Fools Rush In

Lance yawned as he was poked in the side, squirming away slightly.

"Up, pooper-scooper," Joey told him cheerfully.

Lance groaned softly, shaking his head stubbornly and clinging to his pillow.

Joey chuckled. "Okay, Chris, your turn to try."

"I'm up," Lance mumbled instantly, sitting upright with his eyes still closed.

"Thought that would work," Joey mumbled, sitting down on the opposite bed and staring curiously at his friend as Lance rubbed a hand over his wildly rumpled hair and looked around at the empty room with a scowl.

"Why are you in here? I don't mind, but I thought you, Jace, and Abs were in the other room last night?" Joey asked, crossing his arms as he watched Lance's cheeks flush from more than just waking up.

"Sorry, guess I forgot," Lance mumbled evasively, yawning again and sliding his legs out from underneath the light covers.

"Forgot, huh?" Joey repeated, watching carefully as Lance stumbled upright. He pondered a moment before deciding the direct approach would be best. "Lance, man, did something happen last night?"

"Happen last night?"

Joe could tell by the expression on his face that he was being deliberately obtuse.

"Between you and Abs," Joey clarified patiently.

The color in the younger man's cheeks deepened. "What do you mean, Joe? What on earth would happen between me and Abby?"

"Either you had a fight," Joey paused meaningfully. "Or something else happened to send you running in here for cover."

Lance straightened defensively. "I didn't run in here for any reason. I simply forgot where I was last night. Pardon me."

Joey rolled his eyes at the transparency of the evasive jibe. "That's not going to distract me. So you didn't run in here," he stated agreeably. "Tell me what happened so I don't have to guess, Lance."

"Joe--"

Joey stared at him closely. "Do you know that you've changed? Ever since you first met Abby."

Lance stared blankly into the distance. "I don't feel the same."

Joey's eyebrow's climbed. "Please?" he prodded.

Lance focused on him distrustfully. "Not that anything happened, but why do you want to know?"

"Because I want to know how Abs is going to react this morning."

Lance's eyes widened, and he muttered "Probably like nothing happened" before he could stop himself.

Joey stared at him thoughtfully, hearing the frustration and confusion that Lance couldn't quite disguise. "I don't know if the others noticed or not. JC was distracted from talking to his woman. Justin was almost asleep, and Chris was a little skunked, but you never know."

Lance shuffled his feet nervously, sinking back down onto the mattress. "Noticed what?" he asked cautiously, clasping his hands together in agitation.

Joey shook his head, smiling inwardly. "I never knew you were a fan of classical music, Lance."

"Abby is," Lance muttered automatically, then grimaced.

Joey nodded. "That's probably an interesting story too. But I was more interested to find your socks and her hair thingy out on the balcony this morning, and the radio still playing. Should I guess or would you be kind enough to explain?"

Lance rubbed his face. "Nothing to explain," he murmured.

"Sure?" Joey eyed the other man sympathetically. He didn't envy Lance the feelings he was obviously trying to cope with. Not when dealing with a young woman who embodied the word complications. Not when he himself had his own concerns about them both--he wanted to protect both of his friends, and he wasn't quite sure how to do it best.

Lance looked up at him, his eyes dark with tangled emotions. "No. But what am I going to do about it now?" he asked with bitter humor.

"I might not be the best person to give you advice, but I can listen," Joey offered.

Lance sighed, flopping back on the bed, which bounced gently under his weight.

"What am I supposed to do now?" he asked the ceiling. "Joe, I can't let this become an issue. I can't--" he stopped, frowning.

"You want to start at the beginning?"

Lance gestured impatiently. "I don't even know where the beginning is. From the first second we met in the hotel lobby at the end of April maybe? I'm slowly being sucked in. It doesn't matter that I know better."

Joey diplomatically refrained from asking what he was getting sucked into. He would bet that Lance didn't even know himself. Or wouldn't confront it if he did.

"What about last night?" he asked instead.

Lance closed his eyes, throwing his arm across his face.

"She was up when I came back. She was lonely, I could tell," Lance's voice dropped almost inaudibly. "I don't know, I knew what she was feeling, and I guess I couldn't leave like I should have."

Joey shifted to settle more comfortably against the pillows stacked against the headboard. "You were lonely last night? Chris said you left the club early."

Lance nodded, still not removing his arm. "I dunno…I just got to thinking about things when Jace went off to talk."

Joey nodded in understanding, knowing where Lance was headed. "You couldn't have found a pretty girl to take your mind off things?"

Lance grimaced. "Pretty girls just don't appeal. Any other--" he stopped himself, frowning. "I just didn't feel like it last night. Haven't felt like it in awhile," he admitted slowly, then tried to joke, "Must be going through a slump."

"But you felt like staying with Abs last night?"

"Yeah," Lance replied shortly.

"And you did what?" Joey changed tacks.

"I--well, I just--" Lance fumbled. "She was dancing, Joe."

Joey's eyes widened. "I thought--"

Lance nodded, sitting up abruptly. His eyes shifted to stare intently at the floor. "She was. She can dance." Lance smiled weakly. "She probably has more rhythm than I do. She just doesn't like something she can't see invading her personal space. She can't trust something she can't see."

Joey stared at Lance's downcast face, the pieces clicking together on several levels. He picked the most obvious. "You danced."

Lance nodded reluctantly. "I taught her. Or rather, just convinced her to remember what she already knew. We didn't talk all that much," he added inanely.

"You didn't have to," Joey provided.

Lance's gaze shot up before dropping guiltily, another flush climbing into his cheeks. "You don't want to hear this."

"No, I do. And this won't go any further if you don't want it to."

Lance heaved a sigh. "I don't. This is hard enough already."

"How long were you out there?" Joey asked curiously.

Lance shrugged. "Awhile. She didn't want to stop and I…" Lance hesitated. "We danced until she was practically asleep," he admitted reluctantly.

"That's it?"

Lance nodded.

"And then what?"

Lance chewed on his lower lip, rubbing a hand over his hair.

"I took her into the other room and put her to bed. Then I came over here and crashed."

Joey was silent, assimilating the extreme discomfort on Lance's face as he rubbed his neck, his eyes focused on something only he could see. Something that had happened last night, which Lance wouldn't--or couldn’t--talk about.

"Is that all?" Joey asked tentatively as Lance frowned.

Lance sat forward, propping his elbows on his knees and digging his knuckles into his eyes. "Joey, I can't do this."

"Can't do what? Talk?"

Lance shook his head. "Whatever this is. Our life--you know it's practically impossible. Justin, JC, and Chris are trying, but you've seen--"

"Why would that worry you?" Joey asked, hiding a smile. "Are you talking about you and Abby?" he continued casually.

Lance groaned. "Hell, yes!" Then he backpedaled as he realized what he said. "I mean, I…"

He raised his head, glaring at Joey. "If you breathe a word of this--"

Joey held up his hands in surrender. "You already got my word, man. My lips are sealed. But do you realize what you just--"

"Yes," Lance sighed, then gestured helplessly. "Joey, you have no idea…"

Joey crossed his arms. "I know I'm not looking for anything serious, but that doesn't mean I can't understand."

Lance had the grace to blush slightly. "I know that, man. I just--" He dropped his gaze to the floor. "I should've known better; I knew I should've gotten the hell away from that balcony as soon as I realized she was out there. I can't even blame this one on being drunk. I just couldn't help myself, and now…"

"Now, what?" Joey asked cautiously, feeling a mild case of the willies crawl up his spine at the intense expression in his friend's eyes.

"I don't know, Joe," Lance answered quietly. "All I know is that common sense says I get as far away from Abby as possible."

Joey smiled wryly. "Common sense will tell you a lot of things. Doesn't mean they're the best thing for you."

"In this case, it had better be." Lance's face set stubbornly.

"But why does it have to be that way?" Joey asked, frustrated.

"You know why. Management is only the least of our problems when it comes to girlfriends. With Abby, there's a whole lot of problems added to the list."

"Being blind doesn't change who she is, Lance," Joey countered, mildly angry. "She can probably cope better than anyone I've ever known. Damn, she's had to deal with this all her life. If you can't work past that, then you don't deserve her either."

Lance's eyes widened, and he held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Whoa. I know, Joe. But that's just another reason why this is so hard."

He sighed, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling before rising from the bed, pacing over to the window. "I can't give you a rundown of what I'm feeling because I can't even begin to describe it. But this is about Abby. And she adds a whole new dimension to things."

"And why is that?"

Lance stared morosely out of the window. "Where are the others?"

"Dressed and eating breakfast last time I saw them. We have to be at a radio interview in two hours."

"Abby?" he asked quietly.

"Still sleeping. Why is she so different, Lance?" Joey asked again.

"I'll go take a shower and be out in thirty," Lance skirted the question.

Joey rolled his eyes. "Lance?" he persisted.

Lance pressed his forehead against the cool glass, the sun rapidly rising in the east.

"Abby's never been on a date, never been in a relationship," he listed clinically. "She's never been normally socialized. Wanna bet she doesn't think anything of last night? That she felt anything out of the ordinary?"

He turned, raising an eyebrow as Joey remained silent. "Do you think she's capable of that kind of love?" he asked softly, eyes dark.

Joey grimaced. "Lance, she may not have much recent experience with it, but she knows what love is between people," he stated with certainty. "We've all heard her talk about her parents and grandparents."

Lance frowned, turning back around to face the window. "Then I suppose that always leaves the question if she would feel it for…anyone."

Joey's eyes narrowed, hearing the unspoken words. "That remains to be seen. Guess it's going to take someone special to win her heart and show her what's out there."

He paused, debating whether to say anything else. He shrugged, rising from the bed. What the hell. "Why don't you try, Lance?"

Lance's whole body jerked to attention. The silence lengthened before Lance shrugged abruptly.

"I don't have the time or inclination to find out."

Joey rolled his eyes behind his friend's back. "Guess that's your choice, bro. Just one thing--how much is it worth to you?"

"Worth to me?" came the wary question.

Joey smirked, opening the door. "How much is her love worth to you? And how much are you willing to give up to find out?" he asked. "Because Abby deserves it all." He slipped through the door, shutting it behind him.

Lance dropped his forehead to the glass with a hollow thud, grimacing.

Lance sighed, blinking to clear his unfocused vision.

"But she'll never feel it for me," he whispered into the cocoon of the room, hearing the laughter from the next room. "It doesn't matter how much I give up. It's stupid to even try."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I need to talk to Mom," he muttered, feeling a sudden craving for his home and parents.

But he'd left his phone in his coat pocket. He cursed softly, then went to the bedside table, sighing with relief as he spied Justin's cell phone there.

"Thank you, J," he mumbled, snatching it up and dialing the familiar number. He sank down onto the bed again, sitting cross-legged on top of the rumpled covers and running his hand through his hair repeatedly as he listened to the phone ring through.

"Be home, be home," he mumbled prayerfully.

He looked over as his alarm suddenly popped on.

--Garth Brooks, "The Dance"

The skin on the back of his neck prickled, and he closed his eyes tightly. "You're not helping me, Garth," he muttered.

"Hello? Hello, is anyone there?"

He jerked back to himself, pressing the phone against his ear.

"Mom?"

"Jimmy! Sweetie, I'm so glad to hear your voice! What are you doing?"

He smiled slightly, sinking deeper into the mattress.

"Hi, Mom." He took a breath. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, baby, that's what I'm here for."

Lance reached over and slammed his hand down on the alarm, cutting off the song. You can't miss anything when the feelings aren't reciprocated. He sighed.

"It's sort of complicated."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby's eyes jerked open on a hissed in breath, sweat slicking her skin.

"Abs?" JC's smooth voice asked with concern, sounding muffled through the pounding in her ears. She heard him get up from the floor and walk towards her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked again when she didn't reply.

She gasped, releasing the breath she'd been unconsciously holding.

"I'm fine," she replied hoarsely, clearing her throat and sitting up slowly.

"You're sweating like you just ran a marathon," he pointed out.

She smiled weakly. "Are you tactfully pointing out that my deodorant has expired?" she joked, swallowing against a raspily dry throat.

"Stop that," JC scolded, sitting down beside her. "Was it a nightmare?"

She closed her eyes automatically against the vague feelings and images and voices that filled her head. "I guess," she whispered.

"You don't know?" JC asked gently.

"I can't remember," she whispered the half-truth.

The bed rebounded as he stood and went into the bathroom. The faucet came on and went off seconds later. JC reemerged and came back to the bed, sitting beside her again and picking up her shaking hand.

"Here, take a drink," he told her gently, cupping her hands around the glass. Abby took a few quick sips, sighing as the cool liquid soothed her sore throat.

"Better?"

She nodded, slumping back with renewed exhaustion, her temples throbbing dully. Her muscles ached as if she had indeed run a marathon, and she took another gulp of water as the soreness in her throat returned almost immediately.

"Abs?" JC questioned. "Are you feeling alright?"

She sighed. "Fine, JC." But her voice lacked conviction.

She jumped slightly as the back of a male hand was placed against her forehead.

"Sorry," JC murmured. "Abs, I think you have a temperature."

"I'd hope so, or I'd be mighty cold," she retorted, mildly irritated as she took another gulp of water.

JC chuckled. "Tell me, Abs, do your muscles ache? Head hurt?"

"Yes," she snapped, already knowing where the line of questioning was heading and growing more irritable by the second as her normally acute senses told her exactly what was wrong. "But I'm thinking it might be the company." She sighed. "Sorry."

"That's okay," JC soothed, mildly amused.

"So tell me what your diagnosis is, Dr. Chasez," she grumbled.

"I'm thinking summer cold or flu," JC told her sympathetically. "You hungry, Abs?"

She grimaced. "Not particularly. But I would kill for cough drops and Tylenol," she sighed, slumping back with a groan. "Or maybe just a gun. I hate being sick."

"Poor Abs. Something tells me you're not a pleasant patient," JC remarked.

"Anna says she would rather deal with a pit of angry vipers or my aunt than me when I get sick," Abby admitted.

JC chuckled, reaching out to rumple her hair. She refrained from physical violence. She did not like being touched when sick.

"Stay here, and I'll see about getting you everything but the gun. And something mild to eat. You need to keep your strength up."

She gritted her teeth, knowing he was only trying to help. It wasn't his fault that every word seemed to rankle her tightly strung nerves. "Fine," she sighed. "Thanks, JC."

"You're welcome, sweetie. Try to rest."

JC got up, and the door to the bedroom closed seconds later.

Abby sank back against the pillows with a groan, the pounding in her head worsening. She had lied to JC. She didn't hate being sick.

She absolutely loathed it.

Mainly because it made her life ten times more difficult to cope with. It threw off her balance, coordination, and reflexes, and dulled her senses to the point where she was barely aware of who was in the room with her. And that just went along with feeling like crap. Past experience didn't help, though her bouts were thankfully few. But every sickness was a new trial in endurance for her nerves and the sanity of those unlucky enough to be around her.

And now she didn't have Sunny.

Abby sniffed against the sudden, self-pitying tears, curling up into as small a ball as possible with her aching muscles protesting every move. She felt grungy and sweaty still, and desperately wished for a shower, but couldn't dredge up the energy to face that challenge yet.

She closed her eyes, the dream dancing back. She frowned deeply, unnerved anew by the vague and unsettling emotions.

Caused by her sickness? Abby grabbed onto that explanation, the self-pity surging back at the thought of being at the mercy of her fever-addled mind.

To hell with it. She began to cry at the injustice of it all, allowing herself to feel abused and just plain pathetic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And that's it," Lance released a huge breath with the words.

Silence extended from the other end of the line.

"Mom?"

"Sorry, sweetie, just thinking," his mother answered. "Let me get this straight, hon. You have this friend, who's a girl, who you see all the time. And you think you might be feeling something more than friendship, but you're not sure. You don't even think you want to feel anything more than friendship, but you're not sure about that either?"

Lance rubbed his forehead wearily. "Sounds that stupid, huh?"

His mother's soft chuckle came over the line. "No, baby, just like you're confused. This girl has you tied up in knots, huh? Sweetie, is she playing with your head?"

He immediately shook his head. "No, she doesn't even know what's going on."

More silence. "Jimmy, how could she not know what's going on?"

"It's sort of complicated," he repeated reluctantly.

"Think maybe you should tell me these 'complications'?" came the gentle demand.

He grimaced, knowing that was coming. Hesitantly, he explained about Abby, avoiding actually speaking her name.

The silence was longer this time.

A deeply maternal sigh. "Oh, baby, that's not just a complication, that's a dilly of a pickle."

He grinned faintly. "You don't have to tell me that."

"Do you think that maybe this is just a passing attraction? What does she look like, sweetie?"

Lance smiled faintly. "Like herself. I dunno how to describe her exactly."

"Please don't tell me you went for the tall, busty blonde bimbo type," his mother warned.

Lance snorted a laugh. "Ab-She's about as far from that as you can get. Long black hair, small, a little on the frail side," he frowned worriedly.

"And?"

"And she needs to eat more," he replied.

His eyebrows raised at his mother's laughter.

"What?"

"Nothing, sweetheart. Tell me, what's the first thing a person notices about her?"

He paused, thinking. "If she's out in public, you can't see them because she wears her sunglasses, but she has these unusual eyes. A shade of grey close to silver. But she gets noticed no matter if you can see her eyes or not."

"And why's that?"

A smile curled up his mouth. "She has what you'd call presence. Command. Did I tell you she was a millionaire?"

A pause. "What?"

He shook his head slightly. "We all keep forgetting. She was an heiress, and she has money in her own right. I've had a look at her stock portfolio." He whistled softly to get his point across.

"Well, I guess that rules out her chasing you for your money, and I'm guessing she doesn't want or need the fame," his mother commented slowly.

He rolled his eyes. "If she even chased me in the first place," he muttered, then sighed. "Before she got mixed up with us, she just wanted to be left alone."

"She's truly alone?" his mother asked curiously.

"The family she has isn't worth anything. I know she still grieves for her parents, grandparents, and uncle. And when she lost Sunny, it nearly killed her." Lance still got a bad taste in his mouth when he thought about those harrowing few days.

A soft cluck. "Poor child. So many hard things to deal with over such a short life. Jimmy, are you sure this is wise? She may never be able to trust someone again the way it sounds."

"But you don't know her," he started defensively, getting up to pace restlessly. "Mom, she's got problems, but she has a good reason. And she tries so hard not to let the past rule her life. She's come such a long way even in the short time she's been with us."

"Some people are always ruled by their pasts. I would hate to see you with another heartbreak if things didn't work out."

"I won't end up with my heart broken," he declared stubbornly. "She may not have much experience, but if she loves someone, she would never leave them."

"That's another thing, sweetie. If she's been blind for so long, she might be too sheltered to know what's involved in a relationship. Don't you think--"

"Who really knows what's involved in a relationship?" he asked, his pacing becoming quicker. "Most of it is flying by the seat of your pants, anyway. It's the emotions that keep you together. It doesn't take experience to have commitment. Some people have tons of experience--and no idea of what commitment is." Lance paused to take a breath.

"Are you done defending her?" came his mother's amused question.

Lance felt heat crawl up his face. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"Sounds like you've already made your decision," his mother commented softly.

Lance sank back on the edge of the bed. "No, no I haven't. No matter what I want to do--I have to take everything into account. And that includes the insanity in my life. It's not fair to get Ab--anyone caught up in this craziness over something I'm not even certain of. I don't have the time."

"Then you make the time," his mother replied imperturbably.

Lance raked a hand through his hair. "Make the time? You mean the half-hour a day I manage to scrape to have to myself? I can't ask her--anyone to accept that. It'd be better to just forget the whole thing now," he concluded slowly, sighing.

"Is that your decision?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "Mom," he whined.

"Sweetie, I love you, you know that. But this has to be your decision. You have to decide what's best for you and this girl."

"What if it's the wrong one?" he asked tiredly, staring down at his bare feet.

"James Lance?"

He snapped back into focus. "Sorry, Mom," he apologized absently.

"Off in never-never land?" his mother asked gently.

"Something like that," he murmured.

"Tell me about her," his mother requested.

"What? I've already--"

"No, you told me about the situation. Now, tell me about her. What you see when you look at her or think about her. And this time, start with a name."

Lance switched his gaze to the ceiling. "She's a stubborn cuss. And her name is Abby."

Laughter tinkled across the connection. "I like her more and more. Keep going, baby."

Lance pulled his legs up to sit Indian-style, taking a breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I need the Tylenol too," Chris grumbled, shifting carefully in his seat.

Joey shook his head. "Your headache is your own fault. Deal."

Chris tried to kill him through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. "I hate people who can hold their liquor and get up the next morning."

Joey grinned at him. "Good morning, sunshine. And I'm bigger than you are."

Chris made a rude gesture, laying his forehead on the table carefully, then groaning as JC set the tray on the table with a clatter. He smiled sweetly.

"Troubles this morning, Christopher?"

"As God as my witness, I will never drink to excess again."

"You wanna go clubbing again tonight?" Justin asked, looking up from his cereal and grinning.

"Yes," Chris answered without hesitation.

"Sometimes I don't understand you," JC shook his head, setting a bottle of Sprite on the tray along with a glass of ice.

"How was she feeling?" Justin asked with concern, playing in his cereal as he watched.

"Lousy, and probably going to get worse," JC told him. "And no, you can't see her. I've already been exposed, but the rest of you need to keep your distance. The last thing we need is for one of us to get sick in the middle of touring. Someone tell Lance when he appears. He's more susceptible than anyone."

Justin rolled his eyes and crunched another bite of cereal. "Where is Lance?" he asked Joey. "I thought you were getting him up."

"He is. He's taking a shower and stuff," Joey replied absently, reading the comics.

Having run out of questions, Justin stared grumpily at his cereal, mildly perturbed. "Abs should be around people, it'll make her feel better," he commented to the table.

Joey and Chris made agreeing noises, both immersed in the paper. JC snorted. "I don't think Abs would agree with you there, Curly. I don't think she's going to be a happy patient. Best keep your distance so you keep more than your health."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Gin," Joey whispered, laying out his cards with a triumphant smile.

Chris made a disgusted face and threw down his cards. "I want to play something else," he whispered back.

Joey shrugged and smiled, gathering up the cards to shuffle again.

They both froze as Abby stirred on the other couch.

"Who's here?" came her raspy, thick voice from the mess of blankets.

"Me and Joe," Chris replied cautiously. "You need anything, sweetie?"

"No," was the irritable reply. "I'm thirsty."

Joey rolled his eyes and left the couch to go to the kitchen for another glass of Sprite. Chris got up and wandered over to the couch and its occupant, pausing once as the bus bumped and weaved slightly.

"Abs?"

One dull, dark eye cracked open out of habit. "Go 'way, Chris," Abby sighed tiredly. "Get sick too."

The eye closed, lashes drifting over the deep violet smudges beneath her lower lids. Chris reached for the damp washcloth on her forehead, swinging it around to cool it down as he'd seen his mother do. "How are you feeling, magic?"

"Crappy," she mumbled, then shivered.

Chris reached down and tucked the covers around her shoulders, feeling her jump slightly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you."

She grumbled something unintelligible, eyes squinching, and he tried not to laugh. JC was right, that past few days had been truly hellish.

Abby didn't react well to being sick.

She didn't want to move. She didn't want to speak. Didn't want to be spoken to. When she was forced, she was surly or downright rude depending on what kind of mood she was in. And above all, she couldn't tolerate being touched.

"What are you staring at?" Abby's surly voice brought him back to reality with a bang.

"You," he answered baldly.

"Why?" Abby grumped.

"You need a shower real bad."

"Thanks a whole hell of a lot for the newsflash, sherlock," she growled.

"I just believe in being honest," Chris answered cheerfully, bathing her forehead as gently as possible.

"Next time try telling me something I don't know," came the irritated reply as she batted weakly at his hands.

"How are you at trivia?" he inquired.

"Christopher, don't torment Abs," JC interrupted, walking into the lounge. "How are you feeling, magic?"

"Crappy," Chris answered for her. "Already asked that. Try being more original next time, Jace. Keeps the ladies interested longer," he smirked at JC's eye roll.

"We're almost at the hotel," JC informed them. "You all packed and ready?"

Chris nodded.

"Joy," Abby muttered sarcastically, and they both snickered.

Chris looked back at the feverish young woman on the couch, shaking his head in sympathy. He had an inkling why she reacted so badly to being sick. "You know you suck at being sick, Abs?" he asked. 

She grimaced as the bus slowed to turn. "Everyone needs a special talent," she muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Be good, have fun, no wild parties while we're out," Justin admonished playfully.

"I'll try and restrain myself," Abby replied dryly, trying to muster the energy to be civil. She felt mildly guilty at the way she'd been acting the past few days.

"Are you going out tonight?" she asked tiredly.

"Wow, two sentences. Two. Whole. Sentences. We are truly blessed," Joey teased.

"Go make the ten-year-olds scream," Abby retorted.

"So spirited," JC joked, and she jumped as a wrist was placed against her forehead. She closed her eyes in frustration before dismissing the feeling. And the urge to smack that disembodied hand off of herself.

"Actually, I like to think mine are at least thirteen," Joe remarked.

"Yeah, the ten-year-olds are Justin's," Chris agreed.

Abby smiled slightly.

"Oh. My. God. She smiled. I can die a happy man," Chris exclaimed tearfully. "Someone hand me a hankie."

"You still have a fever, Abs," JC told her. "You--"

"Man, you better not be using my sleeve as a snotrag," Justin threatened.

"I'm not," Chris promised innocently.

JC cleared his throat with amusement. "We always carry cold medicine and other stuff with us. Maybe you should take some for your fever and see if it can't kick it."

Abby made a non-committal sound, hearing JC sigh with exasperation before the couch rebounded as he stood.

"Alright. Let's go. We're almost going to be late."

"Isn't that the same thing as being on time?" Chris inquired.

"Sort of like nearly dying?" Joe stated mock-thoughtfully. "Aren't you still alive?"

"Go!" JC ordered.

Abby smiled slightly, listening intently until the door was shut behind them. Then slumped back weakly, feeling her energy reserves collapse.

Tiredness tugged at her bones, making her muscles feel as if they'd been cast in lead. Every movement screamed at her to stop, even breathing wore her out. Each heartbeat throbbed in her head, her senses wrapped in layers of cotton. She desperately wanted a shower after going almost four days without, but she wanted sleep even more.

Her only problem seemed to be that she woke even more exhausted from the constant tossing and turning than rested from what little sleep she managed in between her fever-induced dreams. She winced slightly, blocking the snippets of sound and images out.

What was worse, the strange dreams made it harder to act normally around Lance in her waking moments. She was grateful that all her irrational moods were attributed to being sick. Lord knew she couldn't handle both.

"Abby?"

She shrieked softly, nearly throwing herself off the couch in surprise as Lance's voice emerged from behind her. She hadn't even been aware that he hadn't left, and she once again cursed being sick, which made her nearly unconscious to everything going on around her.

"Abby? Ba--Abby, are you okay?" Lance's concerned voice came from directly in front of her now, and she drew back slightly, disoriented as she curled into the couch, hunching beneath her blankets.

Unaccountable tears pressed against her throat, making her voice even huskier than usual.

"Fine," she managed over the sluggish pounding of her heartbeat. "Just surprised me. Why are you still here?"

"Was getting some of my stuff. Just like them to forget me," he added humorously. "Why didn't you stop them? Did you want company that bad?"

He made a joke of it, knowing how many times she snarled at the others to leave her alone and not to touch her, and she smiled weakly. She had to swallow as the knot in her throat swelled, unshed tears burning against her eyelids. Because she didn't want him to go. His presence actually was something of a comfort to her. She shied away from the thought, ascribing it to the fact that Lance had taken the hint and respected her desire to be left alone while sick.

That was all. She missed having him near. Cracking lame jokes just to make her laugh and catching her off guard with double-sided comments.

"Abby?" Fingers touched her forehead and she jerked in surprise.

"JC was right. You still have a fever. Take something for it," he urged quietly.

She hesitated. "Maybe," she hedged. "You better hurry."

He was shaking his head. "Why won't you take anything?"

"It makes me feel funny," she admitted, fidgeting with the fuzzy fringe of her blanket. "And I have problems moving around."

"We're here for the rest of the night. Just take it so you can sleep through the night without tossing and turning."

She stopped playing with the blanket. "You heard that?" she asked without thinking.

"Yeah," he answered briefly, his voice suddenly coming from above her as he stood.

She hesitated. "Maybe," she half-promised. "Are you all going out tonight?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, probably. You staying in?" he deadpanned.

She half-smiled. "Yeah, probably. Just me and my blanket and maybe the TV if I'm feeling really adventurous."

A deep chuckle. "Try to rest. We'll be quiet when we come back to change."

She nodded, slumping down as she listened intently, hearing him pick something up. "Be careful," she offered, knowing he was about to leave.

"We always are," came the reply.

She rested her cheek on the arm of the couch, closing her eyes automatically as fatigue spilled through her in a heavy wave.

"Abby?" His voice warned her as a finger tapped her nose gently.

"Say goodbye, Abby. I'll see you in the morning."

She tried to smile, almost too tired to form the expression. "Bye, Abby. See you in the morning."

Lance laughed softly. "Smartass."

"Still got it," she murmured, her mind drifting pleasantly away from her tongue.

"Though a little lame," he agreed.

"Not little," she mumbled without thinking.

There was a longer than expected pause, and she opened her eyes a slit, wondering what she'd said.

"Lance?"

A deep breath. "Night, Abby."

She frowned slightly. "Night."

A finger touched her wrinkled brows, pushing the ridges down with a feather-light touch. "Night."

Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

Her eyes flickered open briefly before exhaustion pulled them downward again. Her muscles relaxed against her will, and sleep claimed her almost instantly, her body craving what little sleep she could muster before restless dreams or her stuffy nose could wake her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her body jerked, a small cough working from her as her breathing hitched in an attempt to open her suddenly plugged nose.

She dimly tuned in to the movement scuffling around her and struggled upright.

"Abs? Go back to sleep, darlin'."

Joe. Abby grimaced, and could have sworn her muscles creaked. "Have to pee," she mumbled, throwing off the blanket.

"Oh, great," she heard him mutter. "JC!"

Abby winced as the call assaulted her eardrums.

"What?" JC asked, sounding breathless.

"Abs has to pee," Joe explained patiently.

"Oh, okay," JC's hands were under her elbows to assist her to her feet.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, coughing thickly.

She swayed dizzily with her first step, feeling light-headed and oddly hot, her muscles shaky.

"Naw, this is me answering my past life as a candy striper," JC joked, guiding her uncertain steps to the bedroom.

Abby gave up after the first few and leaned against his side heavily.

"Have I mentioned I hate being sick?" she muttered.

"I vaguely recall," JC agreed. "But you've coped pretty well."

Abby snorted, then winced as her head viciously protested the action. JC stopped, and she sighed, swaying slightly.

"What's wrong?" she asked dizzily.

"Lance is finishing up in the bathroom."

With the information, she finally registered the steam faintly filling the room, the damp heat emanating from the door.

"Oh," she murmured, too tired to be frustrated.

A door clicked in its jamb seconds later.

"Hey, what're you doing up?" Lance asked, startled.

"Pee," she answered simply, simplifying her answer as her energy ebbed. Only her locked knees kept her upright.

A soft snort. "Short, sweet, and to the point," JC chuckled.

She could hear Lance's smile. "Hold on, let me check." A pause. "Okay, it's cool."

Abby sighed as JC began urging her into the steamy room. "Here you go, magic. Can you take it from here?"

"Yes," she managed to mumble.

"Okay." With that, JC escaped, leaving her leaning against the sink counter. With a sigh, she baby stepped her way to the corner's edge. An investigative shin found the cold porcelain of the commode, and she sighed with relief, then grimaced.

One heartfelt sigh.

Then popped the seat down with a grumble.

Slowly, but surely, she completed the call of nature and flushed the toilet, flipping the cover down with another grimace as her body protested moving again.

She leaned over the sink as she held her soaped hands under the gushing water, the coolness invading her veins until her muscles reminded her that she needed to lay down. She splashed water against her heated face before drying both with the towel, her hand barely missing the bag of toiletries lying on the counter.

She looked towards the door as someone knocked.

"Didja fall in?" Justin voice asked.

She half-laughed, half-groaned. "No," she sighed.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

She stayed at the counter, turning her head tiredly as Justin came up behind her.

"I have been sent to fetch you," he announced grandly.

"Okay," she held out her arms.

"You want me to touch you?" Justin asked, startled.

She shrugged. "Too tired to care," she sighed, leaning against the counter more heavily.

"Poor magic," Justin clucked sympathetically. The ridiculous sound made her smile weakly.

"Come to Justin."

She grunted as she was picked up. "Warning: quick motions make me pukey," she muttered.

"Duly noted. Don't want you to blow chunks on my fine self."

She groaned softly, resting her head against his chest as she was carried back into the sitting room.

She was settled onto the couch again. "Leaving?"

"Yeah. The others are out here." There was mild curiosity in his voice and she cuddled into the couch, her aching body grumbling.

"Can't sense them," she explained without energy.

"Poor magic," Justin murmured again. A knuckle was whisked under her lower lids. "You just seem to get more and more tired. Rest while we're out. No drunken stupors, we promise."

She smiled wanly. "I will." She started as four other forms leaned over the back of the couch, patting her through the blanket.

"Night," was chorused accompanied by the odor of freshly washed males, which was strong enough to get through her stuffy nose.

"Night," she rasped. "Touch my ass again, lose your hand, Joe."

"See, you're getting better, you knew it was me," Joey replied cheerfully.

Abby sighed, pulling the blanket over her head as Joe yelped.

Justin laughed softly, patting her covered head. "Night, magic."

Abby lowered the blanket when the door closed, staring up into the oppressive darkness. She sniffled, then wiped at the self-pitying tears.

She rolled over onto her back, her nose immediately plugging up as tears oozed from the corners of her eyes. She reached up to rub the tracks away, grimacing as her fingers encountered the greasy strings of her hair.

Slowly, she sat up, climbing shakily to her feet as her head throbbed ominously.

"Too bad," she told her aching body. "Shower I will, so you're coming too."

Abby made her way back into the bathroom, suffering with soft curses through the numerous encounters with furniture and finally the doorframe before entering the smaller room.

She made the circuit of the room, finding clean towels on the bar. Abby stood for a minute, mentally figuring out where her own toiletries might be. With a soft groan, she made her way over to the counter, cautiously patting through the contents of the bag there before settling on the items she needed.

"Lance won't mind," she muttered into the silence, taking a sniff of the shampoo he used. The smell reached her faintly, and she relaxed, the throbbing in her temples easing.

She methodically went through the motions of preparing everything for her shower, forcing her sluggish muscles to work the way she wanted. It took twice as long as it normally would have, but she did it.

When she finally flipped the water on and adjusted it to the temperature she wanted, it was with a sense of muted triumph. The feeling remained through the shower, shoring up her flagging strength until she'd thoroughly washed away the grunge of the past few days, mildly pleased that the steam had cleared her breathing partially.

It was only when she stood on the mat wrapped in a towel, ready for yet another nap and still dripping, that she realized that she had no idea where her clothes were. She whimpered softly, seriously contemplating crawling in one of the beds in nothing but a towel.

With a groaning sigh, she slowly dried herself off, wrapping her dripping hair, saronging the towel again and kicking her clothes into the corner before finding her way into the other room.

"Duffel, duffel, duffel," she mumbled under her breath. She literally stumbled upon one next to the bed and plopped on the floor, unzipping it with a mumbled thanks.

Abby searched by feel for several minutes, sleep calling her more seductively. With a muttered oath, she thrust her hand into the bag again, then yelped as her knuckles barked against something hard. She pulled the book out of the bag, flexing her hand with a wince before setting the book on the floor and delving back in.

She finally grabbed something silky that felt like one of the jerseys Justin was always wearing and a pair of similar feeling shorts. Without worrying any further, Abby donned the clothes.

That done, she hauled herself to her feet once more and stumbled back into the sitting area. One whiff of the sheets she'd been in sent her in search of the phone.

"Front desk, may I help you?"

She gruffly explained what she wanted and closed the connection with a sigh, curling up in another chair after unlocking the door. The knock came as she was drowsing and she called for housekeeping to enter.

When the older woman left, Abby crawled back onto the couch with a grateful groan, burrowing under the cool, fresh sheets before reemerging and patting her way across the room service tray on the coffee table. With a gulp of air, she swallowed the liquid cough and cold medicine in the cup, grimacing at the sugary grape flavor. More investigation found the TV remote, and she flipped the mindless entertainment on to occupy her wandering mind.

She settled into the couch in her favorite position curled on her side, listening dreamily as the late night movie played. The plot gradually registered. Dirty Dancing. She vaguely remembered seeing the movie before she'd gone blind. Remembered being enthralled with the way the characters danced.

Unlike then, now she could hear the underlying sexuality. A short laugh escaped her. She wouldn't recognize sexual tension in her own life if it bit her on the butt, but she could on TV. How ironic. A yawn broke free, her mind feeling fuzzy as the medicine worked. The familiar, and mildly unnerving, spacey feeling enveloped her as the canned thunderstorm reached her from the TV.

Her throat closed, and her eyes jerked open, staring blankly as the dream faded into the mists of memory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yes, Joe, I know what the dictionary definition of my name is," Lance rolled his eyes as Joey snickered, leaning heavily against the wall for support.

"Okay, dude, we have to be quiet, cause Abs is asleep. Justin, are you still awake?" JC asked suspiciously.

Eyes closed, Justin mumbled, "Yes, Mom. Can I have a drink of water?"

Lance snorted, shifting to support Justin's weight as Mike fumbled with the keys to the room. Dre grabbed Joe as he threatened to slide down the wall, still grinning.

The door clicked open quietly. JC urged Justin inside, followed by Lance and Chris, then Dre and Joey.

Lance winced when Joey suddenly spoke. "That blonde would have liked this place. She loved balconies."

"Shhh," JC hushed, shaking his head.

"Yeah, Joe," Chris agreed loudly. "Some people are trying to sleep. You can bring home a blonde another night."

Lance sighed. "Shut up, Chris," he ordered softly, listening for the tell-tale rustling that would signal Abby waking up.

"What?" Chris inquired, then yawned. "I'm going to bed. We have an early morning."

JC snorted. "Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Gramps."

Chris waved a hand, grabbing Justin's elbow to guide him to the bedroom.

"Just put Joe in with them," JC directed at Dre's questioning look. "None of them will be conscious enough to notice the other's snoring."

Joey looked at him, offended. "I don't snore."

"Yes, you do," Abby's scratchy voice refuted weakly.

"Abs!" Joe exclaimed happily, disengaging from Dre to stumble over to the couch, circling around to kneel in front.

"Darlin'! How you feeling?"

A tousled black head appeared slowly from among the blankets. "A litte better, Joe. What time is it?"

Lance checked his watch as JC shut the door behind Dre and Mike. "Two in the morning," he answered softly. "Sorry to wake you."

Joey immediately hugged her, contrite. "We woke you?! I'm sorry, Abs."

Abby shook her head as Lance smiled ruefully. "Yeah, well, that's okay, Joe. You just saved me from some weird dreams."

"Okay. Then I'm going to bed. My work here is finished," he declared grandly.

"I hope he only has delusions of grandeur under the influence of alcohol," Abby remarked after he shut the bedroom door, humming the theme to "Mission: Impossible".

"Yeah. Completely sober, he just has delusions," Lance supplied, catching her smile before she sank back down. Lance approached the couch cautiously.

He peered over the side, finding Abby's eyes open, staring with a distinctly troubled expression towards the ceiling.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. He'd kept his concerns to himself when she'd gotten sick, and kept his distance because Abby was so adamant about not infecting them all. And it had been surprisingly hard to do as she wished. Seeing her so obviously miserable and not doing anything to tangibly help was torture.

"Did you take something?" he asked again when she didn't reply.

The dark slate of her gaze blinked, then focused slowly. "Yeah," her unnaturally husky voice emerged sluggishly.

"Yeah to what?" he prodded, concern tightening his muscles.

She blinked again. "I'm okay. I took something."

He sank down onto his heels, folding his arms across the back of the couch and watching a strange expression flutter over her face.

"I'm hitting the sack. You coming, Lance?" JC wandered towards the bedroom holding a bottle of water.

Lance waved an arm as he went into the bedroom, keeping his eyes on Abby's face.

"Are you sure you're okay? Tell the truth, Abby."

A faint smile that didn't reach her tired eyes. "I'm okay. Feeling like something the cat dragged in is par for the course."

"It didn't help you sleep any better?"

Abby turned and stretched slightly, burying her head in the pillow. "I think it made the dreams worse," she sighed almost inaudibly.

His ears perked up. "Dreams? What dreams? Are you having--"

"Lance?"

Lance looked around at JC's strange tone.

"Abby, did you take a shower?"

Lance looked back at her, registering her changed appearance for the first time with surprise.

"Yeah." She sat up abruptly, wincing. "I used some of your things since I didn't know where mine were. Is that alright?"

"Doesn't matter to me. But since it was all Lance's--" JC smirked slightly.

"It doesn't matter," Lance cut him off quickly, wondering at the odd expression on JC's face. "Use whatever you need, Abby. Your things are probably back on the bus. You need your rest, so go back to sleep." He rose, ending the conversation abruptly.

"O-okay," Abby curled up again, turning away from him on her side in an almost protective motion.

Lance started to walk away before automatically turning back and pulling the covers up over Abby and stepping away.

He brushed past JC to go into the bedroom. "What?"

"I never thought you were a fan of children's books, Lance."

His step paused, heart beating faster. "What are you talking about?"

"The Velveteen Rabbit? Explain that one for me, Scoop." There was curiosity, but no glee in JC's voice.

Lance knew JC wouldn't tease. That didn't make explaining it any easier.

He looked his friend in the eye. "You aren't going to tell anyone else about this, are you?"

JC raised an eyebrow, sitting on the edge of his bed and picking up the thin book. "Does that mean there's something to tell?"

"You read the inscription, right?" Lance sat tiredly on the edge of his own bed, wrinkling his nose after catching a whiff of his clothes. He pulled off his shirt before crawling under the cool sheets and holding out his hand.

"I saw the inscription. Do you know what it says?" JC handed him the book.

Lance shook his head, staring at the faded watercolors on the cover. "No."

"Well?"

"It was in her backpack."

JC frowned, stacking his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

"Backpack?"

Lance grimaced, sliding the thin volume under his pillow, then leaned up. "When she left it at the hotel afterwards," he admitted reluctantly, then snapped off the light and sank down into his pillow.

The light snapped back on.

"In her backpack?"

Lance gritted his teeth. "Yes." He snapped the light off.

The light snapped on.

"You've kept it this long?"

"Yes," he grunted, snapping the light off firmly.

The light snapped on. Lance groaned and buried his face in his pillow.

"Lance, why--"

"I don't know," he yelped softly. "I just kept it." He snapped the light off, then yanked the plug from the wall.

"It could be--"

"No, it couldn't."

"You just said you didn't know."

"I don't."

A beat of silence.

"The book is real old, and worn."

"Yeah."

"I wonder who Simone Dupri is."

"Dunno."

"Will you give it back to her?"

Lance closed his eyes in the darkness. "How can I?" he hedged.

"Dunno. But it must be special to her."

He sighed, thinking about the dog-eared pages and the momentos pressed between them.

"I know it is."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby sat up with a sigh, burying her face against her knuckles.

"You're clean, you're as comfortable as you're going to get. Sleep dammit."

The suite was silent around her, and she was suffering from insomnia. Not just insomnia. She was almost afraid to go to sleep. Idiotic. You have nothing to be frightened of. Except for the obscure and ambiguous dreams that chased her. Trying to catch her and force her to face something she was desperately trying to avoid having to deal with. Something she'd been dancing around with for…

Dancing. She groaned, grinding her eyelids with her knuckles to erase the persistent thoughts and growing suspicions tapping on the corners of her mind and insidiously invading her heart.

The feeling on the balcony came back to her again. Why can't I be kept in the dark on this one? she demanded silently, feeling a pang of mild panic twist her stomach.

"Abs?"

She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. "Justin?" she gasped softly, heart racing. "You dolt. What are you doing?"

"Dunno. Just couldn't sleep." The edge of the cushions depressed. "Something wrong?"

"No. Just--no," she mumbled, frustrated.

"You sound a little bit better now. How do you feel?"

She tested her body out, and exhaled slowly with relief. "I am getting better. I'll be fine in the next day or two."

A large male hand curled around hers. "You sound like your old self too. What's wrong, magic?"

She frowned, searching desperately for some sort of reaction to his touch. "The fact that I sound like myself means something is wrong?"

Justin laughed under his breath. "If you were any of the guys…but, no, you just sound like something's wrong."

Abby opened her mouth to deny it in automatic response, but the words wouldn't come when bidden. Her throat knotted, and she took a shaky breath filled with horror. Control, Abby. Get control. You can deal with this.

"Abby?" Justin's soft voice invaded the silence, concerned and filled with worry. "What is it?"

The urge to cry was becoming overwhelming. Her life suddenly seemed so confusing and emotionally torn. And she couldn't figure out what had happened to the death grip she'd held so successfully on her emotions for so long.

"I…just…" She wished with desperation that her parents were here. That she could find escape in her father's strong arms from all this. From something she couldn't even define. Didn't want to.

"You don't have to say anything, magic. But you know I'm here if you need me, right?" Justin whispered, touching her cheek.

Her chest tightened. So simple. All she had to do was--open her arms. The unbidden thought sent a chill of goosebumps through her.

Without thinking, she crawled out of her tangled blankets and over to Justin, cuddling against his side without words, praying he wouldn't ask questions.

"Magic?" Justin automatically lowered his voice, and she nearly lost it when he didn't just accept her wordless request to be close, he gathered her closer, carefully situating her on his lap so she was being held securely, her head against his heart as she was hugged tightly. He couldn't have known that it was the same way her father used to hold her.

Abby struggled, gulping back the urge to cry even as tears trickled down her cheeks.

"What's wrong? Abs, you never cry." A large hand rubbed her back in soothing circles, and her world went into motion as she was rocked slowly.

"Abs?"

"I don't know. I just--don't know, Justin," she whispered thickly. "Things just seem so out of control. Do you ever feel like you've lost control of everything in your life, even your feelings?"

The rocking paused, and she felt a twist of paranoid panic.

"Justin?"

The rocking resumed. "Sometimes. Everyone feels like that sometimes. It's normal, Abs."

"Normal," she echoed softly. "I'm not normal," she murmured sadly. "Why do I have to deal with this?" A bitter laugh escaped her. What a way to find out she was more normal in some ways than she ever hoped to be.

Why couldn't I have stayed in the dark for this one?

"What are you dealing with?" Justin probed cautiously.

She hesitated. "I--I'm not sure. I--" The need for privacy was too ingrained to talk about something this personal. She cringed away from the thought of revealing anything of the fragile emotions her traitorous heart was nurturing.

She wasn't supposed to feel these things.

She was supposed to be a non-gender.

Because there wasn't any hope for the feelings being returned.

She shuddered slightly. You're not supposed to want them to be returned. You were meant to live alone. Kill this now! Before this gets worse. What happened to just wanting to be content as you were?

Justin's arms tightened as the first sob broke free, filled with confusion and pain.

"Abby?" he crooned.

But this was Lance.

Abby flinched, curling her hands tighter in the soft cotton of Justin's undershirt as her tears dampened his chest.

Tears from blind eyes. They had all accepted her without restrictions. As their friend.

Bitterness filled her eyes with burning tears.

"Abs?" Justin demanded.

A harsh sob broke from her, the muted pounding in her skull reawakening. "Please," she whispered, hiding her face against his shoulder. Don't ask.

"It's alright. I'm here," Justin soothed.

He began to hum a vaguely familiar lullaby, rocking her gently, and she clung to him gratefully, something deep inside her mourning the loss of security in her heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance sighed as his mind jerked awake for the millionth time in the past hour, vague half-asleep images meandering around his head.

He sat up, rubbing his sweaty chest, which felt tight and itchy. Quietly, he slid out from beneath the sheets and padded to the door, letting himself out silently.

Then stiffened as he spied Justin's lean, athletic form hunched over something on the couch. Abby. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out.

He padded quietly up behind them, catching the soft humming a split second before Justin became aware of his presence. God Must Have Spent he realized.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, smothering a yawn.

Justin shook his head. "Dunno. She just started crying."

His back muscles stiffened. Abby rarely cried. He examined her face closely in the dim light, seeing the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks and feeling his stomach twist.

"Asleep?" he checked.

"Think so," Justin yawned through the answer.

Lance rubbed a hand over his face. "Go to bed, J. We have another busy day tomorrow."

Justin yawned again. "It's almost August," he pointed out absently.

"A few more days," Lance agreed.

Justin's eyes were almost closed. "I don't want to leave her out here alone…"

Lance rubbed his face again. "Go. I'll stay out here." He gestured to the love seat. "I'll crash there. Go to bed."

"Sure?"

Lance nodded. "Get her settled, and I'll go get a blanket and pillow."

"I can stay--"

"That love seat would kill you. Go sleep in a bed."

"Okay."

Lance turned to go back in the bedroom, grabbing a blanket and his pillow. At the last second, his eye caught on the worn cover of the book he'd shoved under his pillow. A lumpy, whimsical stuffed rabbit had been etched there behind the wash of colors. With a sigh, he grabbed it and tucked it between his blanket and pillow.

Justin was crouched over the couch, waiting patiently, his eyes closed.

"I'm here, go to bed," Lance ordered softly, settling on the love seat.

Justin stood, stretching briefly before tucking the blankets around Abby's shoulders gently while Lance watched.

Justin caught his stare. "What?" he yawned.

Lance busied himself creating a makeshift bed on the short couch. "You really care about her."

"Yeah," Justin answered without thinking about it, scrubbing a hand through his rumpled curls. He looked back at Lance sharply. "Why?"

Lance fluffed his pillow carefully. "Why do you think that is?" he hedged.

Justin shrugged. "I dunno. Why are you friends with some people? Part of it was the fact that she needs people. Part of it is the fact that she seems to bring out my better side no matter how bad the day. But mostly it's just her. She's just Abby. And she treats me like Justin. Just Justin, even while we're dragging her all over the country. She does the same for all of us."

Lance nodded silently, sitting on the edge of the couch gingerly.

"Lance?" Justin asked after a moment.

"What?" he replied almost inaudibly.

"Nothing."

Lance looked up, watching as Justin closed the bedroom door quietly behind him. And had the uncanny feeling that he should be grateful Justin held his tongue.

With a sigh, he plopped down on the love seat, wondering again why he was doing this. There must be a dozen reasons to forget this and go to bed. And only one reason to stay. His eyes were drawn inexorably back to the tousled figure on the couch. He swallowed, closing his eyes tiredly.

Calling himself every kind of a fool.

Next thing he knew, his eyes were open again, staring into space. He shook his head slightly, trying to get more comfortable on the couch, then winced as something dug into his side.

He reached down and pulled out the thin volume again, running his fingers over the cover in the near darkness. Without thinking, he stretched out an arm, the lamp clicking on quietly and chasing back the shadows.

He stared at the rabbit etched on the cover again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A faint cough brought his eyes up, and Lance watched tensely as the blankets shifted with Abby's restless movements.

Finally, she settled again, sighing.

Lance glanced back down at the book in his lap, opening and flipping it to the inside back cover. The small, rectangular silver plate glinted in the low light, and he picked it up delicately, running his finger over the name engraved there.

Lance flipped it over automatically, reading the simple inscription on the back yet again.

He smiled sadly, slipping the silver plate inside the back cover before opening the book again, letting it fall naturally open, the pages worn to dog-eared tatters, wrinkled and smudged by small, dirty fingers.

Lance fingered the pages gently, feeling the fragility of many handlings clearly. He scooped up the crackling, faded, dry petals as they showered from between the pages. Daisies and roses and others he couldn't recognize.

His disturbing movements sent the delicate chain caught between the pages sliding free, and he caught the small, gold coin medallion as it settled against his ribs. Along with pieces of paper written on in childish scrawl. His thumb rubbed over the image of the saint and cross inscribed on the medallion before gathering up the papers, notes from a child to her dead mother and father.

Asking God to watch over them in Heaven.

He avoided reading them again, setting all the treasures carefully on the small table under the glow of the lamp before turning the last page.

He stared silently at the faded photograph, the corners worn round from contact. But the surface was almost pristine, free of fingerprints.

Abby was pictured there. Silver-grey eyes glowing with happiness and the pure joy of being a child. Her long black hair was held back with silver ribbons. Her hands were clasped demurely in her black velvet covered lap, in contrast to the mischief that sparkled in her eyes and tipped her smile, inviting the watcher to laugh with her.

A smile curled his mouth as he looked into her expressive eyes, free from any shields or guardedness. Beside her sat a slender, beautiful woman with Abby's eyes and raven black hair.

A more mature version of Abby's smile curved her mouth, and contentment shone in her soft eyes as she sat with one hand clasping her husband's over Abby's own.

Pride and possessiveness sparked in the man's green gaze, his hawkish features stamped more finely on his daughter's delicate face. One arm was wrapped around his wife's shoulders, and a smile only faintly erased the natural sternness of his face, but a grin lurked in his eyes.

The love shared by the small group of people was obvious. What Abby had lost with their deaths was even more so.

With a sigh, he placed the picture on the table with the others, flipping idly back through the pages until his eyes caught on a passage.

His mind slowed, aching with tiredness as he traced the marks on the page over the words, blotched and faintly blurred with tears shed in years past.

His eyes jerked upwards as Abby stirred more violently, the covers being kicked abruptly to the side as she twisted. He hurriedly set the book aside, throwing off his own sheets to cross the short distance.

Lance knelt by the couch in time to see Abby's eyes snap open with a gasping breath, sweat bathing her forehead.

"Abby?" he reached out tentatively, touching the jut of her chin.

She gasped again, beginning to breathe in a rush.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, touching her damp forehead.

"You're cool," he whispered, surprised. "Your fever must have just broken. Abby?"

She blinked, then gradually relaxed. "Lance?"

"I'm here," he murmured. "Are you alright?"

She frowned in confusion. "Where am I?" she yawned.

An involuntary smile crept over his lips. "Sofa city, sweetheart. You've had issues with actual beds while you were sick."

She nodded sleepily. "Too big. Confusing."

He tilted his head to the side, surprised. "I never thought about that." He stroked her sweaty forehead, rubbing a thumb across the shining bridge of her nose. "How do you feel?"

She shrugged, tucking her hands under her cheek with another yawn. "Tired."

"Anything else?"

"Uh-uh."

"How's your head? Throat? Sniffles?"

She murmured something.

"What was that?"

"Better, Dr. Lance."

He smiled in response to the dreamy one drifting over her face.

"That's good."

"Lance?" her voice, still full, was touched with uncertainty.

"What, Abby?"

"Are we friends?"

His fingers paused as he pondered the question, then smiled sadly. "Yeah. We're friends. Good friends depending on what time of the month it is."

He was rewarded with a chuckle, and reached down to draw the covers lightly over her. "Sleep, okay?"

"Okay."

She went limp within moments, and he returned to the couch, picking up the book with a sigh. Lance, are you masochistic?

His eyes landed on the pages the book had opened naturally too, touching the words smudged by childish fingers and tears. Wrinkled and crimped with frequent reading.

"Bit by bit," Lance murmured, yawning as he carefully replaced each of the treasures to their former places before closing the book, the words chasing around inside his head.

He buried his head in his pillow, stretching out with a muffled groan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance jerked, catching himself as his chin slid off his hand and nearly sent him face first into his steaming cup of coffee.

Beside him, Justin snickered into his spoonful of cereal.

Lance sent him a withering glance. "Shut up and eat your Crappy Jacks, 'fro boy."

Justin smirked. "I'm not eating Apple Jacks, Poofoo. I am eating Oreo-Os."

"How special you must feel," Lance muttered, lips twitching.

"That's Justin. Special," Joey nodded wisely, flipping through a TV guide.

"Yeah. Special in the head," Chris finished the joke with a cackle.

Justin rolled his eyes and shoveled another bite of cereal in his mouth.

"Okay, no one panic, but Abs is not in her bunk or on the couch," JC announced as he walked into the kitchenette.

"Thank you for your concern," Abby chuckled softly from her position curled up on the bench.

JC blinked, running a hand through his hair. "Hey, what are you doing up?"

"There's no outlet free in the bunk," Abby replied with a slight smile, tapping on her laptop.

"Does this mean you're feeling better?" JC asked, grabbing a muffin.

"This mean I'm feeling better," Abby agreed, looking up with clearer eyes.

"And we're so proud," Chris exclaimed tearfully, reaching over the back of the booth to rub her head affectionately.

"Thanks, Dad," Abby ducked her head as a phone rang.

There was a mad scramble to the bunks.

"Not me."

"Nada."

"Not mine."

"Me either."

"No one loves me," Chris sniffled.

Abby chuckled.

"Abs, it has to be yours," Justin called. "Where is it?"

"My bunk."

Justin grabbed the insistent device. "Good morning, Miss Prentice's phone. How may I assist you?" he asked in a prissy voice.

Abby raised a brow with a smile, adjusting an earbud to listen to her computer. She looked up as Justin came to stand beside her, bracing a hand on the wall as the bus swayed.

"Um, yeah, thanks. Um, not really. Uh, Abs is right here, since you called to talk to her--"

Justin quickly handed the phone to her. "Your cousin."

Abby made a face. "Great," she muttered, shoving her laptop to the seat beside her and standing before taking the phone.

"--And I can arrange something anytime--"

"Cecile?" Abby asked, puzzled.

"Oh. Abigail," Cecile's voice leaked embarrassment.

Abby shook her head, slapping away Joey's hand as it tried to tickle her side and walking carefully towards the back lounge.

"Yes, I would assume so, since it's my phone," Abby rolled her eyes, then started as hands grabbed her shoulders, focusing on her surroundings abruptly.

"Whoa, pay attention," Lance scolded teasingly.

"You pay attention. You can see me coming," she retorted, ordering her heart to slow down.

"Yes, dear," Lance turned her towards the lounge again. "Follow the yellow brick road, Dorothy."

She chuckled, walking into the small room and sinking down on one of the couches. "Why are you calling, Cecile?" she asked, recalling her cousin's presence.

There was an extended silence on the other end of the line.

"Abigail, are you involved with one of them?" Cecile asked suddenly.

Abby was silent now, speechless. "What?! No! Where on earth would you get that idea?"

"Just--Well, I don't see how you could not. And you sounded--But I forget who I'm talking to," Cecile's voice acquired its normal cutting edge.

"And I'll regret this, but why couldn't I not, Cecile?" Abby asked wearily.

"If you could see them, I wouldn't have to explain," Cecile informed her loftily.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Why must everything about them come down to what they look like?" she demanded wearily, having never grown used to the gushing compliments by overexcited fans.

She was kept mostly out of contact with them, partially for her safety, but mostly for everyone's privacy. As long as she was a ghost, no one asked questions, especially when she stayed on the same bus and often in the same hotel room.

Her lips twisted. But that didn't mean she was deaf. She'd had occasion to hear the guys' encounters with fans. While some were fairly calm and polite, the majority of them were rather overzealous in their appreciation. And it mostly centered on how 'cute' or 'hot' they were.

Abby blew out a sigh, shaking her head. It made them all uncomfortable because they didn't know how to respond to such things beyond smiling and asking the girls not to cry.

She snorted. "To think what I missed out on growing up," she muttered, massaging the bridge of her nose.

Cecile was still speaking. "Well, it doesn't hurt, Abigail."

"Yeah, right. Do you even like their music, Cecile?"

"Sure. They have great voices. But they are so cute, Abigail. If you could just see Justin," Cecile's voice acquired a breathless edge.

Abby raised a brow. "Is that why you were propositioning him over my phone?"

"I was simply asking him over to dinner when he was in town," Cecile answered defensively. "And don't you act all innocent, Abigail. I don't think you're telling the truth about not liking one of them either," she charged, trying to put Abby on the defensive.

Abby rolled her eyes. "I never said I didn't like them. Otherwise, why would I be traipsing all over the country with them?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it, Abigail. I heard you flirting with one of them. So either it's him or you're trying to make another one jealous. Is it Justin? Is that why you were all over me about things?" Cecile asked suspiciously.

Abby's eyes had gotten successively wider as the accusations became more outlandish. "Hardly, Cecile. Is this girl talk?" she asked with disgust. "Remind me to avoid this in the future. Was there a purpose to this call?"

"What's the matter, Abigail?" Cecile's voice oozed satisfaction. "Are you jealous?"

"What would I be jealous of, Cecile?" Abby asked tiredly, beginning to pull the elastic from the tail of her braid.

"The fact that you know that you could never win one of them," Cecile snapped back.

Abby's hands paused, her heart spasming in pain before she firmly squelched it. "I wasn't aware that they were a prize or that I was in the game to "win" any of them."

"Whatever," Cecile paused, obviously searching for something else to throw at her. "I think you're just jealous that you can hear people say what they look like, but you can never know for yourself," she stated triumphantly. "Otherwise, you wouldn't pooh-pooh the issue every time it came up."

Abby groaned a sigh. "Not that it matters, but I can certainly know for myself what they look like. Maybe not how you see them, but I can." She was sick to death of the subject, so she changed it. "What was this call about?" she asked abruptly.

Cecile hesitated, but for once heeded the warning in Abby's voice. "Mother and I want to visit the house in France before Fall session starts up again."

Abby's eyes narrowed before she shrugged, not in the mood for an argument. "Fine. I'll contact Accounting. Arrangements will be made."

"Thank you, Abigail," Cecile stated meekly.

"Have fun," Abigail told her ironically before ending the call.

"How would you know what we look like?" Justin's voice suddenly emerged from the doorway, and Abby squeaked with surprise.

He settled on the couch next to her. "Abs?"

She tossed the phone to the table with a sigh. "Don't worry about it."

Justin was silent. "Do you want to know what we look like?"

Abby shrugged, turning to face him. "Superstar, I don't need to know anything physical about any of you. I know you and that's more important than anything."

"Humor me."

Abby groaned. "Justin--"

She yelped as she was pinned to the couch abruptly. "Don't make me tickle it out of you," Justin warned ominously.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Fine."

He let her sit up, and she briefly explained as best she could. "That's the shorthand version. It's hard to explain."

"So you could touch my face and know what I look like?" Justin asked consideringly.

"Vaguely."

"Okay."

"Okay, what?" Abby asked, puzzled.

"Let's do it," Justin replied cheerfully.

Abby stared towards him as if he were nuts. "Superstar--"

"C'mon, don't you want to know what I look like?" Justin whined, laying his head on her shoulder.

Abby snorted. "Justin, most people are too self-conscious to do this."

"I'm not self-conscious," Justin declared simply. "This'll be fun."

Abby sighed, shaking her head. "Alright," she gave in. "As long as you promise to tell me if you want to stop," she told him, uncertain about the whole thing.

"Promise," Justin replied blithely.

Abby touched his shoulder, feeling the muscles tense and bunch, jumping beneath her touch. She started to touch his jaw, and missed as he shifted in his seat.

"Okay, if I'm going to do this, you have to hold still," Abby told him patiently, a smile curving her mouth.

Justin stopped squirming. "Sorry. It just feels a little weird."

Abby nodded slightly. "I know. Touching a person's face invades their comfort zone. If you don't want me to--" She started to withdraw her hands, but he stalled the movement.

"No, go ahead. I'll get used to it."

Abby tilted her head, shifting to sit cross-legged on the couch. "Okay, how do you want to do this?"

"Since I'm so much taller than you, you want me to lay down?"

Abby nodded agreeably, scooting to the end of the couch so Justin could lay down.

Justin stretched out, crossing his legs at the ankles as he settled his head into Abby's lap. Pale silver eyes smiled down at him.

"If you want me to stop, just say the word."

He shook his head. "Nah. Go ahead."

His eyes widened at the first contact of her fingers at his jaw, curiosity making him hold his eyes open despite his first instinct to close them to make the situation less intimate.

A faint frown pleated Abby's brow as she concentrated, a faraway expression settling over her face.

A smile lifted his mouth as Abby held her hands still, letting him get comfortable. Affection for her filled him.

"Hurry up, magic. There's a basketball game on in an hour," he teased.

Abby snorted. "Thanks for the reminder, J."

Her fingers finally moved, trailing gently over his chin and jaw, her palms measuring the span from one side to the other before walking over his cheeks and investigating his ears.

He chuckled and hunched his shoulders as the light touch tickled. "Watch where you're sticking your fingers. Nothing bigger than my elbow is supposed to go in there."

"Hush," Abby murmured, smiling, her fingers drifting back over his cheekbones, her touch light as butterfly wings.

Justin wrinkled his nose as the pads of her fingers examined him there, then stroked upwards to discover his browbones, smoothing over his brows before tracing his forehead. He lifted the muscles experimentally as her fingertips traced his hairline.

Abby chuckled, then paused as someone else entered the lounge.

"Hi, Joe."

Justin slid a glance sideways, finding Joey watching them curiously as he ate an apple.

"What are you and Abs doing?"

"This is how she knows what I look like," he explained.

Joey perked up. "Why would she want to know a thing like that?" he asked humorously.

"So I have more to go on than a huge head of hair," Abby inserted wryly.

"Hey," Justin protested, smiling. Abby shrugged.

"Only telling the truth."

"Yeah, sometimes the truth hurts," Joey comforted dryly.

"Whatever. Be quiet, Joey. You're distracting Abs."

Joey took another bite of his apple. "Does that mean I'm next?"

Abby looked towards him with raised brows. "If you want to be. Sometimes it makes people uncomfortable for someone to touch their face," she warned again

Joey shrugged, sitting down and sprawling out comfortably. "Why would a friend touching me make me uncomfortable? Would you really know what I look like?" he asked curiously.

Abby smiled, resting her palms on Justin forehead.

"Not exactly. I remember what people look like in three dimensions, so I can construct a vague image of what you look like through my fingers. I don't have that much practice, but this just helps me flesh a person out, so to speak. Did you get all that, JC?" Abby finished with a grin.

JC finished walking into the lounge, smiling sheepishly as he sat down. "Yeah, thanks for caring."

Abby laughed under her breath.

"How many times have you done this?" Justin asked.

Abby shrugged. "A few. Once with Max after I'd known him for awhile. And Anna and Ray."

"That's it?" JC asked, picking up the remote.

"Yeah, don't get worried," Abby told Justin, amused. "You're going under the hand of an amateur, but I swear I've read all the books and listened to the tapes."

Justin laughed along with the others, quieting as Abby's hands cupped his cheeks, feeling the muscles contract with his smile. His eyes closed as her fingertips dusted over his lashes and lids before walking down the slope of his nose again.

He was aware of his friends watching with intense curiosity as Abby's fingers completed their journey, lifting to his forehead before sketching their way across his features again, ending at his chin.

His eyes opened to meet her sightless gaze. "If this makes you uncomfortable, tell me to stop, okay?" she asked.

He nodded, mildly puzzled.

His eyes widened slightly as her fingers found his mouth, edging the corners before tracing them with the lightest of touches. Her fingers completed the circuit, a smile of gratitude curving her mouth.

"Smile?" she requested.

His lips lifted in a slow smile as he realized what she was doing, heart warming, and felt her touch skating over his lips in quick motions as he completed the action.

Abby's eyes glowed faintly. "Now smile like you do when you think you're getting away with something."

He laughed, his grin breaking free against her fingers, and Abby's eyes sparkled.

"Any other requests?" he asked.

Abby shook her head, her fingers lifting.

She leaned down, and he felt her lips against his cheek. "Thank you, Justin. You're as beautiful on the outside as I know you are on the inside."

Justin felt heat enter his cheeks in a blush, and smiled, hugging her slender shoulders firmly and kissing her cheek with affection.

"Anytime, magic. And you should talk."

A snort was his only answer, and an eloquent roll of her unusual eyes. "Maybe I should hold that opinion until you get rid of that youthful cockiness."

"My turn, my turn!" Joey's voice insisted, and Justin groaned, sitting up reluctantly.

"Sorry, was I ruining a moment?" Joey batted his eyelashes, and Justin waved a hand at him.

"Shut up."

"Good comeback," Joey mocked.

"Hush, children," Abby ordered, shifting as Joe lay down, settling into her lap as Justin had.

Abby held her fingers poised, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "Ready?"

Justin sat down next to JC, watching the process from an outsider's perspective with a faint smile. The tableau of Abby's tiny form next to Joey's much larger one was startling and endearing as she cradled his wild head in her lap.

Joey nodded, closing his eyes. "Don't hurt me, darling."

"I'll do my best to resist," Abby murmured, fingertips investigating his forehead gently.

"What color's your hair again?" she asked.

"Red," Joey answered.

"Think Bozo the Clown," JC snickered.

Abby chuckled, her hands measuring the wild mop. "Oh, my."

"That's the general reaction to Joey," Justin agreed.

Abby shook her head, her fingers tracing his friend's hairline as she concentrated.

"What does it feel like?" JC asked softly.

Justin paused thoughtfully. "Strange. But nice. I like knowing that she has an idea of what I look like, a face to go with the voice."

JC nodded, playing absently with the remote.

They both looked over at Abby's sudden laugh. Justin grinned. She had found Joey's facial hair.

Joey wiggled his eyebrows as her fingers smoothed over them. "You like guys with goatees, Abs?" he asked hopefully.

"I like this guy with a goatee," Abby avoided directly answering the question, smiling as she forced his eyes closed with her fingertips.

"Alright!" Joey mumbled, hunching his shoulders as Justin had when she went for his ears.

Abby giggled. "You're hopeless," she told him.

"Thanks," he replied modestly.

Abby rolled her eyes, repeating the motion of sketching his face before pausing.

"You saw what I did with Justin?" she questioned.

"Yup," Joe nodded.

"Will it make you uncomfortable if I do that?"

Joey shook his head emphatically. "Go right ahead, darlin'."

Abby smiled, her fingers touching his mouth.

Justin and JC both watched intently as she discovered their friend's smile, an expression of wonder lighting her eyes.

"That's the only way she can see people smile," JC whispered, and Justin nodded slowly. He'd never thought of how much he would miss if he couldn't see. High on the list now was never seeing a loved one's smile.

Justin smiled as he watched Abby lean down to hug his friend, kissing his cheek and whispering something to him. His eyebrows shot up, watching Joey blush slightly before returning the gesture with affection.

"My turn," JC announced, and Abby laughed, flexing her fingers. "Man, my fingers are going to be tired. Not to mention rug-burned."

Joey kissed her cheek once more before vacating the couch for JC's position next to Justin as the older man settled next to Abby.

Joey grabbed the remote before Justin could, still smiling.

"What'd she say to you?" Justin asked softly, curious about the blush he'd seen.

Joey shrugged, glancing towards the two on the couch as JC stretched out. "That maybe the girls went for the looks, but they stayed for the guy behind the smile," he mumbled, blushing again.

Justin grinned, reaching over to rub his friend's wild hair. "I admire Abs."

"Why?" Joe asked warily.

"Cause she's one of the few people who've ever made you blush."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! Take it to the rim, baby!"

Lance looked up with a slight grin as Chris bounced out of his seat.

"Don't assault the screen again," he advised with a smirk. Chris made a rude gesture, gluing his hands to the sides of the TV mounted in the corner.

"C'mon, c'mon," he muttered, eyes darting over the action. Lance shook his head, then paused, listening as he heard Abby's laughter. He sighed under his breath, resolutely dragging his eyes and attention back to his laptop.

But instead of his screen, he saw her. He blinked, then closed his eyes hard. But she still danced behind the screen of his lids.

Lance opened his eyes with a sigh, giving up and staring off into the distance as the interstate rolled by underneath them.

He couldn't seem to escape her. Ever since that night on the balcony, and the days that followed, the dreams had gotten worse, becoming more vivid.

As if her touching him in a concrete way had solidified the almost intellectual curiosity into full-blown attraction and flipped the switch in his mind that inhibited him from letting his subconscious wander in the wrong direction.

And now it was becoming more difficult to keep his waking mind from doing the same thing. Lance rubbed the bridge of his nose roughly.

He could actually feel his nerves stretching thinner and thinner as he walked some strange tightrope, pretending to be nothing more than friends as his emotions seesawed dangerously close to something unfriendly. Sheer willpower and strict focus had kept him on the path he'd chosen. Throwing himself into performing and--

"AAAAAhhhh!! NO!"

Lance glanced up, startled as Chris's high-pitched scream sliced through his muddled thoughts.

Chris was shaking the TV as cartoons cavorted across the screen.

"JOEY!!!" Chris screamed. "I'm GONNA KILL YOU!!"

Lance blinked as Chris sprinted towards the back lounge, a reluctant smile stretching his mouth. So had his friends. He knew they sensed something was up, but for once weren't prying. They'd all stopped pushing him about the issue of Abby, and even offered him more than the usual opportunities for escape, whether it be going to the movies, or shopping, or a club.

Lance shook his head, sliding out of the booth. In return, he would save them from a bloody homicide and the following court trial. Lance ignored the small voice that asked if Abby's presence in the back lounge had anything to do with his willingness to save Joey from imminent death. 

When he stood in the doorway, he shook his head, watching Chris beat Joey on the head with a pillow as Joey yelped and held the remote out of range. Justin was flipping idly through a magazine on one of the couches.

Lance ignored them, staring instead at Abby and JC on the couch. His friend was stretched out, feet crossed at the ankles, hands across his stomach as he lay with his head in Abby's lap.

Abby's hands, no, her fingers, were tracing JC's face with delicate care, an expression of intense concentration on her face.

Lance opened his mouth, but no words came out. Chris did it for him, pausing to rest.

"Abs, what are you doing?" Gasp. "JC, aren't massages generally on your back or head?" Gasp. "But thanks for trying to rearrange his face." Gasp. Chris collapsed to the floor as Abby paused, grinning.

"Getting a little old for attempted murder, Chris?"

"Yes. Justin?"

"I'm busy. I'll pencil him in later."

"Cool. Abs, what are you doing?"

"What does I look like I'm doing?" Abby's fingers smoothed over JC's brows as he closed his eyes.

Chris crawled over to the couch, leaving Joey sprawled on the floor, breathing hard. Chris climbed to his knees to peer at JC.

"I dunno. What are you doing?"

JC cracked an eye and yelped. "Chris, man, get out of my face! You just frightened a decade off of me!"

"You mean you're gonna act even more ancient than you already are?" Chris mocked. "Great. Justin, better go get the Ben Gay and his walker."

"Shut up," JC replied imperturbably.

"Abs is learning what we look like," Justin finally answered Chris's question, looking up from his magazine.

"Really?"

Abby nodded absently, her fingers tracing the ridge of JC's cheekbones.

"Does this mean I'm next?" Chris asked, interested.

Abby glanced up with a smile, her hair sliding out of her loosened braid. "You all aren't the shy types, are you?"

"What's that?" Chris dead-panned.

Abby shook her head, still smiling. "Ready?" she asked JC.

JC shot a look at Chris. "I can't with Chris still hovering over me."

Abby laughed under her breath. "I don't think anyone could do much of anything with Chris hovering over them."

Chris preened, sitting back on his heels.

"Having shared a bathroom with him, I can second that," Joey commented, resuming his channel surfing.

"Don't make me beat the bleach off you," Chris told him, shutting up as he watched Abby run her fingers over JC's lips.

He opened his mouth, then shut it as Justin shook his head.

"Smile?"

Her fingers learned his smile, her head tilted to the side as she memorized the movement, her palms coming to rest against his cheeks.

Lance stood stock-still in the doorway, feeling tight in his own skin. An odd mixture of envy and longing and nerves tightened his muscles. Common sense told him to turn around and leave. But his feet kept him nailed to the floor.

He gritted his teeth as Abby kissed JC's cheek and murmured something that made the older man laugh before returning the gesture and sitting up.

"My turn!" Chris leaped up beside Abby, nearing sending JC to the floor. Grumbling, JC slid down and sprawled out, propping himself up with his hands.

Flexing her hands, Abby shook her head. "Just one question. Are you furry?"

"Furry?" Chris echoed with a laugh.

"Yes," Justin told her, lips twitching.

"Damn," Abby muttered, rubbing her hands together.

JC and Justin snickered as Chris rolled his eyes and plopped his head down in Abby's lap. "Hey, baby, what's up?" he flirted.

Abby chuckled. "Does your girlfriend know you're such a flirt?"

"Yeah. She trusts me."

"Yeah, she trusts him to scare all the girls away," Justin cracked.

"Whatever," Chris drawled. "You're just jealous."

Abby paused before shaking her head. "I'm not touching that," she mumbled, acquiring a faint frown as she touched Chris's cheeks.

Her hands gravitated towards his hair first, an expression between fascination and mild horror crossing her face as she tugged experimentally on a braid.

Lance smiled faintly as the others snickered.

"Chris, what have you done to your hair?" Abby asked, aghast.

"Yeah, explain that one," Joey ribbed him.

"It's a statement of my personality," Chris declared righteously.

Abby made a noncommittal noise, her hands coasting over his pony-tailed dreads. "Okay," she muttered softly.

"Don't you believe me?"

Abby grinned suddenly, her face lighting with breath-taking happiness. "Oh, I do believe that. It just frightens me," she teased.

Chris grabbed her hands, bringing them to his forehead as he frowned severely. "Feel this, young lady? This means Chris is very disappointed in you."

"Now you're going to make me cry," she sniffled, her hands moving gently over his forehead.

Lance found his eyes glued to her hands as she touched his friend. And fought the urge to begin nervous pacing.

He pivoted hurriedly, catching Justin's quick, puzzled glance before he paced back into the bunk area, making himself busy by rummaging in his bunk.

Someone suddenly clearing their throat an indeterminable amount of time later made him jump. Stars exploded inside his head, and he cursed softly, rubbing the tender spot and glaring at Joey as he unsuccessfully covered a smile.

"What?"

"Your turn," Joey informed him cheerfully.

"My turn? I don't have a turn," Lance shook his head, studiously folding the wrinkled clothes scattered over his bunk.

"What? Why not?"

"I have other things to do. Like I left my laptop to save your sorry behind from Chris."

"Yeah, and you did such a good job," Joey drawled. "Scoop, this is important to her."

Lance paused. "Where'd you learn guilt trips from?" he mumbled.

"You watch, you learn," Joey shrugged.

"Why would this be important to her?" Lance tried to divert the conversation.

"Because this is how she knows us, and how she sees us smile." Joey's face was serious when Lance glanced back at him, his chest aching briefly.

"I thought it was voluntary."

"It is. But I guess I just thought you'd want her to know what you look like. Maybe not in actuality, but something real she can imagine when she thinks of you."

Lance shrugged, trying to appear casual. "What ever happened to physical things not being important?" he muttered ironically.

Joey shot him a pitying look. "It's not to her. She didn't ask for this; we all volunteered. Just think about it this way: we are probably the select few who Abs wants to be able to see. Can you imagine her doing this with Cecile or her aunt, even if they wanted her to? Do you know what it means for her to want to do this with us?"

Lance sighed, looking into his bunk helplessly. "Joe, it's just not easy to--"

A hand clasped his shoulder. "If all you want to be is friends, then treat it that way. If that's what it's supposed to be, then it shouldn't matter, right?"

Lance groaned, rolling his eyes heavenward, and Joey chuckled. "If not, then I guess it's good practice, huh?"

Lance shrugged Joey's hand off with a grunt. "You suck."

"Are you going in?"

Lance was silent.

"She might begin to wonder about--"

"Fine!" Lance snapped. "Guilt and paranoia, that's great, superfreak."

Joey laughed under his breath. "Is it working?"

"Yes," Lance rubbed a hand over his face, telling himself that he wouldn't be alone with her. All he had to do was lay there, close his eyes, and pretend he was being touched by a doctor or someone else in a clinical way.

Before he could chicken out, he pivoted and marched back to the back lounge as if he were being led to the gallows. He ignored Joey's snickers.

Chris was bouncing beside Abby on the couch. Lance smiled weakly.

"My turn next?" he asked casually.

Abby's gaze turned towards him, smiling faintly. "If you want." Her head tilted, shaking at Chris. "Get off the couch, dreadman." A carefully placed shove sent him tumbling to the floor, yelping with surprise.

Chris glared up at her as she peered towards him serenely.

"Do you wish to say something?" Abby inquired, biting back a grin.

"I know when I'm not wanted," Chris declared mock-huffily, stomping past Lance. He paused, turning around briefly to declare righteously, "If anyone wants me, I'll be in my room!"

"Bunk," Justin supplied, grinning.

Chris waved a hand airily before disappearing. With a half-grin, Abby motioned towards him.

"Please tell me you don't have facial fur," she requested dryly. "While interesting to touch, it does tend to chafe."

Lance shook his head, sitting gingerly on the couch. "Nope."

"We both prefer the clean-shaven look," Justin added loftily.

"Only because neither of you can grow anything besides peach fuzz," Joey mocked as JC snickered agreement.

Abby smiled. "Don't tease. They will eventually grow up to be manly men like yourselves." She completed the statement with a roll of her eyes.

"Why, thank you, Abs." Joe patted his hair and flexed his muscles.

"Remember that I can't see it," Abby chuckled. "Though I can hear you grunting."

"Damn," Joey shook his head, then rubbed his stomach. "We have anything in the kitchen? I'm hungry."

JC shook his head as the other man left. "I hope we don't get stranded anywhere. This might turn into the bus version of Alive."

"Where they eat everyone?" Justin asked. "Ew."

Abby shook her head. "You people are weird."

"Thank you. Hurry up, Lance. I want to play Mortal Kombat."

"Play with Chris," Lance muttered, feeling nerves flutter in his stomach.

"Nah. I'm in the mood for certain victory," Justin smiled with satisfaction.

Lance narrowed his eyes. "Whatever. Dream on, bleach boy." He settled onto his elbows reluctantly, feeling as if he were about to undergo surgery without anesthesia as he looked up into Abby's face.

Her silver eyes glinted briefly, her brows lifting as faint mischief danced in her gaze. "It won't hurt," she promised. "If you don't like it, just tell me to stop. And we can do this whatever way you want to."

"Ohh, kinky," Justin wiggled his eyebrows.

"Go bleach something," Abby ordered.

Justin saluted smartly. "Yes, ma'am." He got up, walking towards the front. "Oh, Joooeeyyy!" he could be heard singsonging.

"Dear Lord, help us all. He's going to come back with leopard spots, one eyebrow, and half his head dyed purple," JC muttered.

Abby cleared her throat. "As I was saying--"

"This is fine," he interrupted, anxious to get it over with before everyone disappeared.

Abby blinked. "Okay."

Lance lowered himself stiffly so he was resting gingerly with his head on Abby's thigh. He could feel his face immediately flushing, his muscles stiffening even further as he crossed his arms tightly.

Something soft and silky drifted across his cheek as Abby leaned over him. Her hair. She brushed the strands behind her shoulder impatiently, a faint frown pleating her brow.

"Are you--"

"Jaayy-Ceee!!" Joey screamed from the front. "HELP ME!! Justin has a bottle of bleach in his hand!! HE'S COMING AFTER ME!!"

Abby's lips twitched.

"Distract him with the blow-up basketball and disarm him," JC yelled back absently, his gaze on the TV.

"I CAN'T!!" Joey screamed back. "We popped it two weeks ago to make him cry!! JAAYY-CEEEE!! He's got that look like right before he made his hair glow in the dark!!"

"Your hair already glows in the dark!!" Chris could be heard yelling.

"JAAYY-CEEEE!!! You owe me for the blonde!!"

JC sighed and got up to leave, pausing to accuse Abby, "This is all your fault."

Abby smiled innocently. "Sorry."

Lance's stomach dropped as JC left the lounge. Any of the others could come back at any moment, but for all intents and purposes they were alone.

He closed his eyes.

Alone.

"Damn," he muttered.

Abby blinked down at him. "What?"

"Nothing, let's get this over with," he mumbled shortly, nerves tightening his stomach.

Abby drew back slightly. "Okay," she murmured.

Abby could feel the muscles of his neck and back against her leg, tight with strain. She knew that Lance wasn't comfortable with this, which wasn't unusual for most people.

And truthfully, she wasn't either, though it was for a different reason. She was fighting the impulse to slide away so she could breathe a little easier.

If she was supposed to kill the budding attraction, she had decided that limiting actual physical contact might be better for her peace of mind until she'd put the whole thing into perspective.

Too bad she hadn't thought of that sooner. Her lips twisted wryly.

And deep inside, she was touched that he was going ahead with something he was uneasy about so she could build a picture of him in her mind. She was still a little stunned at the ease with which the others had submitted. Make that insisted. A smile curved her lips.

His heart was having a hard time keeping proper rhythm. It nearly failed altogether as Abby smiled down at him, a dreamy expression on her face.

"Do you know how strange you all are?" she whispered.

He blinked. "You're just now figuring that out?" He cleared his throat as his voice rasped.

Abby chuckled, the sound raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

"In many different ways," she murmured cryptically.

He barely resisted the urge to hunch away as her fingertips brushed his hairline.

"I'm told you're another blonde. Though not natural."

Lance swallowed, closing his eyes to slits as her palms passed over his hair. "Guilty as charged."

Abby tilted her head, her hair slipping further out of its braid as her hands swept back around to tug gently on his ears before investigating them lightly.

His teeth gritted. "Find any spare change?" he joked tightly.

"Not yet," Abby murmured absently with a laugh.

His mind raced ahead, knowing what he'd seen her do with the others. If he couldn't--

Lance inhaled sharply as Abby leaned over him further. Strands of hair feathered over his cheek, bringing the smell of rainwater to his nose. His eyes widened, his gaze glueing itself to Abby's face, which appeared to be carved in alabaster as she concentrated.

Soft fingers touched his jaw, and his eyes dropped to gently curved lips.

His field of vision narrowed.

He jerked away, heart thundering as blood rushed to his cheeks. Abby drew back instinctively, startled.

"What--"

"I don't want to do this," Lance snapped, moving her back almost roughly so he could escape, standing and fleeing to the other side of the room.

Wide, confused silver eyes gazed back at him. "Lance?" she asked uncertainly.

"I thought it was my call to stop," he charged.

Abby drew back further, her guard slipping partially down in defense. "It is," she agreed softly.

"Fine. Then I'm saying I want to stop," Lance stated stiffly.

Abby nodded wordlessly, quickly hiding the flash of hurt in her eyes. But not before he'd seen it.

Lance cursed softly, then pivoted and left the enclosed space, desperately wanting an escape from the beautiful, confused eyes that accused him without a single word.

Of being a fool.