I was almost glad for these moments to be alone, they gave me time to think, or better, time to work up my nerve.

//I'm gonna tell him.  Today.  Before he leaves he's gonna know who I am.//

That was the mantra that rolled through my head as I stood beneath the warm spray of the shower.  Losing myself beneath the pounding liquid, I found myself humming the song that I'd now come to know as "I Knew I Loved You".  I'd have to talk to Darren about that though.  I'd have to talk to Darren about a lot of things.

//Ok, so he'll probably be hurt I've kept this hidden from him, but the fact that I'm sharing it volunarily now should make up for that.//  I wasn't sure if I was convincing myself, but I was sure trying.

The warm water trickled over my skin like fingers. I strengthened my resolve, pushing my face under the spray, letting the water cascade over me.  Somewhere beneath the thundering water I thought I heard the muted wail of the telephone.  I wrenched my head from beneath the wall of water and listened.  Nothing.  I must have imagined it.

I leaned back under the spray, rinsing shampoo from my hair, the phantom phone still niggling at me.

//Even if it did ring - it can't be anything important - no one knows I'm here except... oh shit//

Lynne... my manager.

I shut off the taps, snared a towel and raced back to the bedrooom, cursing my own stupidity for not realising sooner.

I got there just in time to hear the answering machine click to a stop and start rewinding.  No sign of Darren.  Shit. Tossing the towel round my waist I raced for the lift, getting there just in time to catch a glimpse of Darren's stricken expression as the lift doors closed.  Too soon he was gone.

"Fuck!"  I screamed it out, hammering the wall in frustration.  Too late to call the lift back, or take the stairs, shit I wasn't even dressed.  "Dammit!"  I wanted to break something.  I wanted to scream.  Somewhere inside, I wanted to die.  I blew it.  

I lost him.

Later, curled on the bed, head buried in the pillow, breathing in his scent that still lingered on the linen, I listened back to the message that had revealed and condemned me.

::the telltale long-distance beeps::

"Daniel you bastard - where the hell are you?  I've got studio execs and marketing dickheads breathing down my neck and you're off in Australia fucking finding yourself!  I know it's part of the Savage image to be non-existant, but I need you to exist right now.  We need an album.  We're eating up studio time here and it's not like we can make it up on the Savage tour, you know!

(A pause. A breath. Then she speaks more softly.)

"I know you don't like to hear this Daniel, but you *are* Savage. No one else can do this for you. Look, give me a call already - you're starting to worry me. I'll be in the office today and on my mobile tonight."

::Click::