Rating: Most likely PG-13 for most parts.

Note: Title and summary is from U2's One. This will be a songfic, sort of.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything at all. Not the show, not the song, nothing.

Please read and review my first attempt at fan fiction.

One

1: Fear of Flying

I got a fear of flying on a plane
Cause we got no say on how it ends up
Well in my mind love's the very same way
That's why I never give my heart to no one

I never take a chance
On a love that lifts me off the ground
I came to Earth found things
But I wanna spread my wings somehow, somehow

Listen
I've been in love but I fell to fast
I found myself in turbulent skies
I felt the hurt when I crashed and burned
Then I found myself with tears in my eyes

But when you look at me
Something says it's gonna be alright, alright
And all my fears I'll face
Cause I think I'm gonna take this flight, oh

Fear of flying high
It's all in my mind
Voices in the wind
Think I'm flying now, flying now, flying now

She hated flying. In fact, she had a terrible fear of flying, which was ironic. She had taken dozens of trips to Europe, Asia, the Caribbean, and South Pacific as a child, but now she got antsy and nervous every time she set foot on an airplane. She much preferred boats. There was no feeling like sitting in a speedboat, glass of champagne in hand, with the summer's breeze, her breeze, whipping through her hair, giving it the salty sexed up look. She loved that when she was on one of those boats, she didn't have a care in the world. Nowadays, there wasn't much time or opportunity for thoughts like that. Now she lived on the East Coast, where the waves were more choppy and cold, unlike the warmer inviting waters of the Pacific Ocean. And there weren't many people in the city (whom she knew) who had speedboats or even sailboats. Most of the boats she had been on were luxurious yachts that sailed around the harbor during a dinner/charity/benefit gala or something. And that wasn't bad, but it wasn't half as exciting either. Sometimes she would buy a ticket on the Staten Island Ferry and stand on the top deck, letting the wind whip through her hair, and feeling the mist of the water on her cheeks. Moisture running over her face, her arms, her foot. Her foot? She shook some liquid off of her Jimmy Choo sandals and glared at the person to her left.

The old man sitting next to her accidentally knocked over his glass of wine while sleeping. She was annoyed, but shrugged it off. She was trying to be a more patient person. At least she was in first class. If she was going to fly, she would not be caught dead cramped in between two noisy children with another kicking her seat in the back. That was not something that she would ever subject herself to ever. It's not like she didn't like children, it's just that she didn't like ones that didn't behave. In her mind that was all of them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now preparing for landing. Please return to your seats and stow any carry on luggage that had been moved during the flight. Return your seat backs to the upright position and thank you for flying Virgin Atlantic."

She tucked the magazine, some British tabloid, into her Prada bag. Summer Roberts had just spent the last week in London, attending a play opening in the west end. She took out her mirror and expertly reapplied any makeup that had rubbed off during the long flight. Already she could see the lights of New York shining from her window. London had been fun, but now it was back to the states and back to work.

***

"Ms. Roberts! Ms. Roberts, you're back!" Summer stopped in her tracks and cringed at the sound of a junior layout designer. Hardly anyone called her "Ms. Roberts," it made her sound like a teacher or something. The rail thin, blonde model looking girl was no more than 20 years old. Why did the magazine hire people like this? She probably didn't have any experience and was most likely hired more for desirable image than credibility. It seemed that Skin magazine hired lots of their employees that way. Maybe even Summer. She put on a fake smile and turned, blinding the poor girl with her teeth.

"Yep, I'm back. Did you get the layout for my piece that I faxed to you guys? Everything should be a go on this issue."

"We received your article, but have a few questions on uh, what pictures you think would be, um, fitting for it."

Summer tapped her heels impatiently, waiting for the girl to finish spitting out her sentence.

"You done?" The girl nodded. "Look, I don't care what pictures go with it, take it up with my assistant, she'll know what I want"

"Oh, thank you Ms. Roberts, sorry for interrupting you."

"It's fine."

She didn't really mean to be so harsh, but she was very busy and had more important things to worry about than what pictures to use on her article about some new restaurants that had just opened up on the Upper East Side. I mean, couldn't they just find pictures of those restaurants? It seemed simple to her.

Whatever. She had been working for Skin Deep for about 3 years. She was the a features writer, in fact, she had her own monthly column in which she gave tips on what was hot, and what was not in terms of style, new restaurants, entertainment, and celebrities. She pretty much wrote about anything, her opinion on whatever. Sometimes it was even social happenings, or even household tips or recipes. The most accurate way she had ever heard anyone describe her was that she was "all 5 queer eye guys rolled up into one petite powerhouse."

Skin Deep pretty much let her write about anything, whether it was Jennifer Aniston's trip to the dentist or Britney's choice of toilet paper. The fact of the matter was that Summer single-handedly put Skin on the map. Before she came to write for them, they had been a trashy fashion-celebrity rag that was hidden behind the likes of InStyle, Marie Claire, and Cosmo. Now it was placed in the front row with all the other major players. She had been the hottest thing to hit the magazine world in a while. She had a huge fan following, with hundreds of emails and letters pouring into the Manhattan office daily from admirers looking for advice, tips, and dates. It was probably because she was brutally honest with everything she wrote. If she didn't like a restaurant, she wouldn't openly blast it, but point out some things that were not too particularly appealing. And if she liked a particular designer's summer line, it would sell out before most places in the country had even received any of those products. Hell her opinion and audacity had always gotten her places before, so she figured she'd milk it for a career.

However, Summer's writing had not made the magazine so huge on its own. When she first started, her articles were lost on the radar's as much as the next unknown. But, as fate would have it, she met a guy at a bar who worked for Vh1 casting. When he heard she wrote for a (semi)legitimate publication, he immediately cast her to comment on the next Vh1 special on hot celebrities. You know, the ones that are on 24 hours a day. Hottest hotties, Bad Girls, Robbing the Cradle? Yeah, those. The exposure proved to be a bigger boost than she thought; suddenly industry people knew her as the hot brunette from those specials. And regular people found out how quick witted and intelligent she could be. Suddenly, Skin was selling a lot more magazines. And Summer got a hefty raise. And she became a fairly well known name…well, as well known as a journalist could get (i.e. Joel Stein from Time and that guy with the glasses from the Village Voice).

Summer sat at her desk, with nothing particular to do. She had finished her next article about Fashion week and a review of that new show in London. She knew she wrote fluff, but she didn't really care. She successfully parlayed her interests into a career. And she could make a romantic teen comedy sound like a brilliant Shakespeare play in her summaries. It was fairly satisfying, for now. One day, she hoped to move onto a more critically acceptable magazine, but this would do as her stepping stone. Summer picked up her bag and walked past her assistant, who was on the phone.

"Katie, I'm not feeling so well, so I'm leaving early today. If anything comes up call me, and make sure you take another look at the layout before you go. Drop off the final draft with the doorman and then have a good weekend. I'll see you Monday."

Katie nodded, as she tried to comprehend the two conversations that had gone on at the same time. Ok, so Summer wasn't so patient. She was trying.

"Hey, how's my little baby today? Were you a good boy?" Summer knelt and received a welcome home lick from her Shiba-Inu, Kenji. He wagged his tail and ran around the apartment as to signal the arrival of his owner. She dragged the four shopping bags into the apartment. She decided to go shopping; shopping was the best cure to any ailment. And Barney's was like the best hospital ever. She pulled out a pair of Prada boots and admired the craftsmanship. She did the same with her Gucci handbag, Burberry cape, and Narciso Rodriguez top. Ah, to be in the fashion business. She knew all the managers at all the major stores and held considerable power over them. If they wanted a good review, then they would also want her to look nice in their clothes, at a much lower price, if anything at all.

Kenji had busied himself with a smaller bag that had been hidden behind the bigger Barney's ones.

"No, Kenji, don't try to destroy Mommy's food. She hasn't had anything to eat today." Summer's stomach growled as the smell of pad Thai and mee krob wafted out of the bag. "in fact, Mommy's gonna eat some right now."

She didn't really feel like going out tonight. And that was saying something. Summer Roberts was well known for being everywhere that was anywhere. People probably thought she was Paris and Nicky's long lost brunette sister. Practically every night was spent at a bar, club, restaurant, gallery opening, or show. It's not like the whole weekend was lost though. She was already going to a dinner party the next night, so she decided she'd give herself a much needed night of relaxation and meditation.

She laughed at the so-terrible-it-was-funny series on TV. How did this stuff get on TV? Probably because people like her watched it, even though she'd probably given it a not so good review in her article a few months prior. She'd already spent an hour gobbling down all the assorted dishes she had picked from her favorite Thai restaurant and watching the most terrible television known to mankind. Summer cleaned up the food containers and noticed Kenji following her every move with his eyes.

"Okay, I get it. I gotta take you for a walk." She grabbed a few poop bags and was dragged out the door by her very strong dog.

***

Summer leafed through the mail as Kenji happily chewed on his squeaky kitty. Bills, bills, bills, magazines, bank statement. Hello, what is this? Her fingers felt the weighted paper that she could tell had come from Cranes. So pretty…her fingers traced the envelope and the raised black letters. She carefully opened it and read the sheet that was inside.

"Oh. My. God. Holy shit…"

Fear of Flying by Mya