When Callie stepped into the cabin of the jet, she noticed it was small but cozy. There was a pair of comfy looking recliners facing each other with a table in between them and on the opposite side of the cabin, a large tan couch with fluffy cushions. She didn't see Michael anywhere but heard some shuffling coming from the back. 

   As she walked down a small hallway she saw movement through a divider that was partially opened. She pulled it back a little further and peaked her head into the bedroom. "Michael?" She said softly, "Can we talk?"

   Michael had a duffle bag sitting on the bed. He had pulled out a pair of black track pants with two white stripes down each side, a plain white v-neck and a pair of fluffy white socks and tossed them on the bed. "Change into something dry," He told her, avoiding her question. "I don't want you to get sick." His words told her that he cared but his voice was quiet and cold and she could feel tears threatening her eyes again. 

   "Michael, please," Her voice shaking again. "I really need to talk to you."

   Michael kept his eyes at the bed or roaming around various points in the room but they refused to make contact with hers. "We can talk," He sounded defeated and it broke Callie's heart, "After you change into something dry." Michael's eyes met Callie's for a moment before he cast them to the floor and went to walk out of the bedroom.

   "Michael, please," Callie reached out grabbing his arm, "Just, please don't leave me."

   Michael turned to face her again, this time locking eyes with her and Callie could see his pain. Though he wasn't crying, Michael's eyes were glossed over. To Callie, it seemed that at any moment the dam might break and the water would come gushing from his eyes, filling the room and drowning them both. She sucked in a sharp breath and forced a little smile.

   Michael cast his eyes down again and then looked back up at her with a small, forced smile. His arm brushed hers for a moment, then he reached out to slide the door to the bedroom shut. He walked to the other side of the room and sat down on the bed, with his back to her so she could change. 

   As Callie dropped her wet clothes to the floor, she became very aware of her nakedness. She looked at Michael, still sitting on the bed with his back turned, as she reached for the clothes on the bed. She quickly dressed and smiled, happy to be warm and dry again. She looked up again at Michael and walked over to him. She reached out and tapped his shoulder. He turned to face her and she immediately pulled him up off the bed and into a hug. Michael hesitated at first, but then loosely wrapped his arms around Callie's waist.

   "I've been dying to do that for 3 days now." Callie admitted.

   Michael pulled away, sat back down and looked up at her with his sad brown eyes. "I need to know the truth, Callie." He bit his lip nervously. This time, instead of turning Callie on, it made her heart sink. Michael's sad face peered up at her from under his fedora with curls cascading down his face and onto his red button up shirt. He looked so eager to forgive her. He just needed to hear the truth coming from her and then it would be done. They could move on.

   Callie sighed. "The truth is, I spent 3 days in bed crying. I barely ate or did anything. I couldn't have a moment alone. And all I could think about was running away the first chance I got. When they finally took me out of the hotel room, I thought we were going to the airport to go back home. But instead, they took me into another room for a press conference and they were asking me these questions that were just so..." Callie scrunched her face in anger but then composed herself so she could continue. "My mom was too distracted by the reporters and I think Dad felt guilty. I ran and he didn't even try to stop me."

   Callie noticed that she had wandered off, staring into space. She looked back down at Michael. "You know, we were in a really fancy hotel in a humongous suite. My parents couldn't afford something like that... I think someone was paying for it in exchange for my story or something." She let out a fake laugh. "I tried to tell them there was no story but no one wanted to hear that."

   "They never do." Michael whispered.

   Callie took Michael's hands in hers. "The truth is, Michael, if I wanted to sell you out for fame and fortune, then I wouldn't be here right now, begging for your forgiveness."

   Michael smiled up at Callie. It was a real, genuine smile. Callie felt relief rush over her and she couldn't help but smile back. She pulled Michael back up from the bed and closer to her. He came willingly, with a giggle, before planting his lips on hers. 

   After a minute Callie pulled away. "So... are we going to Dubai or not?" She gave him a sly grin.

   "Oh!" Michael remembered. He kept a hold of Callie's hand and pulled her towards the door of the bedroom, opening it and slipping through into the main cabin. He pulled her over to the exit and peaked out. "Never mind, Bill. I think we'll stay here!" He yelled out with a giggle.

   "Good, 'cause I never unloaded your damn bags anyway." His deep voice rumbled but he wore a satisfied grin that made Callie laugh. 

   It was no longer raining but Michael noticed how wet everything still was. He looked down at Callie's sock feet. He wore a huge grin as he picked her up, bridal style, and carried her down towards the SUV still parked by the jet. 

   Callie hooked her arms around Michael's neck. "To Neverland?" She asked.

   "To Neverland!" He proclaimed and Callie pecked kisses all around his face as he carried her to the vehicle.