This one wrote itself. The muse was very kind that day.

Angie Ramirez, special effects expert and computer wizard, woke with a start. She found herself sitting under a tree, staring at the seared land around her. Where? How had she gotten here... wherever here was? She remembered waking up in the wee hours of the morning with a brainstorm, one she couldn't wait to try. She remembered rollerblading to Rollie's studio/loft home and letting herself inside. She remembered shushing Blue, not wanting to wake her partner/boss, if  by some miracle he was still asleep. Which apparently he was, for no one had stirred on the upper level. She remembered signing on to the computer in the clean room and then... She had awakened here. Angie decided she must have fallen asleep and she was now dreaming. She just hoped it wasn't going to be another nightmare. She'd had enough of those lately, brought on by the events caused by Mangela dragging Rollie off to recover the Soul Stones. Rollie had experienced more than his share of nightmares as well, old and new, from the memories that had been reawakened.

Angie looked around, curious about her surroundings. She laughed softly when she saw some kangaroos regarding her with serious brown eyes. A young one looked at her, startled by the strange sound and hopped closer to its mother. Of course, she would be dreaming about Australia. Angie had been worrying about her best friend quite a bit lately and Rollie was nothing, if not Aussie. She frowned as a soft sound reached her ears from somewhere close by.

It sounded like muffled crying. Angie looked for the source and found it in a small figure huddled under a nearby bush. The small, skinny, brown haired figure was shaking as if his heart were broken. Angie knew, even without seeing his face, that this was a young Rollie Tyler. A young, heart-broken Rollie Tyler. She knew of only one event that could cause this type of grief for the child Rollie, the child who would grow up to be her best friend and family. For some reason, Angie was dreaming about Rollie when he had lost his mother. She wondered why she would be dreaming about this, but not for long. Perhaps, it was because she had also lost her mother at a young age and his mother's death would be fresh in Rollie's mind at the moment.

Angie moved carefully to the small boy's side, she didn't want to frighten him. Rollie had been hurt quite enough lately. She didn't pause to analyze why this was so important when it was just a dream. Gently she reached out and touched his thin shoulder. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" She asked in a quiet voice.

The boy gasped and scrambled away, deeper under the bush. "Who? Who are you?" He asked, one filthy hand surreptitiously scrubbing tears away, making a dirty mess.

"I'm a friend. My name is Angie." She answered quietly. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" The blonde felt a pang as she realized that Rollie was trying to hide his tears for some reason.

"Nothing." Came the stubborn answer. "Nothing's wrong! Who are you? I don't remember you."

"I told you, I'm Angie. I'm your friend, Rollie." She watched his eyes widen in surprise at her knowing his name. "I know something is wrong. You can tell me, Rollie. That's what friends are for."

The young Rollie looked Angie over carefully. He liked what he saw. Angie was a pretty blonde with kind, gentle blue eyes. She was casually dressed in faded blue jeans and a deep blue shirt that brought out the color of her eyes. "How come you know my name?"

"I know. I know you." Angie told him simply. "Please, tell me what's wrong." Her eyes pleaded with him to answer.

"I... I mi... mi... miss my.. my... mum." Rollie stuttered as he gave the painful answer.

"I know you do, Rollie. Why are you trying to hide your tears and pain? Why are you out here all alone?"

Rollie looked away from the pretty woman. How could he tell her? He was a boy, he wasn't suppose to cry like this. He was suppose to be strong, to take it like a man.

Angie guessed some of what Rollie was thinking. How could anyone tell this sensitive little boy not to cry? "Rollie," Angie said softly, reaching a careful hand to cup his chin. She turned him to face her. "Rollie, it's okay. It's okay to cry and to miss your mom. Really. It's not weakness to admit you love someone and miss them when they're gone."

With a strangled cry, Rollie lunged forward to wrap bony arms tightly around Angie, crying as if his heart were broken. Which it was, Angie thought, as she rocked him gently back and forth, letting the boy cry himself out. Angie shed a few tears of her own in the soft brown hair, tears for the young boy's loss, tears for the man's and tears for her own losses. It was okay to cry. She rubbed his back gently, easing some of his sorrow. Angie didn't know how long they sat there, holding each other as the boy wept deep, cleansing tears. Tears that had been denied for too long. Finally, the tears slowed and listening to the soft breathing, Angie realized Rollie had cried himself to sleep. She continued to hold him tightly, wondering how anyone could be so heartlessly cruel as to not see the boy's pain. Angie pushed the brown hair from his face and looked closely at this young version of her best friend. She hoped it hadn't really been like this for Rollie when he lost his mother. She hoped that someone had held him and let him know it was okay to cry. She watched the kangaroos hop by, going wherever kangaroos went,  and the sunset, waiting patiently for the boy to waken.

"ROLLIE!" The distant cry woke the boy from his sleep. His head came up, startled. Deep brown eyes connected with concerned blue ones, and the young boy managed a tiny smile.

"I... I have to go now. That's my da." He offered the explanation reluctantly, not wanting to offend his new found friend.

"Of course, Rollie." Angie nodded, as she pulled a white handkerchief from her pocket. "You have to answer your father's calls. But first, let's clean you up a bit."

Rollie shyly lead her to a tiny thread of a creek where she wet the handkerchief and carefully washed away the evidence of Rollie's grief. "There, that's better." Angie said as she pushed the damp handkerchief into her pocket. "Okay now?" She asked, worried still.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." Rollie responded solemnly. He suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her... hard. "Thank you." He whispered as he looked gratefully up at her. As abruptly as he had given her the hug, he took off, heading towards the sounds of his father's calls. Rollie paused and looked back at her, silhouetted against the setting sun. He waved once and was gone.

Angie smiled as she waved back to the boy, hoping that she had helped. She closed her eyes and wished Rollie well, boy and man. When she opened them, she was back at the workshop. She rubbed her eyes and felt the residual wetness of tears. Angie wondered why she had dreamt of Rollie as a child. True, Mangela had brought back a lot of memories to Rollie about his mother's death and all, but why had she had the dream? She heard sounds on the lowest level of the workshop, indicating Rollie was awake, and smelled fresh coffee brewing. Oh well, it wasn't as bad as some of the dreams she'd had lately, actually it was kind of nice. She felt... better. As if she had really helped Rollie somehow. "Good morning, sleepyhead." Angie called as she bounced down the stairs.

"G'morning, Ange." Rollie answered. "What brings you in, so bright and early?" He was rummaging in the refrigerator, looking for something to make into breakfast.

"I had an idea for that sequence we've been having trouble with. I wanted to try it out."

"Not much here, want to eat out this morning?" Rollie asked and turned to look at her for the first time this morning. "Did it work?"

Rollie gave Angie a peculiar look as he saw her. Angie couldn't quite figure out just what that look meant, but then she decided she didn't really care. "Sounds good to me." She smiled warmly at him and nodded. "Yep. It's looking good. I'll show you after breakfast."

"Let me get the car keys, then I'll be ready." Rollie bounded up the stairs, still wearing that peculiar expression on his face.

Angie shrugged and called out, "I'll meet you outside."

Rollie watched Angie go out from the upper floor. He had almost forgotten the pretty woman named Angie who was his friend. Who had come to him when he needed her most. He wondered if Angie knew the dream had been real... Rollie hadn't connected his childhood Angie with his Angie until he had seen her shirt this morning. He was positive it was new and the blue brought out the blue in Angie's lovely, kind eyes. He had never questioned her appearance and the fact that he had never seen her again. Rollie smiled as he remembered a childish promise he had made himself shortly after that day, when all the adults had said she was "a figment of his imagination" and that Angie didn't exist. Rollie had decided they hadn't known what they were talking about and that one day when he was old enough, he would somehow find Angie and marry her. Rollie closed his eyes and listened... hard. Rollie smiled as he heard the sound of the songline he shared with Angie. Okay so maybe he wouldn't marry her, but they were together and for now that was enough. He grabbed his keys and hurried to join his partner. Rollie smiled again and laughed softly. More than enough.