Time, always time. Time is a healer, time is all you need to make all the badness go away. Everyone said that time was her greatest friend right now. What they hadn't said was that time was not a luxury she was allowed.

Kaylee cried. She cried on her way home; she cried through the back door and sneaking into her bedroom; she cried while filling a bag with clothes and everything she would need to get away. She didn't want to see anyone. If she did, she knew she would end up being talked into staying again, and that hadn't worked out well for anyone.

She'd told Correy she hated him. She would never forgive herself for that. It wasn't even true, not entirely. She hated that he had joked about to the point where her heart was ripped out and trampled on. But she didn't hate him. She couldn't hate her little brother, no matter what he did.

Sagging to her knees in the midst of the mess she had made of her bedroom, she swallowed hard, dripping salt water from the end of her nose and chin over everything that surrounded her.

"I'm sorry," she rasped, her voice thick and painful in her throat. "I'm so, so sorry ..."

Nothing had been right since she'd foolishly shown her cards. Everything she touched went wrong, ended up hurting someone more than ever. She couldn't play nice with Correy and Jon without seeing something that made her ache, or having Correy's teasing cut a little too close to home, whether that was his intention or not. She just couldn't do this anymore.

Her journal was grabbed, a pen with it, and she scribbled furiously for long minutes, tears wetting the page and making the ink run. When she was done, she tore the page out, leaving it on top of the mess that was her bed.

Dragging herself to her feet, she hitched her bag over her shoulder, walking on leaden feet to the door. From down the hall, she could hear Jon calling to Correy, but the sound only made her tears resume. Whatever was happening down there was entirely her fault. It would be better for everyone when she wasn't here anymore.

She closed the door quietly, sneaking back down the back stairs and out into the night. And behind her, waiting for someone to find it, was that tear-splattered note, written in haste and love.

For Correy

I'm sorry. I know it's just words and they don't seem to mean anything any more, but I really, truly am sorry. I don't hate you, I could never hate you. You're the best thing in my life, little brother. I hate myself for making you hurt.

Everything's gone wrong, and I'm just making it worse. So I'm heading out. I have money that I've saved, and I know a bit about looking out for myself. I won't be gone forever, I promise. I'll come back, when I'm sorted out and not so much trouble anymore.

Don't you ever forget that I love you, Cog. You're my best friend, and I'm happy that you're with someone you can love and who loves you in return. Be happy, and I'll be back before you know it.

Love you, Kaylee

For nearly fifteen years, Oliver had been getting up at 5:30, six mornings a week. He rolled out of bed, laced up his running shoes, and did six miles. After showering and breakfast, he slipped on a pair of sweats, taped up his hands, and spent some time keeping himself at the peak of physical perfection. He did 150 sit-ups and press-ups, jumped rope for half an hour and then spent a while with the heavy bag, the speed bag, and shadow boxing.

When the knock came at his door that morning, he thought at first that it was another icicle falling from the roof and thudding against the floor boards of the porch. But then he heard a voice - he thought it sounded like Kaylee's, in fact - and stopped beating the snot out of Junior's imaginary face on the heavy bag. He grabbed a towel, wiped the sweat off his bare chest, and went to the door.

He yanked it open - it seemed to swell in the moist air - and blinked out at the rather bedraggled and wet figure of his cousin. Apparently, he hadn't been imagining hearing her voice. He glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see...Caroline, Correy, Jon' Who knows" "Kaylee?" he said in a bewildered tone. "What are you doing here?" She had never, ever shown even the slightest interest in visiting him before this. His manners caught up with his mouth eventually, and he stepped back, reaching for her bag. "Come in. It's freezing out there, and you're soaked."

Once she was inside and the door was closed, he brought out a couple of towels and then glanced around the loft. It was a disaster area - dishes, clothes, towels, books tossed around willy-nilly. Rags soaked with turpentine and linseed oil had been dumped in a metal trash can that sat next to stacks of canvases waiting to be wiped clean and reused. Two easels stood with half-finished commissions and a third easel sat nearest the hearth, holding a canvas with the penciled outline of a female figure in repose.

Ollie took in the mess and coloured. "Sorry. Uh," he ran over to the couch and shifted a pile of shirts off it and deposited them on his bed. "Sit down. Please. Want some tea or something?"

Not going back to the Grove. Ollie could definitely sympathise with her feelings on that particular subject. He filled the kettle and set it on the hob to heat. "It's all right, Kay," he said, his mind racing at a thousand miles an hour. What had happened" Why had she shown up on his doorstep" Whatever had happened, it must have been very serious to have her seeking shelter with him.

He grabbed a t shirt off the top of the pile closest to his bed " that was currently his clean clothing pile " and slipped it on before going and sitting down across from her. "So," he said, clearing his throat and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his long fingers together. "You're here and I'm assuming you want to stay for a while. That's fine; I welcome the company. I want you here," he said with a quick flash of what he hoped looked like a comforting smile. "It's been just me and Poppy for six months now, and although I love that featherbrain, she isn't exactly the greatest company. But, Kay," he paused and shoved a hand through his shock of raven's wing hair. "If you've....If you've done something that you're hiding from," he said hesitantly, his mind filled with visions of her having stolen something or killed someone or something equally horrible, "you have to...you know...own up to it. I'll help you however I can, of course. But you have to fix it."

He was relatively certain that the last thing she wanted to hear from him right now was a lecture so he lapsed into silence for a moment, studying her face silently, giving her time to collect herself. The kettle shrilled and he popped up out of the chair and went to fix them cups of tea, throwing together a quick breakfast for her, as well, in case she hadn't eaten for a while. There was two slices of thick, crusty bread, some of Marta's summer strawberry preserves, a winter pear and of course, the tea. He carried everything over to where she was sitting and put it down on the small table next to her, managing to knock a large spiral-shaped seashell off the surface in the doing. After fussing with the tea for a moment, he sat down in his chair across from her once more and leaned forward, his hawkish blue eyes intent on her face. "Tell me what happened."

He sat back in his chair, crossed one stork-like leg over the other, resting his ankle on his knee, and listened intently to his cousin " both to what she was saying and what she wasn't saying. A couple of times, the corner of his mouth tugged up in a near approximation of a smile, but for the most part, he kept his features neutral.

When she was finished speaking, he took a sip of tea, which gave him time to get his thoughts in order. Kay was in a very fragile state and he didn't want to say anything that might hurt her or drive her off. Despite the fact that they had never been close, Ollie felt more than a little responsible for the girl and he could only imagine the crushing disappointment on Lala Bean's face if she found out her mean brother had driven off another Granger cousin who was in obvious distress.

"First off, Kay, you can stay here as long as you want. Don't feel you need to be in a rush to get out of my hair. Like I said, I want you to stay, all right?" He gave her a reassuring smile, one that he actually felt. Truth be told, he was rather excited about the idea of having her around. It was time he pulled his head out of his shell and...what was it that Cally had said" Something about getting to know people and giving them a chance. There was no better chance than the one currently soaking his couch cushions.

"Second of all..." And here was where he needed to step lightly. The situation with Jon and Correy was just...out of control. He sat forward, placing both feet on the floor and raking his hand through his thatch of hair again. "God, Kay. I'm really not the best person to talk to when it comes to this stuff. I haven't been in a relationship with anyone since Lily, and even that was just....It was pretty tame. But..." He paused for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. "It seems to me that the three of you all love each other very much and because of that love, you tip-toe around and try not to hurt one another. Granted, that's a very admirable thing to do, but sometimes, it's even more selfish than letting loose and unloading your feelings." He glanced up at Kay, wondering if he was making himself clear.

"Look, you have every right to what you're feeling. Just as they have every right to what they're feeling. And....And you have every right to not like what they've done to you. They hurt you, they betrayed you. But....They did not do it on purpose, Kay. They didn't set out to hurt you. Correy's your little brother, for God's sake. I imagine he feels for you the same way I feel for Lola and I would sooner rip my own heart out than hurt her." He gave her a soft smile, hoping that she was understanding what he was trying to tell her. "Cut them both some slack. They're both boys and boys are idiots. Let them be in love; be happy for them. They deserve it. And you....You'll find someone and you can rub it in both of their faces then. But for now...be the bigger person."

He sat back again and sighed. He wondered idly if this was what being a father was like. "And Kay, you can't just run away from this. And if you left before this was all sorted, that's exactly what you'd be doing. You'd be running away. No one would be better off if you weren't around. Not Jon, not Corr, and most especially not you. You gotta suck it up and stick it out. It'll be sorted in time, which I know is empty and horrible to hear, but it will. You'll see." He paused and put on his best stern face. "And you have to tell someone where you are, so they don't worry. If you want, we can phone up Lola and you can tell her. But someone other than you and I have to know or we'll never hear the end of it."

"Please. Those puppy dog eyes aren't going to work on me. Have you seen my sister?" Lola had long since learned that Ollie was firmly wrapped around her finger and it was a testament to her goodness that she didn't use this ability for evil. "We'll tell Lola that you're here, but that you don't want to see anyone. She can handle telling the others."

Then he put on his serious, I'm a grown-up and now I'm going to lecture you face. "Jon is an actor," he said with ironic intent. "He's been one since birth. Pay no attention whatsoever to his moods. Half the time I suspect they're put on anyway." He let the subject drop, not wanting to say anything negative about Jon, who had been his best friend for most of his life. "Stop trying to please other people. It's never going to happen. You can't make others happy all the time, no matter how hard you try. You've just got to make yourself happy and that will be enough. Trust me on this."

He leaned forward again and reached for one of her hands. Taking it between both of his, he rubbed some heat into those cold, cold fingers and his face softened. "I need to ask you something and you must promise that you'll think long and hard about the answer. Are you happy, Kay' Really, truly happy' And I'm not talking about right now, 'cos it's obvious to any lackwit with half a brain that you're miserable. I'm talking about with your life as a whole, with your friends and the...boys...you spend time with. Are you happy?"

He shook his head, his heart breaking for Kaylee. "It's not wrong," he told her in a soft voice. He was all too familiar with the situation she was describing. Junior had made it well known from the time Ollie was five or six what his future would be like. He'd go to Uni, earn a PhD in International Finance, and come back to GG and rule his department with an iron fist. He'd replace Humphrey when the Old Man retired. He'd marry the right girl, have two children " a boy and a girl, of course " and then he'd spend his life grooming his own son to take over when he stepped aside.

Only, Ollie didn't want any of that. He hated numbers, the way they were so cold and concrete and left no wiggle room. He hated finance, tricking people into believing there was more money in their bank accounts than there really was. He hated GG, the way that it had taken over his entire life and was slowly sucking the desire to be and do something different out of him.

When he was seven years old, his mother had given him a box of crayons and a few sheets of paper to keep him occupied while she was at a friend's house, and it was then that Ollie discovered art. He begged to be given private art lessons and Junior indulged him until he was thirteen, but then the lessons stopped, because as Junior said, "You no longer have time for that nonsense." Ollie was pushed into other pursuits, but he never forgot the freedom of drawing and sculpting and painting " the freedom of expressing in images what he couldn't in words. Every night, after his school work was done, he would go to his room and sit at his easel for hours. His mother's bedroom was covered with his work, everything from the stick figure horses and dogs of his first forays into drawing to the copies he did of famous Earth artists like da Vinci, Botticelli, Monet, and Titian.

He gave Kay a sad smile, his thoughts coming back to the here and now. "It's time you stopped living your life for other people, Kay." He stood up and reached for her hand again, dragging her from the couch and pointing her to the loft's single bathroom. "You want to make a go at your music" Then do it. Go to Los Angeles, or New York, or stay here. But stop hiding from what makes you truly happy." He gave her a gentle shove. "Go get warm and dry and clean and then we'll form a battle plan." He almost kissed the crown of her head like he always did with Lola, but stopped at the last instant. Instead, he gripped her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "And don't use up all the hot water."