Dean had breathed a sigh of relief as the town car turned into Via Bellinzona and he’d glimpsed Indigo standing on the hill ahead of him. They were still here. He hadn’t missed them. His plans had not gone awry. Indigo was staring upwards and yelling words into the sky. Not a huge worry, it was Indigo after all, but it did require further investigation. The car nudged up close to Indigo, and Dean followed her line of sight. Hazel! Hazel was flat on her back on the roof, and from the look on her face she wasn’t doing it to get a suntan! He panicked. He hadn’t flown all this way to watch the only woman he’d ever loved slide off of a roof to her certain death! He reached for the door handle and pulled, but the door was locked.

“Hold on,” said the driver, with a worried look at Dean’s frantic pulling. “I have to open it.”

Dean heard a latch click, the handle moved, the door flew open, and he lost his balance, tumbling onto the road next to the car.

“What the hell are you doing up there Hazel?” He scrambled to his feet and held his arms in the air, palms flat towards her, as though he could stop her fall through sheer will. He turned to Indigo. "What's she doing up there, Indigo? You were supposed to look after her for me!"

Indigo gave him a disgusted look, "What? I didn't let her leave did I? Look!" She pointed up toward Hazel, "She's right there on the roof ready for you to save. Looks like I did a pretty good job, if you ask me!"

Dean looked up at the roof and felt his stomach turn. It was so high! “Hang on Hazel! I’m coming to get you!!”

He raced around to the back door of the house and raced up the stairs until he reached the closet that hid the ladder that led to the widow’s walk. He hadn’t been up here yet. Had he tried before his ill-fated Tower of Pisa climb, he might have saved himself the embarrassment of that day by discovering his fear of heights much earlier. His head popped up into the windowed enclosure and he scanned the roof for Hazel. There she was, wedged into the gutter, the top of her head about seven or eight feet in front of him on the left-hand side of the roof. Then he made a huge mistake. A strange mewing sound caught his attention, and he glanced beyond Hazel to catch sight of an animal stuck in the tall tree at the edge of the roof. The problem was, that along with his view of the kitten, he got a view of the ground below. The windows of the widow’s walk began to rotate around him.

“No!” he told himself and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to clear his vision. “Not now. This can not happen right now!” He took a deep breath and held it. He willed the dizziness to go away, but when he opened his eyes the room and the roof were still spinning.

“Are you here, Dean?” Hazel called. She was straining, trying to stretch her neck so she could see behind her.

Dean felt a rush of fear at her movement. He didn't want her to lose her balance. “Don’t move! I don’t want you to slip! Just stay there. I’ll tell you what to do.” Dean took another deep breath and moved toward the open window.

“You can’t go out there!” Indigo shouted from the street below. “Stella told me you’re terrified of heights. Said you got stuck on the Tower of Pisa. That roof is really high!"

“Not helpful, Indigo.” Dean called. Nausea gurgled in his stomach.

“You were stuck on the Tower of Pisa?” Hazel yelled.

“Yes, I was stuck! Do you think I would have let Isabella get close enough to kiss me if I wasn’t? I couldn't move!” Dean climbed onto the chair next to the window and gasped at the fear that flashed through him. He was totally vulnerable and open to the empty space in front of him. Only the roof was below. “Shoot!”

“You won’t be very helpful either if you fall off that roof,” Indigo called.

“Mother!”

“Indigo!”

Hazel and Dean shouted simultaneously.

“But what are you doing here? I thought you were going back to your job, your life in Hollywood?” Hazel sounded on the edge of tears.

Dean reminded himself that Hazel was probably more scared than he was. He stuck one leg through the window and let it rest on the top of the roof. The hot tiles felt firm underneath him. He felt a tiny surge of confidence which he took advantage of by thrusting his other leg out quickly. “I got fired. Didn’t Indigo tell you?” He called down, “Surely Stella gave you the gossip, Indigo?” He snatched his hands from the bottom of the window frame and grabbed the solid bottom sill. The roof spun around him. He was terrified.

“Mother? You knew that?” Hazel called.

“I thought I’d better stay out of it,” Indigo said. “I’ve caused enough problems interfering with your life. Watch out, Dean, those tiles are old and falling off.”

Dean looked around at the empty patches on the roof, a black pathway leading down to Hazel’s precarious gutter stand. “Thank you, Indigo. Helpful again.”

“But what are you doing here?” Hazel asked more quietly.

Dean gripped the sill of the window firmly with his right hand and let his body slide down the roof. When the heart-stopping slide finished his feet were still maybe a foot above Hazel’s head. “I’m saving you from falling off the roof.”

His breath was coming fast and furious. He thought back to all the times he'd felt guilty about the stuntmen working so hard on the sets of Rolling Thunder. He'd begged to do some of his own stunts, but the producers had always refused. His face and body just had to look good. It was too dangerous to risk damaging their money-maker. But boy was he was thankful for all of those hours in the gym. To get Hazel out of here he would have to hoist them both up back through that window.

“Hazel can you put your elbows down?" She lowered her elbows and her upper body so she was once again lying flat on the roof. "Good stuff. Now do this carefully, but can you reach behind you and find my foot?”

Hazel slowly swung her arm behind her, a whimper of fear escaped her which only strengthened Dean’s resolve. He would get her out of this. He would save her. Her hand connected with his foot. Indigo started jumping up and down and clapping her hands. her movements drew his attention for a moment and at the sight of the ground so far below he had to stop to let a wave of dizziness pass through him. “You’re doing great, Hay, now listen closely. I will pull my leg upwards to pull you toward me but you need to pull your feet out of that gutter, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered. He heaved his leg upwards, but she didn’t budge. He heard her grunting as she tried to detach her feet from their wedged position in the gutter. "They won’t move. I’m stuck here forever.” Now she was crying, and that was it for him. He wanted her in his arms right now. He wanted to hold her and tell her he'd keep her safe forever. She'd never feel afraid again. He pulled hard with his leg and he felt her pop up and out of the gutter.

“My shoes!” she yelled, but he didn’t stop. He pulled hard with his right arm until he got his left arm on the sill and then pulled himself through the window, falling atop of the wicker chair until his foot, and Hazel’s hand were even with the bottom sill. She was right there, within reach, but still not safe.

He was panting with the effort but they weren’t done yet. “Hold on, okay?” his butt was in the chair and his shoulders practically touched the floor, he did a sit up and reached out with his hands, grabbing onto Hazel’s arm. The problem now was that he couldn’t unhook his heels from the windowsill, so he just pulled her through the window. The chair toppled out from underneath him and they ended up in a jumble on the floor, their noses almost touching, their limbs wound together like a pretzel.

There she was. Right in front of him. And this time he would never let her go. “Hazel,” he whispered, reaching up to sweep her hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

“Dean,” she said, fully crying now. “I cannot believe you’re here. Don’t leave me again, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, and leaned forward to plant the softest kiss on her quivering lips.