"Here's your song sheet for tonight, Watson."

Her boss had said it several times before: one of the benefits of hiring an aspiring Broadway singer to headline at your jazz club was that she generally knew the songs in advance. Saved time rehearsing. Mary Jane always thought it saved her boss from having to prepare any further in advance than the last minute.

She ran down the list. Looked like it was an Ella Fitzgerald night.

Some nights she really hated her job. There were way too many songs about love in her repertoire. Love earned, love scorned, love returned, love unrequited, love triumphant, love despairing, on and on and on until Peter's face swam before her eyes in place of the tears she absolutely refused to shed in front of a crowd of strangers.

She had been so sure things would be different after that awful night in the skyscrapers, but he hadn't called, not once. He had barely spoken to her at Harry's funeral, and he'd offered no gesture of comfort—not even a pat on the shoulder, with practically every molecule in her whole body crying out for his embrace.

Now tonight she was stuck in a stuffy club singing love songs, trying to look coquettish instead of angry while singing "Why Can't You Behave," trying not to break down during "Ev'ry Time We Say Good-bye," trying to keep the tone light for "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off."

Then came "You Can Have Him," and she was done. Nobody in their senses could expect her to stay completely dry-eyed while singing lyrics like "You can have him / I don't want him / He's not worth fighting for." Not tonight. No matter how great of an actress she was.

She stepped down from the stage fully intending to ask her boss for the rest of the night off. He came rushing over with an ecstatic expression, and it turned out he had taken her tears for art, after all. "You're bringing down the house tonight, Watson!"

Fine. If reality was what was working tonight, reality was what they'd get. She didn't bother trying to look flirtatious for the next number. She didn't try to keep the cynicism from her eyes or her voice. She didn't try to pretend that there was any part of her that didn't believe in this song.

I have given you my true love,
But you love a new love.
What am I supposed to do now
With you now, you're through?
You'll be on your merry way
And there's only this to say:

I'm through with love
I'll never fall again.
Said adieu to love
Don't ever call again.
For I must have you or no one
And so I'm through with love.

I've locked my heart
I'll keep my feelings there.
I have stocked my heart
with icy, frigid air.
And I mean to care for no one
Because I'm through with love.

Why did you lead me
to think you could care?
You didn't need me
for you had your share
of slaves around you
to hound you and swear
with deep emotion and devotion to you.

Goodbye to spring and all it meant to me
It can never bring the thing that used to be.
For I must have you or no one
And so I'm through with love.

She did bring the house down, and they asked for the song again. Weariness flooded her as she stepped to the microphone, once more beginning her new declaration: "I'm through with love…."

The door opened. Her eyes flicked to it idly, and the blood pounding in her ears drowned out the rest of the world.

His hair, she noted absently, was back to normal. It was the only external detail she had time to notice before their eyes met and locked. She stiffened, expecting that at any second he would call her name, make small talk, launch into an elaborate apology, or explain away his behavior. But he didn't.

Slowly, deliberately, he held out his hand. And then he did something he hadn't done for what seemed like ages.

He waited for her.

A thousand reasons not to take his hand crowded her mind, and she could think of only one reason why she should—if they couldn't forgive each other, then everything they had ever been was meaningless. She reached for him. Gently, he drew her to himself, demanding nothing.

She felt the iciness in her heart begin to thaw, and "For I must have you or no one" looped over and over in her head.