"Heath. Honey. Take deep breaths. That's it. Keep breathing and look at me. Don't look anywhere else. Feeling better?"

Heath squeezed Michelle's hand and nodded. He would get through this. If Michelle could push another human being from her body, surely he could sit through the Academy Awards ceremony. If only he didn't feel like he was going to spew any second.

The young actor peeked over his shoulders at the people seated near them. Ang Lee and writers Diana Ossana and Larry McMurtry, along with producer James Schamus were at the table with Heath, Michelle and Anne Hathaway, but one seat was still empty.

"Heathy?"

Heath turned abruptly, nearly knocking Michelle's water glass into her lap. She caught it neatly, brushed off the few drops that landed on her posh gown, and looked up at her big, nervous guy. Her eyes shone softly with amused affection as she pretended to straighten his tie for him.

"He'll be here, babe," she said.

At her words, Heath settled back in his chair. He knew he could trust Michelle. She was wise and honest and loved him as much as he loved her. If she was sure, he'd try to relax.

Heath sipped his ice water and felt the cold of Calgary again. He was a warm weather guy, raised in the sunny climes of Western Australia, a surfer not a skier, and he'd been fairly miserable until he grew used to the cutting cold of the Canadian mountains. As if to directly counter-balance the chill, he'd found the love of his life and a best friend to warm his days and nights. One was sitting beside him; the other was trying Heath's nerves.

"He's nominated," Michelle said in Heath's ear. "He won't miss it."

Heath kissed his mind-reading angel's cheek, and then the orchestra started to play and Jon Stewart walked out onto the stage. The master of ceremonies moved smoothly through a droll, topical monologue with his wry and knowing expression firmly in place, and the 78th Academy Awards had begun.

Category after category, musical number after musical number, tribute after tribute went by and still Jake had not arrived. Heath grew edgier and edgier until he couldn't take it anymore. Leaning toward Michelle, he whispered that he was going to the bathroom. Once outside of the auditorium, he dug his cigarette out and lit up.

"Sorry Mr. Ledger," a page said. "You can't smoke here. You'll have to go down that hall to the lounge. Would you like me to escort you?"

"What? No. No, thank you. I don't … I don't need an escort. Just down there, is it?"

"Yes, Mr. Ledger. Are you sure you don't want me to …"

"I'm sure. I just need … um, excuse me. I'll just go to the … um …"

"The lounge?" the page suggested.

"Yeah. Thanks. Thanks a lot. Have a nice night."

Heath wandered down the hall, cigarette burning forgotten in his hand. The page looked over at his best friend with a 'did you see that, girlfriend?' look. His friend nodded, and rolled his eyes at the seeming cluelessness of hunky young actors. Neither saw the arm that reached out of a doorway halfway down the hall and yanked Heath Ledger inside.

"Shit!" Jake Gyllenhaal cursed. "Get rid of that damned coffin nail."

"Did I burn you? Sorry," Heath was immediately contrite, dropping the smoke and crushing it. "Let me see."

"I'm fine," Jake looked down at the floor. "But I don't think anyone's going to be happy with that burn in the carpet."

"I'm hopeless," Heath sighed. "Bull in a china shop."

Jake laughed. "Try and remember that I pulled you in here somewhat violently."

"Yeah, that's right. It's all your fault. And where in hell have you been? I thought I'd have Michelle on one side and you on the other. Sort of like a little fort."

"Yeah, I know," Jake paused before going on. "You've got to get a handle on this thing. This isn't going to be your last awards show unless you quit acting. You're just too damn good."

"I can't help it. You know how shy I am."

"Yes, I do. And I know how hard it is for you to appear in front of people unless you're playing a part. If you can't be yourself in front of a crowd, you're just going to have to adopt a public persona."

"Adopt a what? Is this the kind of thing where you send money to some third world nation to sponsor a kid? Because I don't do publicity stunts."

Jake laughed again. "Why do you act dumb? You know what a public persona is. You don't have to hide with me, Heath. You know that. And you know that you can trust me, and Michelle, to the end. We'd never betray you, and we'll support you in whatever you do. What the three of us shared during filming isn't going to go away."

"I know. I just …"

"Just what? Forget?"

"Lose confidence."

"We've talked about this. There's no reason for you to feel inadequate. You are very, very adequate. Trust me; I know what I'm talking about."

"You should be at the table," Heath said. "Not hiding in here to shore up my confidence. How'd you know I'd come this way, anyway?"

"Are you kidding? It's the only place you can smoke."

"Right. But they're probably announcing Best Supporting Actor right now."

"Like I'll win. I'm too young. I haven't finished paying my dues yet. And besides, they'll give it to Paul Giamatti for Cinderella man to make up for not nominating Russell Crowe, who's already won an Oscar."

"You're so cynical, Jakey," Heath said fondly, touching the other man's cheek.

"And you're so not," Jake said, curling his fingers around Heath's wrist. "It's why we complement one another so well. Ditto you and Michelle. She's very … grounded."

"Yeah, she speaks highly of you, too," Heath smiled for the first time that evening.

"Hey," Jake said softly. "Remember how scared you were the first time you had to kiss me? I thought you were gonna barf."

"It wasn't that bad."

"You were shaking," Jake said. "When I touched you and felt how hard you were shaking, I didn't know what to think. Then I realized you were just that effin' nervous."

"You and Michelle got me past that."

"You got yourself past it. You became Ennis, and Ennis really wanted to kiss Jack."

"Did I ever thank you for being Jack so I could be Ennis?"

"Hundreds of times. I'm tired of hearing about it, frankly. My point is that you were nervous because you didn't know what to expect, but you overcame it. You can do it out from in front of the camera, too."

"No," Heath shook his head. "I'm just me. I'm Ennis del Mar, or Sir William Thatcher, or Ned Kelly, or Sonny Grotowski … well, maybe I am a little like Sonny."

"That's a terrible thing to say. Come here."

Jake pulled Heath closer and put his arms around him. After a nano-second pause, Heath embraced Jake, leaning his cheek against the other man's.

"See," Jake said. "See how easy it is to show affection to me. If you can do this, you can go out in front of that crowd and accept your award with dignity and grace. Say it."

"I can accept my award with dignity and grace," Heath repeated.

"You really can."

"God, just don't let it be as bad as the SAG Awards."

Jake hugged Heath a little tighter. "Impossible. That was the worst crash and burn I've ever witnessed. I wanted to save you, dude, but it would've taken air support at that point."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Heath tilted his head and touched his lips lightly to Jake's, a gentle pressure and he drew back. Jake raised an eyebrow.

"For luck," Heath explained.

"You're going to be fine," Jake reassured him. "Dignity and grace."

"Dignity and grace," Heath answered, raising his hand as if taking a vow.

"Now you'd better get out there. If Michelle wins and you're not there, she'll have matching shoes and purses made out of our hides."

"You're coming with me."

"Nope. I'm sitting with Maggie and some of her friends. Go on now, buckaroo. I'll see you afterward at the party."

Heath leaned his forehead briefly against Jake's and released him. He walked back to his table and sat down, his demeanor signaling Michelle that he had calmed down considerably.

"That was just a regular cigarette you smoked, right?" she asked archly.

Heath grinned at her, and she shook her head. She had no one to blame but herself for falling in love with this complicated man. However, she considered him worth the time it took to understand him, and she had the rest of her life to study him at close range.

"I love you," she said.

Heath interlaced his fingers with hers and raised her hand to kiss her knuckles. "I love you, too. God, I wish this was over."

But it went on for hours, days, weeks, or so it seemed to Heath, and then he heard the words 'nominees for Best Actor in a Motion Picture are' and he blanked out for a few seconds. He couldn't hear anything but the thudding of his heart and roaring rush of blood in his veins. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and gripped the edge of the table to keep from running away, as he remembered Jake's words to him.

Any moment, his name might be called. Michelle would turn to him with tears pouring down her radiant face and he would kiss her with dignity and grace. Everyone at the table would stand, applauding and embrace him as he passed by with dignity and grace on his way to the stage. He would walk calmly up the steps to the podium, shake the hand of whoever was holding the statuette, and turn to the audience with dignity and grace.

And then, with dignity and grace, he would give a humble acceptance speech thanking everyone before he resumed his seat. He could do it. He WOULD do it. With dignity and grace. Michelle and Jake were going to be so proud of him. So very proud.

The presenter opened the envelope and handed it to the co-presenter, as, a few tables behind Heath's, Jake sat and waited for the name to be announced. He had already thrown off his jacket to reveal a white T-shirt blazoned with large bright red letters. It was an irreverent prank, but he'd warned everyone on Oprah's show. If the right name were announced, Jake was ready to spring up and shout at the top of his lungs.

"Jack Nasty loves you!"

And let everyone make of it what he or she would.