vinyl felt her thoughts wander, fragments of memories skipping across her mind's eyes. Realizing she had completed her journey, Vinyl stared blankly at the bold numbers, the familiar sight of them burning hotly in her brain. A well-worn memory skittered across her focus, the all-too familiar voice of her mother echoing loudly in her ears.

Follow your heart, wherever it may lead you.

Sliding the lenses from her eyes, Vinyl cast her eyes downward, a familiar fire burning from deep within her chest. Pieces of the past few months bounced around her brain, eyes softening with each new image. The jostling of a knob broke her focus, eyes snapping up to stare at the door as it suddenly swung open, the vision of the cellist fully visible. Surprised, the tear-stained cellist licked her lips, the motion drawing the intense focus of the jockey.

"Vin--"

The jockey surged forward, hands tangling in the raven locks as she pulled the cellist forward, mouths crashing together in a heated dance, lips sliding roughly against the cellist's as she eagerly returned the frenzied embrace. Hands lifting, Octavia curled her fingers around perfect hips, rolling their bodies together in the small space of the hallway. Vinyl pulled away a moment later, chest heaving against the player, head spinning at the incredible taste of the woman on her lips. Almost panting against the bruised mouth, Octavia threaded her hand through the wild hair, lips brushing the DJ's in silent adoration.

"I love you."

Author's Notes:

First and foremost, thank you to all of my friends, new and old, for supporting me and my story so whole-heartedly. The comments, the likes, the groups... it's all so much, but thank you so very much! IT ALL HAPPENED SO QUICKLY, OH GOD THE PRESSURE. So, uh... onward: I was told to ask how to handle this, seeing if it'd be a good choice for sex or not, depending on how people felt. I might have to change the rating anyway, considering Vinyl curses like a sailor. I hope this chapter's worth it, I'm sorry it's so late. Be thankful, though! X&Y came out today, so you're super lucky I wrote at all. Excuse mistakes! Happy Saturday night!

PS: Thanks for giving my little dog and pony show over 100 favorites!