There weren't many people at the game, let alone in their section, which was good because Conan was not in the mood to deal with people.

He sipped his beer and glanced for the millionth time at the girls sitting not far from him. There we're two of them, and one of them was really pretty. He was dying to flash a smile at her, but had vowed to stay away from women for a while....couldn't trust him.

The girl was looking at him with a look on her face that could only be described as recognition. That had been the only reason he had noticed her, because she was staring at him.

Conan was doubting himself, fairly certain she was probably scared of him. Ever since the whole thing with Sheila people looked at him differently. There had been no proof whatsoever, but people knew....he could see it in their eyes. Even in a few interviews the subject had come up. Had he done it? Did he hire someone? Why? Was he guilty? Because he was innocent but couldn't prove it?

Conan did his best to just plain repress the memory, and when people asked him, even he believed he hadn't had her killed. This was New York. Random people were killed every day. Besides, it looked like she killed herself. Not unlike what she had almost done to him, actually.

So, for some reason, he felt no guilt about it.

The girl was still staring. He resisted the urge. Josh returned, Conan drank, and the Sox hit a home run.

Conan returned to his lonely apartment in high spirits. His team had won. He listened to his messages on his machine. One from his mother, two from Susan....they still talked once in a while, but that was it.....someone from a magazine....he listened with interest. It was someone from Entertainment Weekly, and they wanted him to write an article for them...."We've been getting letters lately about you. Your fans want to hear about you. We figured you might like to write something..."the guy said. He gave a number. "Call and tell me what you think....."

"Hmmm...." Conan said to himself. "I just might...."

The next day he rode to work thoughtfully. What could he say? What was there to write about? When he arrived at work he found Susan and asked her, as a fan, what would she want him to write.

"Oh, definitely something personal. Every interview of yours has been saying the same thing for years....we need to hear it from your point of view....."

"Like what?" he asked.

She thought about it "Oh....I don't know....how about, like, a typical day in your life? Like, what do you do at work, that sort of thing....so people can appreciate a little more how hard you work...."

"A day in the life of....." Conan murmured. "Hmm...I'll see what they guy thinks..."

Susan smiled. "So what are you doing tonight?"

Conan raised his eyebrows. "Well, a show."

She rolled her eyes. "After the show?"

"Nothing," Conan admitted "but I don't think--"

"Oh come on! Let's just go out for a few drinks or something." She insisted.

"But--" Conan kind of wanted to, but he knew what would happen. He was weak when it came to that area. "Fine...we can go out...."

Susan grinned triumphantly. "Good. I'll meet you at your office at nine." She walked away before he could answer, or change his mind. He sighed. Now he had committed to something. His plan to not go insane was crumbling.

Conan bid farewell to the camera, smiling away. Andy leaned over and asked over the music "Are you okay? You seem really happy and upbeat."

Conan made a face at him. "I'm in a good mood, have a problem with that?"

"No. Just don't take it out on me. So why are you so happy?" Conan gestured to the crowd, the loud band, and the cameras, which were still on. "Could we talk about this later?"

Once backstage, Andy questioned him. "So?"

Conan shrugged. "I don't know. I just feel better. Susan is forcing me to go out tonight."

"Oh? She isn't afraid of you?"

Conan eyed him. Andy didn't know about it--no one did, and nobody ever would. But Conan knew that Andy was pretty sure he did. "Not funny, Richter."

"Sorry." Andy replied, grinning sheepishly. Conan wondered around backstage, looking for something to do. He was stopped several times--people had noticed a difference in his attitude. He couldn't figure out what they had seen; he didn't feel any different. But apparently he was. He asked for a tape of the show and was handed it almost immediately he slowly made his way to his office and slid the tape in his VCR, watching the unedited version of his show.

He watched himself carefully, noticing that he did, in fact, appear lighter. He seemed happier. Conan wrinkled his forehead with wonder. How was it he appeared that way? "Maybe I'm getting better at acting..." he muttered to himself, laughing. Searching for an answer, he went over his day. Nobody had looked at him weird. Nobody had asked him about her. Susan had asked him to go out. People were forgetting

Despite himself, Conan smiled. Suddenly, he did feel happier.

Susan ended up going home--the two had gone back to Conan's place instead of going out for drinks. The two had just ended up talking. Then Susan decided to go home. Conan sighed, sitting in his chair. Alone again. All he had gotten was a kiss....

His show was coming on. He watched again as he appeared to be a happier guy. For a while he had been happy, but now he was depressed.....he was alone. He hated being alone. "I'm too old to be alone." he murmured.

He wondered about that. Was he? He looked around his apartment, a bleak thing it was. Yeah, he was too old. 35 was not young. Which was odd. He had been young five years ago, when he had first started out. "Young and Hip" Conan O'Brien. He laughed to himself. He hadn't been hip, they had learned that....

Within three seconds he was up and walking out the door. Time to go out. It was late, but too bad. There was a bar down the street.

.

Clad in sunglasses and his leather jacket, Conan literally ran into his office. He flopped into his chair, glancing at his watch. 10:15. So he was a little late, but not noticably. He left on his sunglasses and dug in his desk for aspirin. He had such a hangover....

He pulled off his glasses and looked in there mirror. His eyes were bright red. This was a problem he had always had. His fair skin and blue eyes made a hangover very obvious.

His assistant knocked on the door. "Come in...."Conan groaned

Julie looked him up and down. "Hung over?"

Conan laid his head on his desk and buried his head in his arms. "No."

Julie grinned. "Of course you aren't. Look at me."

Sighing, he raised his head and looked at her. She cracked up. "Your eyes are so red!" she looked around his office. "I think you have eye drops in your dressing room....want me to get them for you?"

Conan continued his search for aspirin. "Please...."

"Top left drawer...." she called as she went in search of eyedrops.

Conan pulled open the top left drawer, the drawer his aspirin was always in, which he never remembered until Julie reminded him. He gulped down a few without counting--four or something. Julie returned and tossed him the bottle of eyedrops. "Anything else?"

"Ummm....yeah, could you host the show for me?" Conan grinned, and tilted his head back to put in the drops. "I guess I'm fine for now....could you maybe find Susan for me?"

"Sure...." Julie muttered. "Oh, we're taping some stuff later....so be prepared...." She walked out, exasperated. She didn't know what he saw in that girl. Julie had overheard her this morning, telling someone she was sick of him. Julie found her immediatly, doing what she did best--nothing. "Conan wants to see you." She murmured to her.

Whle they were under no orders to keep the whole relationship quiet, Julie still said things quietly. She didn't want the stupid tabloids to get a hold on the story and blow it out of proportion. So she kept quiet about it, like she did everything. She was the one the reporters were always questioning. She was, in fact, the only one who knew the truth about Sheila. Conan had not told her, but she knew, he had asked her one day, out of the blue "Do you think I did it?"

At first, Julie had been tempted to lie, but she didn't. She answered with "I think you did the only thing you could."

Conan had stared at her, looking sad. "I'm not a bad guy."

"No, you aren't." she had walked away at that, turning around and quickly saying "Your secret's safe with me."

She had walked away before she could see his reaction, and they had never discussed it again. And reporter after reporter had bugged her for dirt on him, offering a lot of money. But she had never given in. Which is why she didn't undersand why he was head over heels for a kid who didn't like him. Sure, not long ago he had offered her some money, a lot of money actually, because he was so grateful. She had turned it down of course. But that was all he ever offered. Money.

She had not, ever since she had been hired, found Conan attractive, for many reasons. He seemed to uptight, he had a girlfriend he loved, he was a little full of himself, etc. Then he had broken up with his girlfriend. Then he started with that girl, then Susan, then Sheila. This got rid of her "uptight" theory. Then, after the whole thing with Sheila, at that moment when she had turned around and old him his secret was safe, she realized that he was in no way full of himself. And it had been at that moment she had fallen for him.

Which is why Susan frustrated her so much. She hoped that Susan would break it off soon, give her a chance.....

Julie walked quickly, striding to the elevator, then down the hall to Conan's office. Without guilt she pressed her ear to the door. She heard Conan's muffled voice, and she made out the words "when do you...."

That was all she could hear. They were talking quietly. She sighed and leaned against the wall to the right of the door. She closed her eyes, wanting to relax.

"So what do you want?" Susan asked, walking into the office and slumping in his chair.

Conan raised his eyebrows. "Well, I just wanted to find out just how sick of me you are....you're making it pretty obvious."

Susan sighed. "I'm just bored. We're going nowhere, I don't see why you insist on keeping me around....am I supposed to be your little problem solver? I mean, I could use a little reward--"

"When do you work?"

Her eyes flashed. She hated being ignored. "What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean, you never do anything. You are an intern, you're here to learn, to work. Not to sit on your ass and earn free credits."

Susan's mouth dropped open. "I don't--"

"I've had several people complain, Susan. You have t sart working or you'll lose your internship."

She smiled sweetly. "But Conan...." she murmured.

He rolled his eyes. "Please. Look, I'm not threatening you, this is just a suggestion...maybe you should quit."

She glared at him. "You're forcing me out?"

"No, I am making a suggestion. Take it any way you please."

Susan stood up and walked out without closing the door. Conan felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his chest.

Julie poked her head in. "You okay?"

Conan smiled at her. "Just fine Julie."

She nodded and was on her way.

"What are we supposed to be doing?" Conan asked the writer incrediously.

Again, the entire crew cracked up. Conan just could not understand what he was supposed to be doing.

"Just....talk..." the writer giggled.

"Talk to what?"

This went on for quite a while. Then of course Conan fell off a chair, still not quite sure why he was on it. A few people helped him up, and someone called for a break. "Are you okay?" someone asked.

Conan thought he was, until he stood on his left foot. A soon as he put weight on it he yelped, not expecting pain. He hopped up and down, nearly falling again. The producer caught him, cursing. "Please tell me you only twisted your ankle..."

Conan made a face at him and sat on the floor, taking off his shoe. "I don't think so..." he said, looking at his already swollen ankle.

"Is it broken?" asked Julie.

"No....I don't think so...." he muttered.