Justin slid the phone back in his pocket, then carefully picked Abby up. She weighed barely anything, but he discovered that the unconscious body was distinctly harder to keep a firm grip on. He could still feel a dozen pairs of eyes watching the small scene, but ignored them, nodding curtly to the bartender and hurrying out of the restaurant.

The lobby was nearly deserted, and he strode towards the elevator banks as if carrying an unconscious woman was perfectly natural, jabbing the 'up' button with his elbow and cursing softly as he bobbled the limp form in his arms.

"Justin?" Lance's quiet voice made him start. A faint, wry smile crossed his face before he sobered and turned to face his friend.

"Here, would you take her?" Before Lance could agree or refuse, Justin shifted the lax bundle into his surprised arms.

With a grunt, Lance struggled awkwardly to gain a grip on Abby. He finally snugged her up against his chest so she wouldn't just hang in his arms, her head resting under his chin, and looked at Justin with a frown.

"Why? What's wrong?" Then his nose wrinkled. "Jeez."

Justin nodded, grimacing. "You'll get used to it, just breathe through your mouth for awhile," he advised.

"You weren't kidding about drinking herself stupid." He sighed. "Why would she risk getting plastered?" he mumbled the question rhetorically, but Justin chose to answer it as the elevator dinged and slid open.

"Because she's suicidal. Did you call the others?"

Lance glanced at him sharply, slanting a worried look down at the young woman in his arms. He could feel the rapid, shallow flutter of her heart against him, the bones in her ribcage clearly defined as they pressed against his side.

"Yes, and don't say things like that."

"I'm not the one who said them, she did," Justin defended. The elevator doors parted onto their floor.

Chris popped his head out of the room JC and Lance were sharing as they approached, motioning them to hurry. He eyed Abby's unconscious form with dark, solemn eyes, eyebrows hiking as he got a whiff.

"Good God, did she bathe in the stuff?"

"Try about eleven shots, not counting any empty glasses the bartender might have carried off at the beginning."

"Eleven?! What the hell was the bartender thinking? She'd not big enough to drink that much without killing herself!" His eyes flashed angrily.

Justin and Lance exchanged a glance. Chris caught it and his eyes narrowed. "I don't think I want to know the answer to that one."

He backed away to let them through, turning to address Joe and JC. "Go get a cold washcloth and a jersey and shorts of some sort." He darted a glance back at Abby. "Make them old ones, ones that you wouldn't mind losing," he amended dryly.

Lance sat down on the foot of one of the beds, still holding Abby in his arms. He released her legs, shifting her to sit upright against him in the crook of his shoulder and arm. Her hands curled loosely in her lap, and he picked one up absently, spreading the long, thin, ringless fingers against his own and shaking his head. Next to his, they looked child-size. He sighed softly, for a moment forgetting he wasn't alone in the room.

"Lance?" Chris's mildly amused voice prodded.

Lance glanced up, finding four pairs of eyes watching him with raised brows. He flushed, releasing her hand.

"What?" he dared them to say anything.

"Nothing, oh nothing," Justin assured him, his voice saying it was anything but 'nothing'. Lance rolled his eyes, reluctantly moving to lay her on the bed.

"No," Chris pressed a hand to his shoulder, staying the movement. "Just sit there. We're going to try and wake our inebriated friend up."

"Oooh, big word, college man," Joe teased, sitting next to Lance holding the clothing Chris had requested. Chris shushed him.

Justin grimaced. "Okay, so long as I'm not the one who has to deal with her," he mumbled, sitting heavily in a chair facing the beds. He scrubbed his face, feeling suddenly, mentally exhausted.

"That bad?" JC asked quietly, resting his rear against the dresser abutting the wall.

"Worse," Justin replied briefly.

Kneeling on the floor in front of Lance and Abby, Chris snapped his fingers.

"Washcloth."

JC tossed it to him, and Chris gently removed the dark glasses, handing them to Joe. Even unconscious, there were lines of stress and pain on Abby's drawn face, as if she couldn't relax even when her mind wasn't there.

They all watched silently as Chris ran the cool cloth over her face and neck, finally pressing it to her forehead.

Chris finally took a deep breath, muttering, "I hope she doesn't hurl on me."

He carefully shook her shoulder. "Abby? Wake up, sweetie. We need to make sure you haven't killed a copious amount of brain cells with your little bender."

No response.

Chris shook her again, tugging her until she was nearly upright, head lolling forward. "C'mon, Abs, wake up. I might not even care if you puke on me, just open your eyes so we know you aren't plastered to the point of no return."

No response.

Abby hung limply in Chris's grip, her chest barely rising with each breath. Chris pressed his lips together, then suddenly shouted, "ABS!" directly into her face.

She didn't even flinch.

"Should we call a doctor?" JC asked worriedly as Chris lowered her back against Lance, picking up her wrist to take her pulse. 

Chris made a face. "Like I should know this?" he sighed. He threw up his hands. "You try, Lance."

Lance blinked. "Me? Why me?"

"Because I told you to?"

He snorted, then hesitantly shook the unconscious female in his arms. He shifted her gently, looking down into her tense, drawn face. "Abby? Wake up, Abby. Wake up for us."

"No…" Abby suddenly moaned, shivering. Her body jerked. "Don't leave…don't leave…"

The depth of pain and betrayal in the whimpered phrase made his stomach hurt, a brick lodging itself in his chest.

They all stared at her with concerned eyes. "Try again," Chris urged.

Lance tightened his grip, "Wake up, Abby," he repeated softly.

She took a shaky breath, then her eyes struggled open a heartbeat later, confused and hurting. Chris leaned forward, chafing her hands gently.

"Who, Abs? Who don't you want to leave?" he prodded, trying to make her talk.

Abby blinked, slumping back against Lance. "Where are Mama and Daddy…" she whispered, slightly slurred. "Why all dark…"

They exchanged glances. "It's night," JC supplied. "We don't know where your parents are. Do you?" He nudged Justin, raising an eyebrow in question. Justin shook his head. They all knew her father was dead, but not her mother.

Her eyes closed, forehead pleating in pain. "Gone," she mumbled. Then flinched. "Gone," she croaked thickly, moving restlessly, then more violently. "Left. They left me."

Lance's eyes widened, barely stopping her from slipping off his lap as she struggled. He finally grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her firmly to keep her from moving too vigorously.

Chris motioned JC and Justin back as they started towards her, and grabbed her chin. The fight left her as suddenly as it came, and she went limp against him, a numb expression slipping over her face.

 "It was just a dream, Abs. Just a dream," he told her firmly.

She froze, staring straight ahead. "No...Not a dream," she stated blurrily. "Everyone leaves…" Her head turned restlessly, shivering, as her sightless eyes searched for something only she could see.

"Not everyone leaves," Chris soothed automatically, pressing the cloth against her forehead as sweat popped out, her eyes closing. "Abs, are you sick?" he asked warily.

She didn't answer, and Lance shifted her slightly without gaining a response.

"She's passed out again," he confirmed quietly.

Chris made a sound of frustration, tugging on his braids. "Okay, I suppose now's as good a time as any to get her changed," he finally muttered.

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Changed?" he asked delicately, coughing.

"Chris, man…" JC started uncertainly.

Chris held up a hand. "No arguments. She shouldn't stay in those clothes smelling like a brewery. I have sisters who've demonstrated the art of changing clothes beneath clothes on numerous occasions, which I will now duplicate. I hope. Which I will attempt once y'all leave the room. Just in case I accidentally flash something," he finished in a mumble, grabbing the jersey from Joe and shaking it out.

After a beat of silence, Chris asked in exasperation, "You have a better solution? Lance, would you like to do it?"

Lance went red and gave him a look.

"Like to get one of our female people and explain why we have a drunk chick in our room that we need them to change?"

Four sighs and mumbled 'no's'. "Okay, then, take my word that I'll try to restrain myself from violating an unconscious blind girl in the next five minutes and get out," Chris commanded, becoming slightly grumpy.

Justin chuckled. "Okay, but just five minutes." He tugged Joe and JC with him through the connecting door as Chris snorted and made a rude gesture.

Lance slowly shifted Abby's limp form onto the bed, feeling a small pang of loss that he quickly dismissed. You are in serious need of a girlfriend, or at least a date, when you get attached to holding a hostile, drunk female.

Chris moved over to the bed, gently removing the ponytail holder from Abby's hair. The silky black on black strands drifted over her shoulder and across her pale cheek. Long black lashes fanned out, creating half-moon shadows over her cheekbones and the violet smudges beneath her lids.

She looks so vulnerable. Why can't I be attracted to a nice, normal girl-- His thoughts ground to a halt, his gaze unconsciously gravitating towards her slightly parted lips before he jerked it away, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck with a deep breath. Wait, attracted? Where'd that come from? I'm not attracted, I'm concerned. Yes, concerned. I do have a weakness for people who need me. But she doesn't need me. Or she doesn't know she does. But she needs all of us as friends. We want to try and be…friends. Nothing else. The time it would takes for "relationships" simply isn't available anyway. He pinched the bridge of his nose, thoroughly frustrated with himself. Why am I defending myself to myself? And somehow losing? He glared at the carpet as the one safe place for his eyes, absently aware that Chris was taking off her shoes and socks. This is all Joe, Justin..heck, all of them are to blame for this one. They planted the seed in my head, and now it's making me think things that I wouldn't think… It's just the power of suggestion. If I stop thinking along those lines, I'll stop thinking along those lines. Cripes, that sounded stupid. Good thing you didn't say that gem out loud, Lan-sten. If you go around in any more circles, you're going to make us dizzy. Us? he demanded. Hey, there's only me on this boat, buddy. And I'm in control. I am in control.

"Lance!" Chris nearly shouted.

Lance jerked to attention, blushing slightly. "What?"

"You going to stand there all night?" Chris inquired, looking at him oddly.

Lance looked down, finding Abby curled on her side slightly, shivering, as Chris crouched next to her, the jersey in his hands.

"Yeah," he agreed abruptly, watching Abby worriedly. Then frowned as Chris raised an eyebrow. "I mean no, I'm going."

"Glad to hear it," Chris called after him dryly as he pivoted and nearly ran for the door.

"Oh, yeah, and Lance?" Chris stopped him before he could pull the door around.

Lance raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It's alright to like her," Chris informed him casually, not looking at him as he pulled Abby into a sitting position to tug the jersey over her head.

 Lance fought the heat that immediately wanted to flood his face. "I don't like--" he started forcefully.

"Because we all do," Chris continued, and Lance could see the slight smirk he couldn't hide at having tricked him.

He refrained from groaning, just barely.

"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled, wondering what there was to talk about. He shook his head with a sigh. "Chris, man, this girl has severe, traumatic issues. And we're not going to be here after noon tomorrow. You're even the one who said it."

Chris shrugged. "There's no rule that says we can't try and be friends with her." He pulled the oversize jersey over Abby's tousled head, not bothering to pull her arms through yet.

Lance paused, rubbing his chin. "Did you ever stop to wonder why we're doing this?" He shook his head slightly. "And this isn't some kicked puppy by the side of the road, man."

Chris nodded, moving to sit beside Abby to prop her up, wrapping an arm around her. "I know that. I dunno why exactly. You have a sister, so does JC and Joe. Justin doesn't, but he's taken to her like one too. And I have many. We look at her and see someone who needs love, probably desperately, and seemingly no family worth speaking of. No one should live like that. And I, for one, would feel guilty if I didn't try to offer her something. And, I think if you look underneath all those 'Keep Away' signs she throws out, you can see what kind of person she really is, if she trusts you enough to let you see it. All you have to do is see how she loves Sunny."

Lance mulled that over silently, looking up as Chris cleared his throat. He made a 'scat' motion. "I have things to do before my five minutes are up. Go brood elsewhere."

Lance rolled his eyes, slipping out the door with one thought whirling inside his head. She doesn't feel like my sister.

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

Chris gave one last tug and a grunt of satisfaction, finally fastening the ponytail back around Abby's hair, which he'd managed to brush into submission.

He flexed his fingers, peering down into her frowning face. "Well, Miss Abby, that's the best I can do ya. You look better. Sort of." He smiled faintly, the borrowed jersey and shorts swimming on her small frame, but he was mildly proud of the fact that he'd managed the little clothes-changing trick without exposure.

Then a frown drifted over his own face, and he rubbed a knuckle over the lines pleating her forehead.

"What haunts you so, Abs? Why won't you let us help you?"

"I'd say just about her whole life," Joe commented dryly, sticking his head through the door.

"All finished?"

Chris nodded and motioned him in. "What are the others doing?"

"JC and Justin have both sacked out, too tired to care that they're in chairs. Bet five bucks on severe neck cramps in the morning."

Chris shook his head with a slight grin as Joe came and sat next to Abby where she lay curled up on the foot of the bed.

"What about Lancey-boy?"

Joe stroked Abby's hair as she shifted restlessly, an abnormally solemn expression on his good-natured face.

"Pretending to sleep too. This should prove for a very interesting situation."

Chris made a non-committal noise.

Joe raised an eyebrow. "You don't think so?"

Chris shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. As the albino one pointed out to me, we're leaving at noon tomorrow." He gazed at Abby thoughtfully.

Joe grinned faintly, patting Abby's cheek. "Can we keep her?"

Chris shook his head slowly. "Unfortunately, no." He eyed the sleeping female curiously.

"What?" Joe finally asked.

"Something Lance said earlier. Why are we doing this? We barely know her, and…" Chris waved a hand around to make his point.

Joe shrugged. "Why us? Why not? Because we can. Because she probably doesn't have anyone else to make sure she'll be alright. If not us, who will? And what if she'd be a great friend beneath all the shields?"

Chris nodded thoughtfully. "Sometimes you surprise me, Joe."

"Thanks," Joe grinned modestly.

Chris rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to Abby. "Think she'll chew all our butts in the morning?"

"Most definitely."

"Think she'd agree to come with us?"

Joe opened his mouth, then hesitated.

Joe's eyes widened. "Did you hear that? She just made a strange…" Joe suddenly scooped up Abby's limp form as a shudder ran through her, sprinting for the bathroom.

Chris grimaced as he heard the sounds of heavy retching from the bathroom, struggling to his feet and appearing in the doorway as Joe settled Abby back against the tub, wetting a washcloth as she slumped forward, arms wrapped around herself.

"Chris?" Justin appeared in the connecting door, looking mildly green. Chris took one look at him and pointed a finger back into the other room.

"She might be finished, she might not. If you're going to toss your cookies at the sight, you march your butt right back out there. Get some sleep," Chris advised.

Justin swallowed. "No, I'm fine," he nodded to emphasize his declaration, and Chris snorted.

"Did I just change her clothes for squat?" he asked Joe instead.

Joe shook his head. "Nope, we made it, barely. Nothing solid came up, doesn't look like she's had anything to eat. But she might have gotten rid of some of that crap in her system."

"Nothing to eat, and she was still standing," Justin marvelled, yawning as he stuck his head in the door cautiously. "Or, at least, sitting upright," he amended.

Joe made a sound of disbelief, crouching down to wipe Abby's sweaty face. She made a soft sound, eyes struggling open as she batted at his hand weakly.

"Hey, now, none of that," Joe scolded. "I'm trying to help your sorry butt."

Justin went to the sink, filling a glass with water and crouching next to Joe. Abby started almost violently when he touched her arm.

"Watch it," Chris warned, realization hitting him, "She's not as alert, so she doesn't know you're coming."

Justin nodded understanding. "Abs, here, drink a little," he urged, setting the glass against her bottom lip and tipping it to let the water hit her mouth. She took an instinctive drink before pulling back, shoving the glass away jerkily.

"Leave me alone," she mumbled, forehead pleated as if her head hurt, grey eyes dull.

"We can't do that," Justin told her gently, brushing wisps of hair off her cheek. She swatted at his hand, her reflexes so off she missed completely, then glared as they all laughed softly.

"Yes, you can," she rasped, pressing her back against the tub in order to push herself to her feet. "Just walk away," she uttered the simple words unemotionally, fists clenched as she gained her feet unsteadily.

They all stared at her, shocked. "Is that what everyone has done? Walked away?" Justin asked softly, reaching for her shoulders.

Abby lurched away, head hanging. She groaned softly, obviously drunk. "Everyone who's alive," she muttered, slightly slurred before she managed to right herself, at least partially. "Or they die," she continued numbly, weaving slightly and somehow finding her way to the toilet, clutching it for balance.

Chris shook his head. "Don't plan on that for at least another sixty years. And I don't plan on walking away either."

Abby turned to stare at him, utter confusion on her pale face. "Why not?"

Then quietly passed out.

With a muttered oath, Justin lunged and managed to catch her before she brained herself on the porcelain commode. "We've really got to stop making this a habit, Abs," he muttered wryly. "Bed?" he asked Chris, who nodded and gestured back to the other room.

"Go get sleeping beauty and the prince and usher them to their matrimonial bower," Chris told Joe dryly, pointing to one of the double beds. Joe saluted and went to fetch Lance and JC.

"Put Abs in the other one. Hopefully, puking put her out for the rest of the night."

He rubbed his neck tiredly, yawning, and Justin settled Abby on the bed, pulling the sheet over her as she sprawled loosely for a moment, then curled up into a protective ball.

Finished, Justin frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he stared down at the small woman-child. "Chris, have you wondered why--"

Chris groaned and held up his hand. "I'll tell you in the morning, alright?"

Justin raised an eyebrow, "It's a quarter past midnight," he pointed out, then shrugged with a nod, yawning, as Chris gave him a look.

JC stumbled into the room with his eyes still closed, going to the remaining bed when Joe nudged him, and finding it unerringly, crawling beneath the covers. "Abs alright?" his sleepy voice asked.

"She will be. Get some sleep, Jace," Chris replied. JC grunted, and promptly went back to sleep.

Lance appeared a second later, sliding one inscrutable glance at the slight lump under the covers as Justin threw the light switch, sending the room into dimness.

"Night, Lansten," Chris called as the younger man pulled off his T-shirt and crawled under the covers.

"Night," rumbled out.

Despite his own exhaustion, Chris grinned slightly, ushering the others out the door and pulling it shut.

He pulled off his own shirt, stripping to his boxers and crawling into his own bed with little more than a quiet goodnight to his friends.

Sleep dragged at him, and he rolled over, yawning, and called groggily, "You're gonna lose the bet, superfreak."

He smiled as a pillow hit his face, grabbing it and cuddling it close as he rolled back over, promptly falling asleep.

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

Lance's eyes sprang open in confusion, and he sat up, stifling a yawn. He checked the travel clock, and blinked gritty eyes as he registered 3 a.m. Less than an hour since he'd looked at it last. Beside him, JC shifted, curling up onto his side and resuming his soft snoring. Lance listened for a minute longer, wondering. He ran his hand through his flattened spikes of hair in nervous dread. Was it…?

Abby moaned softly, signaling the onset of another dream. Another nightmare.

The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened. He clenched his teeth, debating. Knots tightened his stomach as she thrashed under the covers in the throes of the nightmare. He finally relaxed as her movements calmed, sinking back against his pillows half-reluctantly. Then turned onto his stomach, punching his pillow and burying his face in it as Abby stirred again. He counted to ten, then raised his head as silence descended, rolling onto his back.

He stared at the ceiling in the darkness, listening intently before he let himself seek sleep again. She was quiet except for her slightly harsh breathing, and he closed his eyes, beginning to lightly drift, as his exhausted body demanded it of his restless thoughts.

Soft sobbing cries, like the mewling of a kitten, made his muscles tighten. He couldn't take it anymore. He slid out from beneath the covers carefully so as not to disturb JC, and padded over the few short feet to the other double bed, sinking to his haunches.

His eyes adjusted to the dark, moonlight shining through the curtains faintly. Sweat gleamed on Abby's forehead, her face scrunched into an expression of sorrow and loss as soft sounds of pain escaped her.

Carefully, he reached out, brushing escaping strands of hair from her damp cheek. Then his hand froze as he caught the gleam of wetness on her lashes, spiking them wetly. Sympathy made his chest hurt, wondering what nightmares chased her so relentlessly.

"Abby," he whispered as she whimpered almost inaudibly. He stroked a finger across her thin, soft cheek, tracing the edge of her cheekbone, the slope of her nose and jut of her determined chin and jaw, watching his own fingers with fascination. He took a deep breath as he realized what he was doing, pulling back slightly, fingers curling into his palm to still the odd tingle of sensation.

As he completed the movement, Abby shuddered with a small sound, her head turning after his hand. Caught, he stared at her tortured face in quiet surprise. Following the small voice of instinct, he gently cupped her cheek in his palm, his thumb moving soothingly over her cheekbone.

"Shhh, it's alright, Abby girl. No dream can hurt you," he singsonged softly, using his voice to offer comfort without thinking about the words. "I'm here, I won't leave you."

He watched with tired satisfaction as her breathing seemed to ease slightly. He ran his thumb over her cheek again. "That's right. I won't leave," he repeated softly, yawning.

Eyeing her carefully, he sank to his rear and shifted to rest his arm on the bed, laying his head on his bent forearm so he faced her as she curled on her side. He watched her until he heard her breathing slow and deepen in more restful sleep, her face relaxing completely as he whispered soft reassurances like a mantra.

He kept his left hand around her cheek, an involuntary smile drifting over his mouth as he examined her tired, but relatively serene face. He brushed his thumb over her lashes, his own sliding down in exhaustion.

Mentally, he reminded himself to wake up early so he could be back in his own bed before the others woke up. Then thought faded as sleep claimed him.

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

 Abby stood stock-still, gazing out at the barren plain before her. The desolation of it was frightening. Heart-crippled. She shivered slightly, horrified as her feet seemed to carry her towards the shifting sand without her conscious volition.

Lance jerked awake, hissing in a breath as his neck muscles protested his position vigorously. He shifted stiffly, blinking blearily, registering the fact that he'd moved in his sleep, the handles to the beside bureau drawers digging into his lower back and shoulders, his arms draped over his stomach. Then he registered what had woken him up.

Abby thrashed violently in her sleep, throttled sounds of pain and rage escaping her as she twisted the sheets tighter and tighter around herself. He came to his knees unsteadily, grabbing an arm as it flew by his ear.

"Abby," he whispered forcefully. She sobbed softly, jerking insistently on her captured arm. Lance lost his grip as her nails flashed over his arm, biting back a grunt of pain, and she rolled away immediately, dangerously close to the opposite side of the bed. He lunged onto the bed, grabbing the tangled bedsheets and reeling her struggling form in until he could trap her in his arms. He paused, breathing heavily, as she suddenly went limp.

He tugged away the sheets quickly from her sweaty form, peering down into her still face in the dim moonlight as she hung in his arms, her head resting against his bicep and shoulder. He touched her cheek lightly.

"Abby?"

She murmured something, and he went stiff with shock as she turned and cuddled close to him with a soft sigh. He sat completely still for long moments, ridiculously afraid to move, or even breathe, for fear of jolting her.

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as his back muscles began to cramp from the odd position. What am I doing? He took a deep breath, debating on whether to tuck her back into bed and get the sleep his own body craved or stay where he was. He had the overwhelming urge to stay exactly where he was. Which is insane. You know that. It'd be best just to…

Abby sighed, stirring restlessly before pressing closer, mumbling something unintelligible. He swallowed, heart beating oddly before he told himself to get a grip. You've lost it. Gone off the deep end. Completely peanutty.

Reluctantly, he moved to lay Abby back on the bed, then froze as she made a noise of pleading protest.

He closed his eyes tightly. He couldn't. He just couldn't. Lance shifted, gaining his feet as smoothly as he could when he was nearly reeling with exhaustion. He made his way over to the chair in the corner next to the wide, low window and nudged it around to face the glass before he collapsed with Abby in his arms.

He sat for a moment, staring blankly at the view between the slats in the blinds. His mind prodded him insistently for a reason for his decision, but he ignored it, finally exhaling, relaxing into the cushions and cuddling the fragile form close. Abby heaved her own sigh, squirming slightly until she was comfortable, her head resting against his heart as she curled up in his lap.

Her breathing slowed, becoming deep and even, and he tilted his head back, careful to keep one arm around her back, the other draped over her bent legs, eyes slitting as he stared into the dust motes dancing in the moonlight, the sight gradually blurring as his own mind fell towards sleep, strangely comforted by the warm weight over his heart.

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

Abby moved restlessly, the sound of distant sirens seeping into the quiet of the night as they raced through the slumbering city, invading the peaceful cocoon she slept in.

The sirens rushed by outside, and Abby jerked upright, breathing raggedly as remembered terror clutched at her muddled mind, her uncle's death and her parents' and grandparents' tangling inextricably with her present grief.

Lance stirred the second he felt the body in his arms move, blinking in brief confusion as his mind fought to remember where he was, to clear the cobwebs. He hugged the rigidly shaking form in his lap instinctively, murmuring soothingly as he pulled her back towards him.

Abby stiffened, confusion welling. She began to struggle sluggishly.

"Abby, shhh, baby, stop," he mumbled sleepily. "It's alright…"

Her confusion worsened, her thoughts drifting like molasses in January. Lance grunted as her elbow glanced off his ribs, becoming more alert, as she lurched forward. He reflexively grabbed her, pulling her back into the curve of his body with an arm around her shoulders.

Her frightened whimper sliced through to him, and he immediately lightened his hold, staring down into the wide, glimmering pools of her eyes.

Fear and pain resided there, and he felt as if he'd been sucker-punched.

"I won't hurt you," he whispered without thought. She trembled, doubt and disbelief flashing in her expressive eyes, too confused to hide them.

"Where am I?" she finally rasped, swallowing as her eyes closed. "Dizzy," she muttered, almost to herself.

Lance hesitated, uncertain how to explain. "With me. I won't hurt you, Abby."

Her head rolled, resting against his chest tiredly, and he thought she might have passed out again. She sighed out a breath.

"Lance?" she murmured, puzzled.

Pleasure that she knew who he was attacked him before he could dismiss it. He ventured to touch her cheek cautiously. "I'm here, Abby."

Her lids struggled open, suddenly lucid. "Sunny," she whispered without warning.

Lance winced, his fingers hesitating. "Abby…"

She was suddenly shoving weakly against his chest. "Let me go. Don't touch me," she almost pleaded, voice ragged.

He caught her chin, watching with unbearable helplessness as tears of frustrated grief filled her eyes, shining in the moonlight.

"Lemme go," her thready voice demanded, despair edging into her eyes.

"I can't. You can't live like this," he told her in a rough whisper.

"I can live however I want. No one cares. You can't…" She broke off to take a deep breath, going limp against him, giving up the fight by refusing to either accede or struggle, turning her head to stare blankly at the window.

Lance watched her warily, waiting. His eyes narrowed when he realized she was shutting him out, or trying to. Shutting down, like she tried to earlier by drinking herself into an unconscious stupor. But what could he do? His jaw tightened, fatigued mind scrambling for something.

Don't touch me. With fear in her eyes. No one cares. Suspicion coalesced in the one still functioning sector of his brain.

Nervousness bit him, but he didn't hesitate, shifting until he was slumped comfortably in the chair, and pulling Abby back into her former position, cuddled snugly against his chest before she could protest. She went still with utter surprise.

"What…what are you doing…?" There was an odd, stunned note to her voice. As if she couldn't believe he'd disregarded her orders.

He grinned tiredly, closing his eyes, feeling rather pleased with himself for shocking her.

"I'm tired," he told her gently. "If you don't want to talk, we might as well sleep."

"I can sleep…I should sleep…" she fumbled, and Lance relaxed further, pulling her close with a deep sigh.

"You were having nightmares. But you seem better when someone's with you," he whispered, suddenly aware that JC was shifting restlessly.

There was another moment of silence. "I..I don't have nightmares…" she tried to deny.

"Liar," he informed her softly. He reached up with his free hand, stroking the silky hair that spilled from her ponytail. She shook her head slowly.

"Why..why won't you all..leave me alone?" she asked in bewilderment, sounding utterly lost.

Lance paused, then touched her jaw, opening his eyes to stare down at the pale oval of her face against his chest. Inwardly, he was mildly shocked at the freedom he was taking in touching her, but he couldn't seem to resist the urge, half comfort, half something else.

"Because you're worth the effort," he told her thoughtfully, smiling faintly. "You have potential, young Abby," he mused, knowing it was the truth. He felt the small shock that ran through her, and she seemed to stop breathing.

"Abby?" he questioned, cupping her cheek. And felt the silent tears trickling down her cheek. "Abby…"

She shoved his hand away from her face abruptly, but instead of pulling away as he expected, she buried her face in his shoulder, shivering, and burrowed close.

His heart somersaulted once, feeling her hands curl into the cotton of his wifebeater.

"I don't want her to die, Lance," her whisper was nearly lost to him, muffled in his chest, her tone hopeless.

Sympathy clouded his eyes as he felt the dampness soaking into his top.

"I know," he sighed. "I know." He rubbed her narrow back gently.

"Abby," he tried softly, hoping the dark and alcohol might release something inside her before she really hurt herself. "You can't be alone with this, you just can't."

She turned her head slowly to rest her cheek against him, silent for long minutes.

"I have to be. There's no other life for me. You'd think I'd be used to it by now." She spoke numbly, quietly, too emotionally drained for evasions.

"You don't have to be alone," he advanced hesitantly.

"Everyone I love dies. I've accepted that. I should just stop trying," she mumbled.

"Don't say that," he spoke in a sharp whisper, giving her a slight shake.

Abby sighed deeply. "I'm screwed up, haven't you realized that by now?" she muttered, resting heavily against him. "Blindness is only one part of how badly I'm warped, Lance. Sometimes I'm actually glad that I can't see. I can see people a lot better now. I know who will screw me over before I can screw them up. Those are the people I let near me, cause I know I can't hurt them. My one gift to humanity. I won't make anyone worse off than they are before they met me. You and your friends need to get away from me. You're good people…just look what I did to Sunny, and I loved her…I loved her..and I can't stop her from dying…couldn't save any of them…"

She shifted, trailing off as the words became muddled, as Lance listened to her absent-minded monologue with stunned disbelief. Was this how she saw herself? Some sort of emotional monster?

"Abby…" he shook his head, speechless.

"Hard to fight the truth," she murmured. "Everybody leaves..you'll leave…"

He was silent, unable to refute that.

Abby's hands tightened slightly. "Thanks for wanting to…" she mumbled with a sigh. Her face nuzzled a little closer, an almost wistful sound escaping her, her voice a breath of sound. "I haven't been held..since Uncle died…"

She went lax against him, dozing into exhausted sleep and leaving him to stare out at the night with thoughtful, solemn eyes until sleep claimed him for its own, still dogged by the awful suspicion that her uncle had died a long time ago.

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

JC squinted as early morning sunshine slanted through the blinds, tempted to roll over and go back to sleep. They so rarely got to sleep in. He stretched, turning his head to glance at the travel alarm. 8:37 a.m. He yawned hugely, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair.

Then blinked hard, closing his eyes and opening them slowly to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

A slow smile curled his lips. "Awwww…" he murmured.

He quickly slipped out of bed, padding across the room and through the connecting door quietly to wake the others.

He did so by throwing open the blinds.

Justin pulled the blankets over his head. Joe buried his head under a pillow.

"Oh, dear God. Shoot me. What did we do last night that makes me feel as if someone poured sand and glass into my eyes, and then tap-danced over them?" Chris groaned, not moving.

JC sat down on the end of the bed with a bounce. "I'll give you one hint. And she's in the next room with a certain albino."

Chris cracked an eye. The blankets moved down. Joe grunted.

"Whaddya mean?" Chris demanded, sitting up with a yawn and tugging on a braid that had been smashed into a vertical position.

"Our shy Mississippi gentleman seems to have gotten quite familiar with our Abby," JC announced.

Justin rolled his eyes, sitting up with a scowl, curls flattened and spiked oddly around his head. "It's too early in the morning for us to use our imaginations. What are you nattering on about?"

JC gestured to the ajar door. "Go see for yourself. And might I add that was a really cool word, Curly. Nattering," he snickered.

"Shut up," Justin muttered, stumbling out of bed and going to the door to stick his head in. He gasped loudly. "Oh My God!"

"What?!" Both Joe and Chris made it to the door in three seconds flat, shoving Justin out of the way.

His good humor restored, Justin leaned over, laughing so hard he was wheezing. Chris slapped him on the back of the head, nearly sending him to the floor, once he'd peeked.

"That so wasn't funny," he grumped. Joe rolled his eyes in agreement, sitting back down on the bed with a yawn.

 "Yes, it was. You should have seen your faces," JC countered, stifling his own laughter.

Chris sighed gustily, peeking again. He smirked slightly.

"Aww, they do look cute though. Joe, you got your camera? We need this for posterity."

"And blackmail," Justin muttered with a slight grin, yawning to wake himself up.

Joe made a sound of confirmation, getting up to rummage in his pile of belongings briefly.

"Got it. Are we doing anything else?" he inquired, checking the batteries.

Justin made a throat-cutting motion. "Hell, no. I would like to live to see today. We might be able to divert Lance, but Abs would happily provide us with a slow and torturous death."

Chris rubbed his head as he passed. "Wow, you're using full sentences and what reasoning powers you have, all before breakfast," he teased.

Justin made a face, sticking his tongue out.

"Ew, one word, Justin, tic-tac," JC waved a hand as he trotted towards the other room.

Justin shoved him lightly. "That's two words, brainiac."

JC shook his head.

"One."

"Two."

"One."

"Two."

Chris cleared his throat, holding a finger to his lips as they tiptoed over to the chair.

"One," JC whispered.

"Two, to the infinity," Justin countered softly, smirking.

JC rolled his eyes. "That was mature," he whispered, punching Justin in the arm.

"Wave, childrens," Joe whispered. Justin froze in the middle of shoving JC back and grinned. They both waved cheerily to the camera.

Chris shook his head. "Must I be the adult? I thought I signed on as the perpetual child," he mumbled, smiling slightly as Joe turned to film the sleeping duo.

Lance was canted sideways in the chair, his shoulders wedged between the back and side of the chair as he slumped back, and had his arms firmly wrapped around the young woman in his arms.

Justin nudged him. "Chris, do you notice something?"

Chris eyed the pair again. "What?"

Justin pointed to Abby. "Not all balled up," he observed softly. "And her face is…peaceful."

"He's right," JC agreed quietly, peeking at Abby's serene features. Her legs were folded slightly beneath her, but she was sprawled comfortably across Lance's chest, one arm curled around his side, the other resting loosely beneath her chin, curled into the material of his shirt. It was the first time they had ever seen her completely relaxed.

The presence of others in the room finally penetrated into Lance's unconscious. He cracked an eyelid reluctantly, feeling as if he'd been run over by the bus.

"What?" he mumbled quietly, knowing the others were there even though he couldn't see them.

"Nothing, we just thought you looked cute," Chris whispered.

Lance made a face.

"You do," Justin insisted, a smile in his voice. "So cute we couldn't do anything to you."

Lance grunted, closing his eye. "Gee, thanks," he murmured.

"You are aware that you have Abs on your lap, right?" Justin prodded.

How could he forget? Lance made a noise that questioned their intelligence. "Yes," he murmured, not wanting to move.

JC cleared his throat. "Would you like to explain how that happened?"

Lance kept his eyes closed, still hanging onto the last vestiges of sleep. "She was having nightmares," he sighed. "So I…" he paused, wondering how to word it.

"Say no more," Chris interrupted quietly. "When was the last time you looked at a clock, buddy?" he asked curiously.

His brow wrinkled. "Three," he mumbled.

"Ouch," Joe shook his head, removing himself from behind the camera.

"Okay, we're going to be nice. Think of it as an early birthday present. The longer she stays asleep, the less of a hangover she'll have," Chris decided. "And you get to sleep in. We have two hours before we need to be packed and ready for that interview thingy. Go back to sleep, man."

JC nudged him with a smile. "Yes, Daddy."

Chris snorted, herding them all out of the room. "Which would make me what? The kids' granddad?"

"You said it, I didn't," JC replied smugly.

Lance sighed softly, smiling slightly as Joe's voice arrived right before he pulled the door around. "Man, Abs is going to have to pee like a racehorse when she finally wakes up. Hate to be her."

Their voices muted, and he shifted carefully into a more comfortable position. Abby murmured softly and settled quickly, snuggling closer as he cradled the back of her head, stroking her hair gently.

Peace wrapped around him, his tired mind heading eagerly back towards sleep.

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

Heaven she thought, closing her eyes blissfully. The sense of peace was incredible. Indescribable.

Abby woke in a cold sweat. Disoriented, she remained still, breathing in and out robotically as dread suspicion clawed through her. When she'd gained control over herself, she carefully turned her awareness outwards.

And froze in frightened remembrance. Her muscles threatened to lock completely as she stiffened, drawing away from the source of warmth and slow breathing beneath her, who held her close.

Lance. Vague memories of the night before filtered into her mind, blurred and uncertain. All she knew was that she had revealed far more than she had ever allowed herself to verbalize, even to herself.

And she couldn't take them back.

She shuddered tightly. Her stomach revolted slightly, her muscles trembling with the urge to bolt blindly, nameless fears and voices of the past swirling through her mind, fueling the roar of blood in her ears.

Her nerves broke. She bolted.

But as soon as her feet hit the floor, so did she, her entire body wailing in horror as her rubbery limbs refused to function, her head throbbing in time with her heartbeat, nausea churning in her stomach.

Sheer stubbornness pushed her to her feet, swaying as she clutched her head and commanded the vertigo to pass.

The initial wave of reaction waned in time to hear feet pounding over the floor, a deep, male voice uttering a confused question from the chair in front of her.

She backed away from both, feeling cornered. By the darkness and unfamiliar helplessness. By the vulnerability she'd exposed herself to. And the nagging, grinding ache in her heart that was spawned by the knowledge that something was wrong with Sunny. Dreadfully wrong.

"Abs?" Justin's voice emerged first from the doorway. "What's wrong?"

She backed away further. "I want to leave."

"Why?" Lance asked softly. He moved to get up, and she couldn't stop herself from flinching. Embarrassment nawed at her, sharpening her voice.

"I want to leave. Now." She made an agitated move, pain throbbing dully at her temples. "I want to leave."

"Where will you go?" Chris.

She tensed a little more as she felt them all come into the room, moving until her back contacted the wall.

"Where will you go?" JC pressed.

"Away from here," Abby snapped, wanting them to back up. Her lungs constricted, the air feeling thicker.

"That's not an answer, Abby," Lance countered, voice tense.

Anger stirred, and she welcomed it. "Too damn bad, pop star. That's the only answer you're going to get," she bit off, breathing more quickly.

"We didn't take care of you last night while you were skunked to let you go off into the sunrise this morning," Lance spoke quietly, voice threaded with steel.

Exactly how he'd taken care of her hung in the air between them, and she inhaled shakily. She managed a smirk, bitterness filling her voice. "Don't worry, pop star. You'll get your reward. I always pay my debts. And I'm sure it won't be hard to find you again."

"I don't want a reward--" Lance spoke gruffly in frustration.

Abby cringed a little inwardly even as she uttered the words. "You mean you already took one while I was unconscious?"

Deadly silence.

Lance snarled something quietly that was too low to hear, and her stomach lurched in guilt. A door slammed seconds later.

She had kept her face stony throughout the exchange with effort, and forced herself to turn to face the others unemotionally.

"Abs," Chris gritted, breaking the stunned silence, obviously furious. "I can't believe what you just said."

She stared at them stonily, blanking her gaze with the ease of long practice. "Believe what you wish. I want to leave."

Chris barked a humorless laugh. "By all means, get out."

A horrible tightness gripped her chest, but she firmly quashed the desire to take the words back. Nothing could take the words back, there was no reason to, and every reason to make sure they hated her guts.

She heard the doorknob turn, pinpointing the location immediately. She strode towards the escape on rubbery knees without hesitation, feeling their angry, disappointed stares burning holes into her. She felt the change in the air, the cool air of the hall swirling through the door in eddying currents. Freedom.

"No," Justin declared suddenly, and she froze as an arm suddenly shot out in front of her.

Her spirit faltered. "Don't do this, superstar," she spoke quietly. "Just let it go."

"What are you doing?" Chris demanded. "She wants to go so badly, let her leave."

Abby closed her eyes, sheer willpower keeping her from flying apart.

"That's exactly what she wants us to think," Justin stated stubbornly.

She felt his probing stare, trying to peer beneath her shields.

"She wouldn't be pushing us away so hard if we weren't dangerous to her self-contained world where she thinks she can't be hurt."

The air disappeared from her lungs, and for a second she couldn't find her voice, gathering her strength for one last verbal arrow.

"No self-important, over-confident pop stars, caught in their own little gilded world of deluded adolescent adoration are dangerous to my equilibrium," Abby gritted. "You will never know me, none of you. And before you psychoanalyze me again, remember that I don't want to know any of you either."

Stomach burning, Abby ducked beneath Justin's arm, rushing blindly down the hall before they could react. She stumbled once as she bumped a potted plant, moving awkwardly, drunkenly, around it. Her shoulder hit the wall, and she gasped as the wall gave beneath her weight, staggering inside a room through the door that had been left slightly ajar.

"Miss?" A startled female voice asked, the smell of disinfectants wafting around her.

Trembling, Abby sank to her knees, blood roaring in her ears.

"Miss?" The voice came from a distance.

"Bathroom," Abby gasped out, arms wrapped around her waist. She was tugged to her feet after a second, and stumbled into the cool room behind the maid. She crumpled next to the commode, heaving until nothing else would come up.

A glass of water was pressed into her hands when she finally sank back, trembling.

"Miss? Are you sick?" The maid asked warily, flushing the toilet.

"No," Abby whispered numbly. She realized that she was wearing borrowed male clothes, no shoes or socks. And she had lost her backpack.

Tears of futility and frustration burned behind her lids. She pressed her knuckles to her eyes, pressing hard to contain the urge to lose it right there. Keep it together, Abby. Have to. Have to.

"Can I..can I use the phone?" she managed. The other woman made a noise of assent, leaving the room.

Abby drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly and rocking slowly back and forth in a vain attempt to still the trembling chills that seemed to radiate from her core.

She buried her face against her knees, and the chills worsened as she breathed in the clean, woodsy scent that clung to the clothes she wore. Lance. Forgive me. Justin, Chris, JC, Joe. Oh God, I can't even forgive myself.

"Miss?" The cordless phone was pressed into her shaking hands, and she dialed the number by rote. The phone was picked up after the first ring.

"Max?" her voice was thready.

"ABS! I've been trying to get ahold of you for hours!" Max nearly shouted. Then his voice quieted. "Abs…"

Her eyes closed, and she rested her forehead on her knees, the scent rising up to blanket her. "Sunny?" she whispered.

"Abs…Sunny..she…" Max stumbled before continuing almost inaudibly.

Silent tears slid out from underneath her lashes, the coldness inside her spreading into a numbing ache.

© 2000 demented911@yahoo.com