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Alex and Nicky weren't sure how this course of events was supposed to turn out. However, they were both confident that this wasn't it. It was still before lunch, his first full day in America, and already Nicky's world was crumbling around him. Alex felt no better, having taken a chance with opening up just a bit to Nicky and now that was to be torn apart.

"What the fuck are we going to do?" asked Alex.

"How the bleeding hell should I know?" replied Nicky unnecessarily to the obviously rhetorical question.

"We just have to think of something," whined Alex piteously.

"We will. I have to relax to think. If you don't mind, I think I'll play my flute for a few minutes. It helps me clear my mind."

"Go ahead."

Nicky reached into his backpack and found the case that contained his flute. He opened it and picked up the short pieces, caressing them in his hands. The wood was warm to his touch as it always was, fine-grained and well-oiled. The silver keys and fittings were well-polished from years of contact with his fingertips. He opened the small tin of cork grease and applied it to the joints with his little finger, so he wouldn't get grease on the keys later. The flute pieces fit together smoothly, joined to each other almost seamlessly.

The look on Nicky's face became calm, serene, a sharp contrast to the agitation he had shown moments before; his blue eyes deeply engaged in the task at hand. With all the events that happened since England he had pushed the instrument out of his mind for a time. Now, however, it was time to bring it out and let it breathe again. He needed to play. The flute also needed to be played.

The pieces were together, and Nicky turned them slightly, adjusting the holes to line up perfectly. He raised the flute to his lips, closed his eyes, and inhaled slightly, and began to play. The sounds of classical music began to flow around the house. Nicky was fond of classical music, and Purcell's Music for the Funeral of Queen Mary began to fill the air with melodious and profoundly depressing notes. Although it wasn't a perfect piece for a flute, Nicky certainly made it work.

Amanda stopped what she was doing in the kitchen to listen to the music as it wrapped around her. What a wonderful CD Alex is listening to. I didn't know he liked classical music, she thought to herself.

Eric was in the living room, fuming silently to himself while he watched the sports wrap-up on ESPN as the music floated down. Odd. I thought Amanda was in the kitchen. Sounds like she's gone upstairs and put on a CD. I wonder if she's in the mood. He was hopeful. He got up, noticed Amanda still in the kitchen, furrowed his brow, and wondered, with no small irritation, why Alex would listen to classical music. Then, he sat back down at the TV, turning the volume up slightly.

Alex sat there listening in rapt attention. The music was calming, almost magical in nature as it flowed through the house like air, filling the pores of his very being with a calming, musical salve.

Nicky played for close to an hour, ending with a piece Alex had never heard.

"What was that last piece?" asked Alex as Nicky put away the flute.

"Something I wrote. No name, no words, just melody."

"It's stupendous."

"Thanks. Anyway, now that I've calmed down, we have to decide what to do. Here's how I see it. The odds of my father showing up to look for me grow with every day we spend here. I have two more days to do this before he'd come, so I don't expect we're in any danger until then. However, I can't be taken by the British embassy and that's only one more day. That will create immense problems since that will force them to call my father, if they already haven't. We have to go somewhere."

"Well, I know where we can go that we won't be noticed."

"Where?"

"As I see it, if we went back to London, it would work. After all, your father would be over here looking for you. And we'd be there. Maybe it'd give us time to figure out how to appease him or something."

"The logistics of going back to England are next to impossible. We're minors, we have almost no income, and right now your face is very well recognized. I don't know how well that would work."

"We can't just stay here and hope for the best. That's suicide. For both of us."

"Would any of your friends here help us?"

"I don't have any friends. At least not any real friends I'd trust with my life. I thought we discussed that. That's what we'd be doing, you know. We'd be trusting someone with my life and yours." Alex thought if any of his friends were that trustworthy. Only Delos was a possibility.

"Alex, I can't stay. I can't. I have to go. My father won't touch you here. I'm the only one in danger. If I stay, I'll die. I have to leave before the embassy comes for me tomorrow."

They sat in silence, each with his own thoughts, neither brave enough to vocalize the hurt they were feeling.

Finally, Alex spoke. "Why don't I show you around at least? No sense in wasting today. After all, it's not even lunch yet. We might as well have fun together while it lasts." Alex nearly choked on the last sentence as he spoke it.

"I guess. I always heard this was a great town. It's got to be better than sitting around here, wallowing in misery."

"Let me go ask if we can get a ride." Alex got up and went downstairs to speak to his mother. Asking his father would be a bad idea. He knew that. His mother was always more cooperative.

"Mom! Mom?"

"What is it, dear?"

"Can we get a ride to the city? I want to show Nicky around before he has to go back."

"I don't think that's a good idea, son," said his father who appeared behind him.

"Why? I mean, where can two kids possibly go? I'll make sure we're back by dark. I promise."

"I want your personal word that you'll come back, not just a promise." Eric decided having them out doing something was better than standing guard over them. Besides, what trouble could they get into?

"Yeah, ok. Sure."

"I'll drop you off at the Colma BART station. You'll have to take the train the rest of the way in. When you head back, call me before you get on the train so I can leave to pick you up."

"Thanks! I mean that," said Alex, running upstairs to tell Nicky the good news.

Five minutes later they were in the car on the way to the BART station. Eric said nothing while Alex ran off at the mouth about the various things they passed along the way to the train station. Less than a half-hour later, they arrived.

Alex showed Nicky the BART station briefly. Nicky was amazed at how hi-tech it was compared to the Underground: automated, computerized ticket machines, architecture that was sleek, modern, and sterile. As exciting as it was, it also lacked a personality. Yet it made Nicky oddly homesick. They boarded a train at the platform. "We're going to take this down to Powell Street. That's as good a place as any to start the tour."

Another twenty minutes passed, all of it with idle chit-chat. They disembarked onto the platform, and made their egress onto Powell Street. Nicky stopped and stared at the fabled cable cars of San Francisco.

"I suppose you'll be wanting to go for a ride on one, won't you?" inquired Alex looking at Nicky's enthralled face. He was used to it. Every person he'd every shown around town fell in love with the cable cars instantly. Most people fell in love with the town, but even the few who didn't loved the cable cars. San Francisco had earned a reputation as possibly the most romantic city in the world, second only to, perhaps, Paris. Nicky's face proved it.

"Oh! Could we? Please? I'd like it very much!" enthused Nicky.

"Sure!" said Alex, nearly excited as Nicky. Though this was an everyday occurrence to him, the novelty never wore off. Alex went to the machine and purchased two tickets while Nicky secured a place in line. It was a good fifteen minute wait for a ride. There was always a line.

Nicky positively beamed as they boarded the cable car, and the gripman engaged the cable. The car began its roll down Powell Street. They began the ride through Chinatown, and upwards towards the top of the hill.

They reached the crest of the hill and stopped for passengers.

At the crest of the hill was perhaps one of the most amazing views of the American continent. Below them was the San Francisco Bay on one side, the Pacific Ocean on the other. Fog stood, a silent wall, not far off shore, always ready to roll in. Around them were the many districts of the city, all plainly in view, from the Presidio to the Tenderloin to the Embarcadero to Golden Gate Park. Landmarks from the glorious Fairmont Hotel, the Oakland Bay Bridge, to the Queen of all great bridges and one of the modern wonders of the world, the Golden Gate Bridge. In the distance loomed Mount Tamalpais, under which was the city of Sausalito. Over the bay the Berkeley hills stood tall, the Campanile of the Berkeley Campus clearly visible. Around the Bay, were dozens of ships sailing and steaming, their crews doing their mundane tasks in a fantastically gorgeous setting.

And fifteen seconds later, the cable car began its roll downward towards Fisherman's Wharf, the gripman steadying the car to keep it from an uncontrolled careen down the hill.

"It's brilliant! Fantastic! How could you ever leave this place even for a second?" asked Nicky loudly. He was clearly besotted. The locals on the cable car wore bemused grins. He would be neither the first nor last visitor to fall in love with this city.

"Hey, kid," said an older gentleman with a friendly smile. "You know what they say about this town, don't you?"

"What?"

"Herb Caen used to say, 'I'm going to do what every San Franciscan does who goes to Heaven. I'll look around and say 'It's not bad, but it ain't San Francisco.' Most of us who live here feel that way. Glad to see you like it here." He then returned to his conversation.

As the cable car rolled to a stop, Alex jumped off, followed by everyone else on the car. Nicky was the last to leave, his mind lost somewhere far away, his face frozen in a silly grin.

"That was so amazing! Thank you so much for suggesting this," said Nicky, grabbing Alex in a huge, enthusiastic, warm hug. Alex reciprocated automatically, without even noticing ­ the first time in memory he hugged someone without feeling uncomfortable about it. Perhaps in any other city, two teen males hugging on the street in a public place might have caused pause or comment, but not here.

Alex and Nicky walked around Fisherman's Wharf, then on to Chinatown, then up to Coit Tower. Once they got to the Embarcadero, they took the California Street cable car to Van Ness and walked down Union Street. They stopped in a little Italian restaurant called Prego. Nicky thought it was one of the finest meals he had ever eaten. Alex told him in no uncertain terms almost every meal in San Francisco was like that. Alex was nothing short of exuberant when in tour guide mode, and Nicky's willing acquiesence encouraged him even more.

After eating Alex said, "I have one last surprise for you. We don't have that much time left before we go back, and there's so much to do."

They got into a cab at Alex's insistence, and Alex then whispered some instructions to the driver. The cabbie smiled, and took off. Within seconds, they were winding their way down Lombard Street, the crookedest street in the world. Nicky smiled as soon as they got there, for he knew it as soon as he saw it; he'd seen photographs before. Like all photographs, the real thing was better.

"Nice surprise, Alex"

"That wasn't the surprise," he said with mischievous grin.

The cabbie sped along towards Alex's destination. Because the Presidio's vast foliage was blocking their view, Nicky didn't know where they were going until suddenly they drove out of the cover of the trees and before them was the majesty of the Golden Gate Bridge.

"Wow!" said Nicky, quite predictably echoing the first word of everyone upon encountering the bridge their first time.

The cabbie pulled off to the side in the parking area. Alex handed the cabbie some money and whispered some more.

"You sure, kid? It's expensive to keep me waiting."

"Yeah, as sure as I've ever been about anything."

"You're the boss."

Alex and Nicky got out. Nicky was totally oblivious to the conversation with the cabbie. He was standing around gawking at the sight of the bridge. "Wow!"

"Nicky, I think you said that before."

"Wow," said Nicky, this time deliberately.

"Smart ass," muttered Alex. "Come on, let's go."

"Go? We just got here," said Nicky, a slight whine to his voice.

"That's not what I mean. Come with me," said Alex as he led Nicky by the hand. They walked out onto the bridge, about halfway across, then stopped. Alex turned Nicky by the shoulders to face out over the water.

"What do you think, Nicky?"

"It's beautiful, Alex. It really is."

"When you're home, you'll always have this memory. Maybe one day you'll forget me, but nobody could ever forget this. I want you to have something so special that you can hold onto it no matter what. I know, you'll say you won't forget me, but people drift apart over time, and one day I'll be a distant memory. This view, this moment, will always be there, and it will never fade."

"Alex, please don't say that. I'll never forget you. Ever. We'll be friends forever. It will happen. I'll figure a way. I promise."

"I guess we'd better go or we'll be late," said Alex, rather than comment on what Nicky had said.

The cabbie, true to his word, was waiting.

"Take us to the nearest BART station, please."

"Sure enough, kiddo. I guess that'd be the Civic Center station."

It was a solid thirty minute drive. Alex and Nicky sat there in silence staring at each other surreptitiously, hoping the other didn't notice the stolen glances. Their time together was getting shorter, and shorter, and shorter.

"We're here, guys."

Alex looked at the meter, shocked by the huge amount shown. That would wipe him out. Good thing, he was probably going to be grounded with no chance of ever spending money, anyway. Nicky had already exited the cab, as Alex fished the rest of his money out of his wallet, beginning to worry he might not even have enough left to pay for the ride.

"Naw, kid, this part's on me. It's nice to see two people in love."

"Thanks!" said Alex, not bothering to correct the cabbie because the comment didn't register. Subconsciously, he noticed it, but his conscious mind remained unaware. "Thanks a lot! Really!"

Alex called his house from the BART station, and when his mom answered, told her that they were on the way back. They boarded the train, and sat together. Alex noticed the contact. Nicky noticed the contact. Neither made any effort to break it. Their time together grew shorter and shorter.

They arrived at their destination, Eric picked them up and took them home. They arrived just in time for dinner.