He looked away, and her anger rose. He would not even look at her. She began breathing heavily, she was so mad. This was it. This was what made her do it. The fact that he would look away, the fact that he would ignore her. He deserves it. She told herself.

It was time to approach the podium.

Conan wasn't really listening to what Sheila was saying--it sounded legitament though. Instead he scanned the reporters faces. Most looked shocked. Some looked doubtful. A few looked sympathetic. A couple looked greedy. He figured the shocked ones were half and half. Half were shocked that he was being accused, the other half had their mind made up and were shocked he had done it. The doubtfuls were on his side, he knew. They were loyal to Conan, he recognized some of them. They were pretty sure she was lying. The sypathetic were for her, of course, and the greedy had dollar signs in their eyes.

So he had about a dozen half way on his side. Okay. He could handle this.

Sheila's lawyer was talking now, answering questions with as many "No Comment's" as he could. Then John talked for a minute, then Conan was forced on stage. He stood up in a daze, flashbulbs blinding him. He stood at the podium. The room was silent.

"Uh, I just want to say that all these charges are false and I will fight them to the end." He said without looking up. He finally did, asking "Any questions?"

They remained civilized, calmly asking him about evidence, why he thought she was even accusing him, and a feminest, he was pretty sure she was, stood up and screamed at him "Why did you do it, you rapist?!"

He calmly pointed out that first of all, he was not being accused of rape, and second of all, he didn't do it.

He watched as she was escorted away, a little dazed still. Then he shook himself out of it and said something about that being enough. As he walked off the stage his calmness finaly gave out and he nearly passed out, actually stumbling. John caught him before he fell. "You okay?" He asked, holding him up.

Conan straightened himself out. "Yeah, I......I'm just out of it, is all."

Mike patted him on the back. "Go home. Get some rest, since you insist on starting the show back up tomorrow."

Conan nodded and walked away, out to his limo, ignoring reporters. He didn't even realize he was at his building until the driver told him. He slumped into his apartment and sat in his chair. "What now?" he murmered, feeling like he could die at that moment and not care. He sighed. He was getting depressed, he knew it. He would be like this for days, unless he took a pill. He had promised, but he could not do the show like this......

I'll sleep on it. He decided, heading for bed. It was only eight o'clock, but he felt like he hadn't slept in days.

*******

The next morning Conan was up easily--he had barely slept. Without the slightest hint of guilt he slunk into his bathroom and swallowed two pills. He could not do the show in this mood.

The phone rang. Conan glanced at the clock and chose to ignore it. The answering machine picked up. "Conan, I know it's early....just wanted to make sure you're ok, last night you seemed pretty detached...." it was his lawyer. "Just remember, we're here for ya, man.....don't do anything stupid."

He wished for a gun, so he could just blow the answering machine away. Nobody trusted his word. Everyone, even his lawyer, was sure he would try and kill himself again...."Again?" Conan asked out loud. Even he was thinking the same way.

He glanced out the window. He couldn't do it. He couldn't go out there. He didn't want to have a nervous breakdown. He ventured back into the bathroom and sifted through his medicine cabinet for something to make him sleep. Sighing, he settled for NyQuil, and lots of it. He lay in bed, waiting for it to work. As he began drifting off he realized he had forgoten about the other pills he had taken. Nah... he thought. He would be fine.

*******

Conan awoke with a start at the sound of his doorbell. It was dark out now...."Oh shit..."he murmered, quickly answering the door.

Susan looked suprised as he threw open the door. "Oh! Uh, they wanted me to come check on you...you were supposed to come do the show today..."

Conan grabbed her and pulled her in. "They were worried, huh?" he asked, closing the door.

Susan smiled "Yeah....I have to admit I was too. I mean, I know you didn't...."

Too late. The damage was done. Conan's face fell. "Don't tell me you would actually think I would do such a thing."

Susan opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. "Well...."she squeaked, "Conan, I just don't understand why she would lie. I mean, if you did it, the best thing to do would be...admitting it."

Conan sighed. "Could you leave?"

Susan's mouth fell open. "But-"

"Goodbye, Susan." Conan said quietly.

Slowly she left. When she did Conan came to a decision. This could not go on. *******

Sheila's doorbell rang insistently. She sighed and opened it. The person on the other side pushed the door open and walked in her apartment. She gasped, spinning around. "Who--oh..."

Conan faced the only true enemy he had ever had. Quietly, calmly, he asked "Why are you doing this to me?"

Sheila stared at him boldly but did not answer.

Conan sighed, grabbing her arm. He would never be this rough with a woman under normal circumstances. He pulled her up close, hatred burning through him. "Sheila, I don't think you understand. I could kill you right now without the slightest regret. You have singlehandedly turned me into a monster. I want to know why."

Sheila was breathing hard. "I--"

At her pause he gripped her arm tighter. She let out a small cry, but it didn't help. "You....ignored me for so long...." she gasped, twisting her arms trying to loosen his grip.

"Ignore? Ignore?" Conan let go suddenly and she fell to the floor. "I had a girlfriend. Another life. Why would I have wanted you?"

Sheila glared at him, rubbing her arm. "You are really asking for it. If I were to call the police they would come arrest you right now."

Conan ignored her. "So were you stalking me? Does that mean you know everythng about me?"

"It might." she murmered.

"So, say, you would know if I had a gun with me?"

Fear flashed across her eyes, then was immediatly shadowed with disbelief. "If you had a gun you would have used it by now. Either on me or yourself."

"Did I not mention what you have turned me in to?" he yanked a small handgun from his pocket and waved it in her face. "I've changed a little. I want to cut you a deal."

"At gunpoint? That isn't very fair."

"Here's the deal," he went on, ignoring her. "If you revoke everything you said, I won't use this. I will drop my charges against you. We will both live happily ever after."

"And if I don't?"

"The you will miss out on the live part and I will miss out on the happy part."

Conan could not believe these words were from his mouth. He stared at her, waiting for her reaction. Slowly she nodded. "Okay. Sounds good."

Conan left then. As he stepped out of the building he glanced at the person waiting across the street, then nodded at him.

Of course, the next day was quiet. Reporters could not blame Conan, although thats what the entire country assumed. Then the police announced he had aliby's, witnesses, the whole nine yards. Things returned to normal in his life. The case against him was dismissed due to lack of evidence. And just like that, she was forgotten, just labled as "another one of those weird things". All Sheila was anymore was just another unsolved case.