Heath and MJ were finishing their tour in New York City, taking a metaphorical victory lap, as it were, by renting a huge boat and having an open lottery for winners to join them on board for a free acoustic concert, just Heath, MJ, and their guitars, as the boat circled Manhattan in the brisk September evening. The people who had money to spend, of course, were livid that the lottery was free to enter, and that their money wouldn't buy them anything. The people who lived too far away to be there in time, were furious that geography gave the who lived in the NYC area an unfair advantage.

There was no pleasing everyone.

They had found time to fly from Philadelphia to Chicago for Carter and Meredith's allocutions, which were very, very unusual, considering their no contest pleas. Generally, nolo contendere pleas didn't require allocutions, and judges didn't enforce requests for them, but in this case, Judge Rogan had found the defendants' behavior to be so reprehensible that she had decided that allocutions would be enforced.

Both Carter and Meredith had stood and faced the judge while telling what they had done, and apologizing for their misdeeds. MJ had found it odd that they'd apologized to the judge, instead of to her and Heath, but perhaps it made sense, since the crimes were tried by the District Attorney, who represented the people.

Both Carter and Meredith had expressed "sincere" remorse, with Meredith weeping copious tears while her parents looked on. Next to them stood Carter's parents, arm in arm and stoically silent. None of the parents spared MJ or Heath a glance.

The day after the allocutions, MJ heard through Heath's lawyer, who was her lawyer, too, in this matter, that Meredith had dropped her lawsuit regarding the rights to "Calliope's Lament," and was prepared to turn over all royalties the song had earned for her.

MJ quickly registered the song in her name, along with the other eleven she'd registered so far, and told her production team that she was finished recording for her first album.

"Oh god, Heath, this is so fun," MJ exclaimed, looking out at Manhattan from the boat, along with hundreds of fans, who were thrilled to be there with Heath and MJ. They'd all had an amazing buffet dinner, posed for countless selfies, and had a hilarious question and answer period which had embarrassed Heath to no end.

"I'm glad you're having a good time, darling," Heath answered, pulling her in for a squeeze.

"Heath?" one brave fan asked. "How much longer before we head back?"

"Well, I think we're going back round now, actually," he said.

This was met with groans from the people who could hear him.

"I'm sorry, but we can't just circle the island forever, right?" Heath said with a laugh.

"And are you really staying with Charlie McAllister?"

"Yeah, we are," Heath said with a smile.

"And is Johnny really there with you?"

"Yeah, he is," MJ answered this time, with an even bigger smile.

"Oh, you're so lucky," another girl gushed.

"I know," MJ answered.

"Hey, I'm standing right here," Heath said, poking MJ with an elbow.

"Oh, are you?" she answered, feigning surprise. "Well well well, so you are," she said, mussing his hair.

"Heath, I love your long hair," another fan put in. "Are you going to leave it?"

"Well, I was, since someone professed to like it this way," Heath said, looking sideways at MJ. "However, she seems to have lost interest in me of late, so now I'm not so sure."

"Oh, no, Heath, you have to leave it, it looks amazing on you," all the girls around him began to clamor. "It's nearly long enough to put in a bun, then you can match Charlie!"

"Or Pete Santangelo," someone else added.

"Is that what this is about? You want me to look like Charlie?" Heath asked. He put his hands on his heart. "My ego is taking a serious bruising over here, girls."

"Besides," MJ added, smiling wickedly, "he could never look like Pete Santangelo--"

Heath turn huge eyes on MJ, his look one of sheer disbelief. He pretended to stab himself. "All you women hate me," he declared dramatically. "I'm throwing myself overboard, right here, right now."

A chorus of feminine voices rose to protest and deny his words, and hands came out of nowhere to grab at him was he laughed.

"Oh my god," someone said. Her voice carried simply because it was so serious in a sea of laughing, lilting, lighthearted tones.

"What?" Heath asked, turning toward the girl who had spoken. She was a blonde with her hair in a high, curly pony tail. Her eyes flicked to MJ, who was also looking at her in concern. She held her phone out to both of them, as the deck suddenly got quiet.

TAPE OF MEADOW RAIN'S HARROWING ATTACK AT HANDS OF CARTER HOLMES AND MEREDITH RENNER!

"Heath?" MJ's voice was small. She looked at him. "There's no way, right? The Chicago PD has it, right?"

Heath swallowed, and put his hand on MJ's shoulder. He handed the phone back to the girl, and pulled out his own.

Thankfully, the boat was pulling into the dock.

"Guys, would you mind, please just letting us off first?" Heath asked, and the fans were shaken and just nodded, moving back and letting MJ and Heath walk down the gangplank unaccosted.

They headed straight into the waiting car, where Heath pulled out his phone.

"It can't be," he said, even as he clicked on it, and saw the vile image of MJ tied to the chair. Heath could be heard off camera, lying desperately about how MJ was bad in bed as Carter untied the knots that held MJ's legs. The bite mark could clearly be seen on her neck, as the blood dripped down.

Now Meredith was untying MJ's arms, as MJ could be heard saying no, she didn't want to. Then she was told to lie down on the bed, to which she once again said no, and was struck in the face, very hard.

Now Heath was calling Carter names.

Heath and MJ watched, as if powerless to turn away, as their car inched through traffic in lower Manhattan.

Carter walked off camera and could be clearly heard punching Heath, as MJ cried out. This time, when she was told to lie down on the bed, she did so without a murmur.

They watched until she tried to kick Carter and the phone slid down, after which the audio was clear, but the screen showed a corner of the lamp shade and a piece of the ceiling. At the point where they heard Carter rip MJ's underwear, Heath mercifully turned it off.

"Oh god, MJ, I'm so, so sorry," he said.

"It's not your fault," MJ replied, leaning her forehead against the cool window of the car. "And surely the police can catch whomever leaked it, right?" She turned to look at him. "Right?"

"Hopefully," Heath answered. "But that doesn't solve the immediate problem of the entire fucking world knowing what happened in that room, which is none of their fucking business." He reached over and rubbed her shoulder. "And what if it was one of the police who leaked it in the first place? How will they deal with that? I bet they won't be in too big of a hurry to solve that crime, you know?"

They pulled up in front of Charlie and Jane's apartment, and the doorman opened the door for them.

"Thank you so much," MJ said, though she wasn't sure if she was supposed to thank a door man or not. It just seemed like good manners to her, and he always smiled, so she did it.

There were fans waiting outside the ropes and red mat next to the doors, fans who knew where Charlie lived, and knew that Johnny and Heath were there, but MJ and Heath just waved and hurried inside.

Heath hugged her in the elevator, and MJ tried to remember that Heath, too was victimized on the tape, not just her. "It's okay, I'm okay," she said. "Don't feel bad, Heath, please don't feel bad anymore."

Jane opened the door, pale eyes wide with concern, and MJ knew that they'd already heard.

"You guys, this is so awful," she said, following them into the spacious living room.

Johnny and Heath were drinking something brown out of tumblers, and Jane was drinking wine, which she poured for MJ. She accepted it gratefully.

"Any chance of finding the asshole who leaked it?" John asked, his voice deep and posh, sounding like a BBC broadcaster. His light brown curls shook with indignation as he leaned against the mantle, looking like an ad for fine crystal or whiskey as he held his drink.

MJ shrugged. "I could call Bronwyn, or that nice police detective. I think I have her card somewhere. But what good would it do?" She looked around at everyone. "I mean, we can't do a thing, you know?"

"But dash it all, you can't just let yourselves be assaulted again like this," Charlie said.

In spite of the awful circumstances, MJ had to fight the urge to smile at hearing Charlie say "dash it all." It was just too James Bond.

He caught her look and raised his eyebrow at her. "God, MJ, don't you start. I get enough of that from Jane." He raised his voice an octave. "Oh my god, Charlie, you sound like Prince William! No, even better, you sound like Prince Harry! Can you try to slum it up a bit and sound like Jason Statham, please? Tonight, when we're in bed, if possible?"

Jane gasped and picked up a cocktail olive, which she threw with incredible accuracy at Charlie's face, nailing him right between the eyes. It fell to the floor where their dog, a terrier mutt named Mr. Darcy, was waiting to eat it. He licked his chops and looked around, wondering where the next snack would come from.

Everyone in the room laughed.

"And on that note, I think we will go to bed," Heath declared. "MJ's right, there's nothing we can do about it tonight, might as well get to tomorrow morning as fast as we can, you know?"

They said their goodnights, and went to their room, which had a beautiful, twinkling view of Midtown, the East River, Brooklyn and Queens.

"Look how gorgeous is is here," MJ murmured, putting her arms around Heath. "I can't even believe I'm living this life."

"Me either," Heath replied, nibbling the lobe of her ear. "Hey, listen, darling, I wanted to make sure you understood," when Archie talked about coming to LA for Uni, he meant coming to live with us, you did get that, right?"

"Of course," MJ replied with a laugh. "Where else would he live?"

"Well, I dunno, it's just that, most people would assume he'd get some apartment somewhere, but that's not how we Spencers do things, you know?"

"I know," MJ answered comfortably, rubbing her nose against Heath's. "We're going to have some kind of compound somewhere, with room for us, my dad, and your brother, right?"

"And probably some horses, cats and dogs, at least," Heath added. "I've always had animals, I have to, MJ, and you said you wanted some, right?"

"Yes," she said, happiness in the syllable.

After a brief silence, while they just held each other and looked out at the incredible view, Heath said, "So the tape leaking really isn't going to affect us? We really are fine, then? We're talking about our house and our future like nothing's different?"

MJ nodded emphatically. "Absofuckinglutely. We're so good we need another word for good, I think."

"So let's go to bed and fuck?"

"Yeah, let's."

They kissed, a nice, deep one, with moans that came from way down in their chests, as their hands went under the other's shirts to touch the warm skin underneath.

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AN: Maybe one or two left, okay? With an epilogue?