Moonlight Sonata

~~Two Weeks Later~~

"Superstar?"

His half-closed eyes jerked open as Abby's whisper slid through the quiet. The TV screen flickered light and shadow in the darkness, muted, and Justin watched as she crossed the floor of the back lounge, settling beside him on the couch.

She sank back, crossing her legs Indian style as she waited, and a reluctant smile curved his mouth.

"Nothing's wrong," he assured her.

"I didn't think anything was wrong," she replied, unperturbed. "But you have another busy day tomorrow. Insomnia isn't healthy in your line of business."

"I was just too hyped to sleep. Mind's too busy, I guess," he explained. "I'm tired, but I can't fall asleep."

Abby suddenly scooted away slightly, placing her back against the arm of the sofa, and gestured, tugging on his shoulder. "Lay down."

He sighed as he stretched out, lying on his back with his head in Abby's lap. Slender, strong fingers raked through his curls, massaging his scalp, and his eyes rolled back in bliss, closing with a grateful sigh as the mild tension in his head melted.

"I don't think I'm going to let you go home," he mumbled dreamily.

Abby chuckled softly. "I don't think I fit into carry-on luggage. And no way am I being in regular shipment. Do you know how often they get lost?"

He grinned, his brain firing sluggishly. "Look at it this way--you'll get to see lots of exciting foreign lands."

Abby snorted. "You name a country, it's a good bet I've already been there."

Her knuckles circled his temples. "Really? Where? What did you think of them?" he mumbled.

She was quiet a moment. "All over Africa. China. Southeast Asia. Russia. East and Western Europe. The upper part of South America. I've seen a lot of Japan and Western Europe. My father was French, so I spent a lot of time there as a child. They were--different. Very…eye-opening, if you'll excuse the phrase. The States are an extremely nice place to live by comparison to many of them. But the cultures…some of them are so rich. The diversity out in the world is incredible. But I'm glad I am where I am."

"Why?" he murmured.

"Because if I lived in a lot of those places, I wouldn't be who I am. Most countries view blindness as a handicap so severe that I wouldn't be allowed anything beyond menial labor. Even with money, I would be coddled, closeted away; I would be restricted in my movements, dependent upon relatives for any sort of education and care."

She shook her head. "I am very lucky, Justin. Blindness may cause me problems, but at least here I can prove that lack of sight does not mean lack of intelligence."

He smiled. "Somehow, I think you would have proved them wrong no matter where you were."

That drew a laugh. "Your confidence in me warms my heart, superstar." Her words were teasing, but the seriousness in her voice brought his eyes open a slit.

"I have never met anyone like you," he murmured.

It was true. He'd never met a person with so many layers. She was like a Rubick's cube; you would manage to get all the squares of the same color on one side only to realize that you'd just made it impossible for the other sides to fit together. Abby was an enigma, prone to strange moods and cryptic behavior one minute and laughter the next. She was complicated and fascinating--and frustrating. But the core of emotion and softness was peeking out more and more, surrounded by a determined strength.

He smiled sleepily. "Magic, I don't think there's anything you can't do. You're fearless. And you've got an attitude that makes people shake in their boots."

An odd expression flitted over her face in the dimness, gone between one flash of the silent TV and the next.

"You'd be surprised sometimes," she whispered, the pads of her fingers rubbing circles in the top of his skull. "Sometimes I have no clue what comes next," she murmured thoughtfully. "I wish…"

"Wish what?" he asked, curious.

Abby laughed shortly. "Wish there were an instruction manual. Something to tell me I'm doing the right thing. That I'm doing something worthwhile."

"Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously. "I've seen the amount of money you give to charity, the not-for-profit places you endow, the number of people you help employ."

"Money's not everything," Abby murmured wryly. "I'm not arguing the ease it can bring, but there are other things…"

He caught her hands as she fell silent, sitting up beside her. "What, Abs? Tell me what you want."

She hesitated, then suddenly shook her head. "Forget it. How this turned into a psych session I'll never understand."

She started to get up, but he grabbed her hand, tugging her back down to sit on his lap. He rested his chin on her shoulder, chuckling as she hunched away from him.

"Now, none of that. Don't turn stubborn, Abs. I thought we were friends?" he pouted, peering at her frowning face.

Abby sighed. "We are, superstar. But there are some things I don't like talking about, not even with myself," she mumbled dryly.

"Why not?" he asked, tightening his arms when she would have squirmed away.

She sighed heavily. "Because people don't understand. Either they try to sympathize or patronize me."

Justin was now intensely curious. "What, Abs? You know I won't--"

Abby relaxed slightly. "I know. I just--" she paused. "Justin, when you look at the future, what do you see?" she changed the subject, an odd note in her voice.

He thought a moment. "I dunno. I hope I'm still making music, preferably with the rest of the guys. I hope that we're branching out, reaching other people with our music and otherwise. Is that what you mean?"

"Sort of. And who do you see in your future?"

Suspicions began trickling through his mind. "I'm not really sure. Family, friends. And, I hope, someone special--"

"A girl?"

"Yeah, hopefully," he tried to lighten his tone.

Abby didn't laugh.

"Marriage? Kids?" came the soft questions.

"Yeah," he answered slowly. "Eventually. When I'm ready and life isn't so hectic."

Abby nodded. "That," she told him, "Is what makes life worthwhile. You can touch people in many ways with money and fame. But it's family and friends that you have the most influence on. Those are the people that you have forever."

Her voice was almost inaudible as she finished, and he heard what she didn't say at all. And I'll never have that.

He didn't know what to say. All the reassuring words he could think of were either--sympathetic or patronizing. He grimaced.

"You have us," he offered quietly, unable to think of anything else. He hugged her slender form. "You mean a lot to us, magic."

She shifted with a sigh, then laughed softly. "Thanks for refraining from the first two options," she murmured, and he smiled. She squeezed his hands. "You're good friends," she whispered.

His smile widened. "Even when we're pissing you off?" he asked teasingly.

Abby chuckled. "Even when you're pissing me off," she agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Go to bed, J," Abby ordered softly as a yawn escaped him.

He nodded tiredly. "I think I'm ready. You coming?"

"In a minute. Why do you think I was up in the first place?" she countered when he started to protest. She smiled slightly. "I'll be fine. You need sleep more than I do."

"Was it--was it a nightmare?" Justin asked worriedly, standing and stretching.

"No. Just a touch of insomnia. I'm prone to them. Go to bed," she repeated. He mumbled an assent, leaning down to kiss her forehead affectionately.

"At the risk of sounding patronizing, could I say that any guy who doesn’t like you back is an idiot?" he asked through a yawn.

Abby's mouth crooked up in a half-smile, her eyes glowing faintly in the flickering light. "You can say it, and I'll just nod and smile, how's that?"

He chuckled, tugging on the braid that hung over her shoulder. "Anyone who thinks you're some innocent, agreeable chick has a surprise coming," he muttered. "Night, magic."

"Night, J. Now scoot."

She listened until she heard the slight thumps of Justin climbing into his bunk and situating himself, then the soft hiss of the curtain closing.

Silence descended, the large bus flying down the ribbon of highway to the next city, the next venue and concert.

Abby yawned, curling up in the arm of the couch and hugging a pillow close, listening to the sounds of silence around her. To the untrained ear, they would be inaudible, noises so everyday they blended into the background, filtered out by the human ear.

But she could hear them. The ticking of the clock on the wall. The low, constant thrum of the television in the corner. The hum of the tires skimming across the pavement. The slight, low vibrating rattle of one of the windows in its frame. The hushed whisper of blankets as one of those sleeping in the bunks shifted restlessly. The symphony of soft snoring. The clink of a cup as the night shift driver set his coffee cup down.

She closed her eyes, a slight smile curving her lips. Usually she heard these sounds while wrapped in a cocoon of isolation. Sunny had broken the aloneness simply by being there, but she had missed human contact. Even if highly irritating at times.

"Everyone on this tour is our responsibility," Lance continued relentlessly, silencing her. "We are responsible for making sure they're fed, housed, and get from place to place with as little fuss as possible. And above all else, we're responsible for the safety of everyone on tour with us. Including you, little Miss."

A soft laugh escaped her. She had discovered that living with five famous pop stars was rather like living with five rowdy, hormonal young males with a license to tour.

She shook her head, absently pulling the elastic off the tail of her braid and relacing the heavy mass.

The first week had been the worst. Not knowing where she was half the time and struggling to learn the layout of the bus along with the names of the numerous people on staff for the tour, some of whom she'd only met once and others who she knew by name and voice. The frustration of having to actually teach the people around her not to leave things strewn around the floor--she'd realized just how thankful she was for Anna and Ray. Swallowing her pride and agreeing to accept one of the bodyguards as an escort if she wasn't with them at the venues or wanted to go out without them.

Her lips twisted in a wry smile. And them. It always came back to them. She'd been overwhelmed at just the thought of not being alone 24/7. Nothing she could have imagined would have prepared her for the experience of living among five young men on a bus. She had decided that she'd agreed in a moment of pure insanity.

 "Lance?"

His eyes popped open.

Lance sighed, barely catching himself from sitting upright and braining himself on the top of the bunk. He slumped back, scrubbing his face violently.

"What are you doing to yourself?" he whispered softly. "What are you thinking? Beyond wishful?" He groaned silently, sprawling bonelessly as he stared blindly at the ceiling. "Stop torturing yourself and get a grip. What is it that you can't leave alone?" he demanded softly of the silence. "She's just a girl, Lance. Just a girl. And you don't have time…"

The soft murmur of voices from the back room caught his attention, momentarily distracting him. He closed his eyes. Justin and Abby. He felt a small twinge of jealousy but squelched it. As he listened, the voices quieted, and then Justin came back to the bunks, climbing into his own and closing the curtain.

Abby didn't follow. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying to will himself back to sleep.

"Just a girl," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. "And too much trouble at that."

 "Lance?"

He nearly leaped out of his skin, instinctively gripping his heart as he caught his breath.

"What, Abby?" he managed to whisper in return.

"Why are you awake?"

She wouldn't open his curtain. Not that she had any reason to in the first place in order to see him, but she valued privacy too much to do it anyway. He sighed and shoved the curtain open as quietly as possible.

"No particular reason. Just woke up."

Abby nodded. "Just checking. Don't let me keep you up."

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he watched her turn and head towards the kitchen. He turned his head to stare at the ceiling briefly, listening to Joey cough, then resume snoring, turning over heavily.

He grimaced, then threw his legs over the side, dropping down onto the floor and padding into the kitchen. He greeted the driver softly when the man glanced up and waved, then watched with silent curiosity as Abby methodically went about making a cup of tea.

Fascinated, he watched her open the cabinet, her hand drifting delicately over the cups there before selecting the one she wanted, flipping it and placing it silently on the countertop, then setting the tea bag inside. She'd already started the teakettle heating, and after she finished with the cup, she turned to him.

"What?"

He blinked. "Nothing," he hurriedly went to one of the booths and slid inside, raking his hands through his rumpled hair.

Abby cocked her head, then mumbled something he couldn't hear before turning to him again.

"Would you like some tea? It's decaf."

"Sure," he agreed cautiously, watching as she repeated the steps with the cup again.

She walked over and slid into the booth opposite him, clasping her hands together and staring towards him contemplatively. "I'm not going to bite your head off again."

He eyed her warily. "I didn't think--"

Abby eyes narrowed, flashing briefly in the dim light provided by the nightlight over the sink. "Yeah, you do. Otherwise you wouldn't have been avoiding me since the night before last."

"I haven't been avoiding you," he denied, sitting back and crossing his arms.

Abby smiled slightly. "Liar. If it's possible to avoid someone on a bus, you've managed it." Her smile faded. "I don't know what you all want from me," she sighed suddenly. The teakettle began to whistle softly, and she got up and went over to the stove as he stared after her speechlessly.

"What are you talking about?" he asked slowly, watching carefully as she poured the boiling water into the cups, one hand curled around the rims to guide her movements. She completed the routine twice without mishap and set the kettle back on the stove, flipping off the burner.

She walked slowly back to the table with both steaming mugs, setting them on the table before resuming her seat.

"Abby?" he prodded as she curled her hands around the hot mug. He ignored his after pulling it towards himself.

Abby shook her head slightly. "Why is PMS such a shocking thing for you all to think about?" she asked suddenly.

"It--it's not," he fumbled, blushing to the roots of his hair.

"Just when it's connected to me?" Abby questioned, a closed expression on her face.

"That's--why are you asking me this?" he changed the subject.

Abby stared down into her tea silently. "I guess it was too much to hope that you all would treat me normally."

He sat back. "Normally?" he echoed.

Abby's gaze lifted. "Have you noticed the contradiction? You all rotate where I sleep if we stay in a hotel. You're all just fascinated by what I can do. But you're very careful to avoid discussing what I can't. And that includes the things in your lives that I don't have and never will. I'm blind, not stupid."

Abby sighed as he sat silently, absorbing the mildly cryptic and frustrated statements. "Guess I bit your head off again. And this time I didn't even mean to. Goodnight, Lance."

She started to rise with the abrupt statements, but he grabbed her wrist. "No. Sit, and explain what you just said," he requested softly.

He thought she would resist for a second, but she sank back down, and he breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Abby?"

She rubbed her face with her hands. "All my life, people have tried to spin this cocoon of insulation between me and the rest of the world." She looked up, her gaze intense. "I have wished so hard for someone, anyone, to treat me as a normal person. I've come to face the fact that I'm not a normal person and never will be. But you always keep hoping, you know? Hope just dies a little at a time," she mumbled, then shook her head.

"And we've done that?" he asked softly, thinking back.

Abby shrugged with a sigh. "Not as badly as I've had to deal with on occasion. I know it's just the protective thing. And that's not necessarily bad. And being treated as something like a sister isn't either."

"But that's not what's upsetting you," he stated.

Abby stared down into her cooling cup of tea, making no move to drink it.

"Justin was upset tonight."

He frowned. "I heard him talking with you," he agreed reluctantly.

"He just claimed it was from being too hyped up," Abby continued softly.

"Sometimes that happens after a show," he shrugged, puzzled.

"Justin wasn't hyped up from the show. He was upset. At some point today, the girl he's been seeing called him and told him she was calling it off."

Lance's eyes widened. "She--" he began, then stopped.

Abby's lips twisted. "Exactly."

"Exactly what?" he asked warily.

"Do you think I'm unaware that you all date? That you have girlfriends? Some of them serious?" Abby asked with clinical curiosity. "Do you think that actually hearing it from you all will make me depressed? Or jealous?"

He hesitated.

Abby smiled wryly. "This friendship thing never seems to smooth out, does it? Or is it the parties involved?" She grimaced slightly. "One in particular."

Lance sucked in a breath. "No, quit saying that." He groped for words. "We're not used to being real open because our fans don't want to hear it--"

Abby laughed under her breath. "I'm not that kind of fan. But I'm a blind girl that will never see the light of day. Or the face of anyone who makes the effort to get past all the problems I face and the demands that blindness makes on the person I get involved with. It doesn't take a whole lot to realize that it will never happen. Not in this lifetime. But that's a limitation that I'll accept. It has nothing to do with all of you. None of you will turn to stone if you mention your girlfriend's name in my presence."

Her tone of voice closed her comments for discussion. His chest ached, but he told himself there was nothing he could offer her. "I'll remember that.," he murmured. "Maybe you should tell the others this too, Abby."

She smiled slightly, finally taking a sip of her tea. "You mean bawl them out?"

He laughed quietly. "We'll just call it having a strong discussion."

Abby paused slightly, a frown fluttering over her face.

"Can I ask you a question, Lance?"

"Yeah."

"Why aren't you dating?"

He slumped in the seat, sighing. "I'm just not right now," he hedged. "I just got out of a relationship," he continued reluctantly. "The way we both lived just made it incredibly difficult to start something and keep it going."

Abby was quiet a few seconds, drawing abstract patterns on the table. "She was an entertainer also?"

"Yeah. She does television. She just graduated, plus she was working. We were touring, doing appearances. It just got to the point when I was seeing her less that I was seeing my family. We tried, but it was impossible. I still see her; we're still friends. But it's better this way."

Abby cocked her head, staring into the distance out the bus window. "Who are you trying to convince?"

He snorted, gulping some of the cooled tea. "I'm not trying to convince anyone."

She turned her gaze towards him. "It must be hard. To have that potential to be close to someone in a romantic way, and then lose it," she spoke with curious detachment, but there was a thread of something else that made him look at her more closely.

Regret? Longing? He didn't know which. Her eyes were dark, full of secrets that she refused to give out.

"It is hard, because it almost always ends," he agreed softly. "It's hard to ask them to wait for you. Hard to travel and be on the road, wondering what they're doing while you're gone. Inevitably, it's the jealousy and distance that does you in. You can't learn enough about one another to know who the other person is and trust them."

Abby frowned. "Getting to know the real person is hard enough when you are with them," she agreed softly.

There was something in her voice. Lance frowned. "Abby?"

She shook her head. "People like to assume things about me," she stated cryptically, staring into her cup.

"Ab--"

"There was a possibility, once," she murmured, almost absently.

"What?" he asked, sitting back slightly in surprise. His stomach twisted.

Her eyes flickered up. "He asked me out within an hour of meeting me, but I told him no. I was gone that same night. But I wondered for a long time afterwards…I had forgotten."

"He knew--" Lance started cautiously.

Abby shook her head abruptly. "No. I'm very good at hiding it if I want to. I wasn't sure what he wanted--didn't know how to react. So I just let him assume that nothing was wrong. When I refused, he left, so I guess it wasn't that important."

"That's the only time you've ever--" he paused, unsure how to continue.

Abby shrugged, sliding out of the booth and going to dump her tea out in the sink. "Yeah. Most people know immediately and don't even attempt approaching me unless they want something."

"Abby--guys--they don't take rejection well," Lance advanced tentatively. "Contrary to popular opinion, the ego is a fragile thing," he stated wryly.
"And contrary to popular opinion, I'm not a non-gender, but that doesn't stop it from happening," Abby spoke softly, putting her cup into the basket in the sink and padding quietly back into the lounge.

Lance watched her go, his mouth open, his tired mind processing the information as quickly as possible. She rejected people deliberately. Before they could reject her. Damn.

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

Lance groaned as his curtain was pulled open, a pillow dropped on his face.

"Up, Scoop. Another day, 'nother interview, sound check, meet 'n greet, concert, and afterparty," JC mumbled, yawning and stumbling towards the kitchenette.

Lance rolled over with a grunt, pulling the pillow over his head as he attempted to recapture sleep.

A finger poked him.

"Touch me again, lose the finger," he growled, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Nice. And you're supposed to be the Southern gentleman?" Chris asked, cheerful.

"Bite me," Lance groaned, his eyes feeling like sand had been poured into them.

"Oooh, interesting concept. Where would you like--"

"Guys, why is Abs sleeping in the back?" Justin asked through a yawn, running a hand through his flattened head of curls as he walked through the aisle.

Lance snorted, finally lowering the pillow when he knew he wouldn't be able to regain sleep. "Because she wanted to. Any other questions?"

"Rowr," Chris made clawing motions, snickering. "Are we having issues, Lance?"

"Screw you," he barked irritably, then sighed. "We're overnighting, right?"

"Yeah, we get to sleep in marginally more comfortable hotel beds tonight after partying hard," Chris answered sunnily, unfazed by Lance's comments. The older man bounced towards the kitchen.

Lance rubbed his hands over his face, propping himself on his elbows and blinking to clear his fuzzy vision.

"You and Abs didn't fight last night, did you?" Justin asked quietly, and Lance started, having forgotten he was there.

He looked at his younger friend with raised brows. "Not that I recall. How do you know we talked?"

"Woke up and heard you," Justin replied briefly.

Lance sighed and swung his legs out of the bunk, dropping down to the floor beside Justin. "That reminds me. Are you okay?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. With the Carrie situation."

Justin trailed him into the kitchen. "How did you know that?" he demanded, getting a bowl for his cereal. "I haven't told anyone--"

"Abby knew," Lance told him briefly.

Justin stared at him, confused. "But she doesn't know about her."

"Wrong again," Lance informed him dryly. He looked over to the booth, where Chris and JC were munching muffins and bagels and leaned across to grab a muffin for himself.

"Evidently, we all suck at hiding things from her. Well, at least you four," he told them, settling on the bench fronting the window.

Chris cocked an eyebrow. "Hey, I thought we did a pretty good job. What're we hiding from who?"

"Your love lives from Abby."

"Well, at least ours aren't pathetic," JC retorted. Hurt panged briefly, but he ignored it.

"Actually, you're all pathetic," Abby remarked, amused, as she walked into the kitchen, followed by a whistling Joey.

"We are?" Justin asked sadly, carrying his bowl over to the table.

"Pretty much." Abby raised a brow at him, pausing next to the fridge. "Hanging up after saying the words "Love you, baby" and telling me it was your mom? Should I continue?"

"Um, no, please," Joey requested with a chuckle, nudging her out of the way so he could get into the fridge.

Abby shook her head, rummaging in the basket of fruit next to the fridge. "Brief summary: I'm not going to die of shock or jealousy, or whatever. I would think that at some point you would want them here to visit." She shook her head. "So, in other words, feel free to discuss whatever you want around me."

Chris grinned. "Abs, I've been really constipated lately. Any suggestions?"

Abby rolled her eyes as JC groaned and slapped the back of Chris's head. "Eat more fruit," she advised with a laugh, waving around a banana.

"Poor Lance," Justin remarked, his mouth full.

Abby sat down next to Lance with the banana.

"Poor Lance?" she asked absently, wrestling slightly with the stubborn piece of fruit.

"Yeah, we get the watered down version," Justin replied, ignoring Lance's head shake.

Abby paused. "I thought you were asleep?"

"Woke up," Justin told her, crunching vigorously.

Abby was silent, still trying to get the banana peel to split open.

She grimaced. "Has anyone ever told you that you excel at guilt trips with barely a word?" she asked.

Having watched the conversation ping-pong with JC and Joey, Chris finally asked, "What do you have to feel guilty about? Did you call Lancey-poo another bad name?"

Abby narrowed her eyes, and Lance stifled a laugh as pink edged across her cheeks.

"Shut up, Chris. No, I did not. We just had a--" she hesitated. "Conversation."

The silver-grey eyes turned towards him. "I don't remember yelling at you. Did I?" she asked wryly.

He shook his head, looking at the others, and plucked the banana from her. "No, we just had a discussion."

"A discussion?" JC repeated.

"Yeah," he frowned, yanking on the stem of the banana as it refused to budge. "What is wrong with this thing?"

Justin laughed. "Is someone not smarter than the banana?"

"Hush up, superstar. I wasn't able to get it open either," Abby warned.

"Give it to me," Justin held out his hand, and Lance tossed it to him.

"I do eventually want to eat that. Please don't mangle it," Abby requested.

"I'm--" Justin grunted as he attempted to split the peel. "Not."

A disbelieving expression crossed her face. A phone rang insistently, toning musically.

Justin cocked his head. "Mine, I think. Here, Chris, you try."

The banana was handed off, and Justin left to find his cell phone.

Abby sank back, crossing her arms as she waited patiently for someone to rescue her breakfast.

Lance laughed, biting his lip. "You want some of my muffin? Or there's bagels."

Abby shook her head, directing her gaze heavenward as Chris cursed.

"Here, Jace." The banana exchanged hands, Joey watching with amusement.

JC examined the banana from all angles before attacking it.

Abby sighed. "Why don't I just get another banana?" she asked, trying not to smile.

"No, I'll get it," JC glared at the banana in his hands, pausing to examine it again.

Abby looked toward him with a faint grin. "If testosterone was the only hormone on earth, we'd have all died waiting for men to figure out how to start a fire with sticks. Flint was a woman's invention."

Lance snorted. "Abby--"

Abby sobered suddenly. "I didn't yell last night, figuratively speaking, did I?" she asked softly. "Sometimes I don't react well…and Justin had already--"

"It's fine," he cut her off. "Abby, you can rant all you want. That's what we're here for. If we're doing something wrong, tell us."

Abby's head tilted, then her attention was jerked towards the back room as Justin called for her.

"You guys defeat the banana yet?" she asked.

"Almost," JC growled.

"No, not even close," Joey snickered.

Abby grinned, getting up. "Well, why don't I just grab another?" she asked rhetorically, then turned around suddenly.

"Thanks, Lance," she smiled, then leaned down, her hand finding his shoulder lightly.

His eyes widened as her lips brushed his cheek, the smell of flowers and rain surrounding her.

He watched, stunned, as she moved towards the back.

"Wait," Joey called, grabbing the banana from JC. The other man quickly took a butter knife and cut through the top of the banana, handing Abby the freed fruit.

"My hero," Abby grinned, reaching up to pat his cheek, then disappeared.

"Lance? Lance?" Chris waved a hand, grinning as Lance snapped abruptly back into focus.

"What?" he asked automatically.

Joey looked at JC and Chris. "Well, at least we're the only ones who can see the goofy grin."

Lance blinked, and quickly erased the smile he hadn't been aware of as they chuckled.

"I'm not," he denied immediately.

Joey threw an orange at him. "Keep telling yourself that. They have a river in Egypt named after you."

"Thanks for the geography lesson," he grumbled, winging the fruit back. "How much longer am I stuck on here with all of you?"

"Long enough to rag on you until you want to strangle us," JC told him cheerfully.

"So we're talking another twenty minutes or less?" he asked dryly, then got up. "I'm going back to bed."

"Party-pooper. Why do you have to ruin all our fun?" Chris complained.

"It's a talent," Lance informed him, smirking, then walked out of the confined room, crawling back into his bunk and pulling the pillow back over his head as he heard his friends start talking again.

His eyes closed, feeling the softness of her lips again. A smile crept out. But not for just the reasons his friends believed. Abby was normal. Good qualities and bad habits and quirks. And beyond normal in many ways. In every way that counted. She had come a long way, was capable of more than she thought. And he could-- He stopped the train of thought, his heart beating faster as his eyes popped open. He took a deep breath and sighed it out, blanking his mind and closing his eyes again. What's on the schedule today, Lance?

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

"Abs?"

"No, I don't know where it is."

Lance snorted through a laugh, looking across the coffee table that both he and Abby had their feet propped on, holding their laptops on their knees as they caught up with their Net lives. Abby had exchanged her headset for earbuds, and had one in and one out as she listened to her computer and made phone calls.

"Abs, you don't even know what I was going to say," Joey complained.

"You left your earrings on the bus. They're probably on top of the TV where you left them when you took them out last night."

"Oh." Joey was silent, and Abby tapped something on her laptop carefully. "How'd you know?"

Abby grinned, looking towards him. "Should I tell him?"

Lance nodded, smiling. "You should. He shouldn't live with delusions."

Abby sighed dramatically. "Fine, then. Joe, you were in here five minutes ago grumbling about your Superman studs."

Joey frowned. "I was, huh? Okay, then how did you know where they were?" he challenged.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Practice. If I forgot where everything was, I'd be pretty screwed, wouldn't I?"

Joey nodded thoughtfully. "True, true. But were you in the room when this occurred?"

Abby's lips twitched. "What is this, cross examination? Are we witch-hunting? Yes, Joseph, I was in the room when it occurred."

Joey grinned and leaned over the back of the couch to hug her, causing her to yelp with surprise.

"What are you doing?"

"You just looked like you needed a hug."

Abby groaned, slapping her forehead as Lance chuckled. "And how do you know these things?" she asked archly.

"It's a talent," Joey left whistling.

Abby made a sour face at him before smiling reluctantly. "You have weird friends, don't you know."

Lance nodded. "Yeah. I know."

Abby raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what am I saying?" You're weird."

He shook his head. "Maybe. But don't I seem normal by comparison?"

Abby stared at him, then nodded thoughtfully. "My God. You're right. I'm impressed, Lance."

He laughed. "I'm smart too," he offered.

"So modest," Abby snorted.

"Isn't it though?"

"Abs?"

"No, I don't know where it is," she declared automatically.

Justin crossed his arms as Lance burst out laughing.

"What? Abs, I can't find my shirt. Do you know--"

"Do I have 'oracle' or 'psychic' stamped on my forehead, and I'm not aware of it?" she asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Not that I can see. Maybe it's sewn into the tag on your shirt? Or maybe written in marker on your underwear," Lance offered, laughing at the look on her face.

Abby looked towards Justin and raised a brow. "Which shirt?" she asked in resignation.

He ruffled her hair, which wasn't very successful since it was in a ponytail.

She grunted and ducked her head. "Great, thanks. Do you know how long it takes to get this hairstyle?" she grumbled.

Justin laughed and draped himself along the back of the couch. "Shirt?" he whined playfully.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Which shirt?" she asked patiently, as if talking to a very slow child.

"My blue Fubu jersey."

"That the one with the raised fluffy-rubbery thing on it?"

"The lettering?" Justin laughed. "Yeah."

"You tossed it into the spare bunk for washing."

Justin frowned. "I did? Shoot," he muttered.

"You don't have any other clothes to wear?" Abby asked absently, fingering the buttons on her phone.

"Well, yeah, but I wanted to wear that," Justin explained.

Abby looked up with a laugh. "If it helps, I don't care what you wear, superstar." Her eyes glinted with laughter.

Justin chuckled. "Aww, that's sweet."

"Yup, it is. Just don't take it the wrong way. I do want you to wear clothes."

Justin burst out laughing, running away as Lance threw a sofa pillow at him.

"Must you encourage them?" Lance asked, long-suffering.

"Yes, I must," Abby replied solemnly, looking over with a mischievous smile. "We're clothed nowadays, right, Lance?"

He shook his head. "I don't need clothes, I need tranquilizers."

Abby leaned back with a grin. "For them or you?"

He groaned a laugh.

"Check your e-mail," he instructed with a smile.

"Which one?"

"The foundation?"

"Checked."

"The corporation?"

"Checked."

"Any other one dealing with business?"

"Checked."

Lance rolled his eyes. "What about your personal one?"

Abby made a face. "The only e-mails I get at that one are from my relatives asking for more money," she grumbled. "I just shuttle them to accounting anyway."

"Then check your stock quotes."

"Already did that," she caroled.

"Then call Anna; she worries," he ordered.

Abby blinked, then nodded meekly. "Yes, Lance."

He watched with an inward grin as she dialed the number to the Florida house.

"Anna? It's--" Abby grimaced and pulled the phone away from her ear. Lance could hear Anna shouting from his position several feet away.

"Told you," he chuckled.

Abby made a face. "Shut up, Cowboy."

"There should be a statute of limitations on embarrassing nicknames," he mumbled, scanning the screen in front of him.

He looked up as Abby snickered. "Life would be so boring then," she murmured, bringing the phone back to her ear to speak.

Lance watched for a minute longer as Abby rolled her eyes and responded to something Anna told her before laughing.

"Life would not be boring," he mumbled, directing his eyes back to the screen resolutely. 

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

"I wouldn't advise that, Joey," Abby shook her head, sliding her sunglasses on as they descended. "Even your bodyguards wouldn't be able to stop a girl from hurting you for that one."

The others laughed at Joey's grimace, Mike and Lonnie sighing long-sufferingly from the back of the elevator.

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open. Rising cries of excitement greeted them.

"Uh-oh," Abby muttered. "Maybe I should have just ordered room service with Chris and JC."

"Nah, it's cool. We sign a few things, take some pictures, then go eat," Justin grabbed her hand, tucking it in the crook of his elbow and stepping out of the elevator.

Abby visibly winced as Justin's name was shrieked. Hotel employees were vainly trying to keep the noise down.

Justin flashed a smile, waving, as cameras went off. A dozen young teenagers crowded around them as Lonnie hovered threateningly behind Justin.

"Hey, ladies, how's it going?" he greeted.

"Who's that, Justin?" a dark-eyed brunette demanded, pointing at Abby.

Justin refrained from rolling his eyes. "This is a friend of mine. Her name's Abby."

Abby smiled faintly. "Hello. How are you all?"

"Is she your girlfriend?" came the next demand, and Justin heaved a sigh.

"No," Abby answered for him, her smile suddenly brightening as Lance came up on her other side. "We're friends. Besides, I don't want to have to fight Lance for him."

Justin's mouth dropped open, darting a glance down at Abby as she flashed him a mischievous smile.

Lance groaned. "I didn't catch all of that, but I'm guessing she just made fun of us," he announced wryly.

"Bad Abs," Justin scolded, and Abby smiled innocently as ripples of laughter came from the girls around them.

He grinned, passing her to Lonnie as their audience began to clamor for autographs and pictures and hugs.

"Be good," he admonished teasingly.

A brow lifted behind the mirrored lenses. "Bite me, bleach boy," she told him sweetly.

Lance winced in mock-sympathy. "Ouch, sucks to be you." He chuckled and greeted the next teenager.

"Whatever," Justin complained, smiling for a camera.

Abby waited patiently, talking quietly with Lonnie as they signed and smiled their way through the crowd. Joey arrived to finish sending the last on their way before they were quickly escorted to the room where the hotel had set up a buffet lunch.

"What's on the menu?" Abby asked.

"Lots of stuff," Joey told her, scanning the tables.

"Oh, that helps," she snorted.

"Just don't get fruit," Lance told her in an undertone.

Abby laughed, saluting. "Nothing that requires peeling," she promised.

Lance picked up a plate, asking questioningly, "You hungry or what?"

Abby grinned, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Lead and I shall follow."

"Don't give him a big head," Justin joked, taking up a position on the opposite side of the buffet.

"Know the dangers of that, do you, Curly?" Lance inquired.

"Yes," Justin replied serenely.

Abby shook her head. "I can't believe I'm with you people."

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

JC jogged across the stage, spinning in circles with his arms flung wide before stopping abruptly and taking up the stanza he was supposed to be singing.

Lance sat on one of the band's risers, watching Chris and Joe pace back and forth, making faces at each other as they crossed paths. Justin squatted at the front of the stage, singing and flirting periodically with some of the girls residing in the front row.

Lance yawned as the music stopped for an adjustment, twisting his neck to relieve the tension as he pondered what else he had to do in the next week.

He blinked, straightening slightly as he watched Paul escort Abby down the center aisle.

Justin stopped flirting. "Hey, Abs, whatcha doing here?"

"Got bored," was her reply. "Not much going on of interest on the Net. So I decided to come here and be bored. You all are mildly more entertaining at times."

"Gee, thanks. You want up?"

"I don't care." Justin grabbed her hands and pulled her onto the stage next to him. Abby stretched and asked, "Where's Lance?"

He smiled. "Here, why?"

She smiled wryly. "Because I can count on you being sitting down most of the time."

"It's safe. Walk, don't run," Justin instructed.

"Yes, Mommy," she muttered, walking towards him.

Lance frowned. "Are you calling me a slug? And why are you limping?" he asked, continuing to talk so she could find him.

Abby shrugged and sat down next to him, heaving a small sigh of relief.

"You said it, I didn't. I twisted my knee getting out of the shower. Discovered too late that the rug didn't have rubber backing."

His frown deepened. "Sure you didn't do anything else?"

Abby stretched out her legs, tanned from the sun, and rubbed her right knee. "Nah, just twisted it a little. It's going to be a pain for a few days, then it'll be fine."

"Maybe you should have stayed in the room and rested." He watched her raise an eyebrow and backtracked. "But you know best."

He smiled as she laughed softly, careful not to disturb sound check as Justin warmed up for the next song.

"Good call, Scoop. What--"

"Guys? Let's get an ear monitor check, okay?" one of the techs called.

He heaved a dramatic sigh. "Duty calls. What are you doing tonight, Miss Abby? You coming to the afterparty with us?" He briefly wished she would say yes, but knew what her answer would be.

"Nope. Loud music on top of screaming gives me a headache," she smiled slightly to soften the refusal.

"Does that mean you'll grace us with your presence at the concert tonight?" he asked.

Abby nodded royally before ruining the effect with a grin. "For a short while," she condescended stuffily. "Until I can't listen to the ten-year-olds scream for a piece of--"

"Abby," he warned with a laugh.

Her brows arched behind the mirrored lenses. "What?"

"Never mind," he shook his head as the tech called for him specifically. "Stay. Don't wander off."

"First I was a child, now I'm a dog, thanks a lot," she called after him dryly.

"You're cuter than Busta, though," he teased, turning around to walk backwards towards the pit.

"Wow, I'll just take your word on that one," Abby pretended to fan herself. "I just got complimented by the great Lance Bass. Pardon me while I hyperventilate," she chuckled.

"Call if you need CPR," he offered with a grin as she snorted and shook her head.

"Lance, quit flirting with Abs and help us finish sound check," Chris ordered.

Lance turned around so fast he nearly got whiplash. "What?" he asked.

Then turned around again as he heard Abby go into a fit of laughter, falling backwards on the riser.

"Joey, you owe me twenty bucks!" she called, still laughing.

Lance narrowed his eyes on the other man. "What?"

Joey was shaking his head. "Man," he muttered.

Lance looked back at Abby. "Well?"

She struggled upright, tucking escaping strands of hair behind her ear and grinning. "I told Joey it wouldn't take much for me to bring out the man of action," she started laughing again. "Should have believed me, superdork."

"Man of--" Lance spun around to glare at Joey. "You suck."

Joey grinned and stuck his tongue out. "You suck," he countered.

"What are you basing this on?" Lance demanded. "You two are the ones who are betting on messing with my head."

He hopped down into the technician's pit, shaking his head. He looked up at Abby as she climbed carefully to the edge of the stage, hanging her legs over the side.

She offered him a sweet smile that made his heart pick up. "I'm sorry, Lance. I couldn't resist when Joey mentioned it. Forgive me?"

He eyed her, knowing everyone in the vicinity was grinning their fool head off.

"Yeah, whatever, I'm used to it," he mumbled, adjusting the earpiece and turning towards the soundboard.

His friends were shaking their heads. "Man, that's harsh," Justin reproved.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"Am I supposed to start crying now?" Abby asked the air woefully.

He sighed, slapping his forehead as his friends began to chant for him to relent.

He walked toward her, stopping next to her legs. His shoulders cleared the stage. "Okay, I'm here. What else am I supposed to say?" he asked, trying not to laugh at her exaggerated pout.

A smile brightened her face. "Nothing, just the fact that you came," she began tearfully.

He shook his head. "You've been hanging around the others too much."

"Well, duh, I live with them," Abby drawled.

"If all you're going to do is abuse me," he started.

"No!" Abby grabbed his shoulder. "A hug makes it all better, right?"

He inhaled the scent of flowers and rainwater. "I thought you didn't like hugs?"

She shrugged. "Gotten used to them. Well?"

He crossed his arms. "I suppose."

There was collective 'awww' from behind them as Abby leaned down slightly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing gently.

"Lance?" she asked curiously.

"What?" he managed, fighting the urge to be dizzy.

She rubbed his hair affectionately, leaning back up. "Easiest twenty bucks I ever made."

She was gone by the time she finished the statement as their audience broke into whistling laughter.

"I'll get you back!" he warned ominously, hearing her tinkling laughter in reply.

He marched over to the waiting group, sending them a silencing look. "Not one peep."

They looked back at him innocently, facing the sound tech as Lance lined up with them.

"Peep."

"Peep."

"Peep, peep."

Lance groaned. "You all suck."

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

"Score!" Justin yelped softly, and Lance glanced over at him, stifling a laugh lest he startle his friend into losing his precarious balance, the chair he was in tilted back on two legs.

Justin tossed a basketball from one hand to another, eyes glued to the screen in the venue's breakroom as he watched the game on the TV in the corner.

Lance returned his attention to the laptop screen in front of him, hitting the button to send yet another e-mail reply on its way.

"Hey," Chris greeted, flipping a chair around to straddle as he sat down opposite Lance.

Justin mumbled a greeting. Lance shook his head. "Hey, man, what's up?"

"Not much."

Lance grinned as he watched Chris start to snap his fingers, bobbing his knees restlessly.

"Where's Busta?" he asked, returning his gaze to the screen as he clicked on another e-mail.

Chris shrugged. "Asleep. Taking a nap with Abs, as a matter of fact."

Lance raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really?" he glanced up to meet Chris's amused gaze.

"Yeah, tired?" Chris inquired innocently.

Lance rolled his eyes in resignation. "Knew you couldn't resist," he muttered, resolutely turning his gaze back to the screen.

"Resist what? All I asked was if you were tired," Chris complained.

"Yeah, uh-huh, right," Lance agreed, beginning to type another message.

Chris sighed dramatically when he realized Lance wouldn't reply further, and bounced up, heading for the table of fruit and other snacks set up buffet style against the wall.

"Are you scared that she would say no?" Justin's voice snapped him out of his concentration.

Lance sighed, giving up, and turned to gaze at the younger man. "Justin, you're my friend, but--"

Justin tore his stare from the TV. "Is the question that hard to answer?" he asked stubbornly.

Lance threw his hands in the air. "What, exactly, do you want me to say?" he demanded. "If you're asking whether I'd ask her out, the answer would have to be no. She's blind, J. And while that doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot to me, it does to her, and since I'm not completely sure myself, then how am I supposed to convince her otherwise? She'd know, and she would hate me."

He fell silent, mildly stunned by his own outburst. Justin blinked, then snapped his mouth closed.

"Then you admit it?"

Lance sighed, slumping down in his chair. "I'm not admitting anything. I don't know. I'm just saying one thing on the matter, and then I don't want to hear anything else about it."

"What's that?" Justin asked warily.

"I'm not pursuing anything. I'm doing my best to be friends with her. Don't sabotage me, please, Justin."

"Lance--"

"He's right, J. Unless you're going to hound Abs too, leave it alone," Chris agreed, having walked up silently behind them.

Justin grimaced, then nodded. "Sorry, man," he mumbled. "I just wanted you to be--"

Lance shrugged, looking at him closely. "Happy?" Justin nodded and shrugged. "You have a girlfriend at any given moment. Are you happy?" he asked glumly.

Justin frowned. "It's not the same thing. I'm talking more like Chris or JC. That's you. You like having the steady thing. You're that kind of guy."

Lance shook his head, his own confused thoughts jumping around in his mind. "Maybe I do. But the point is I can't right now." The thought mildly depressed him. It was true; he liked having a steady girlfriend. Loved having someone to be close with, to share things with. But his life wouldn't allow it.

"Wow, I know I'm the slave-driver, but do you all have to look depressed when I enter the room?" JC asked, puzzled, and sat down next to Chris. "Can't I get some false enthusiasm, at least?"

"Yay," Justin muttered.

"Whoo-hah," Chris tacked on, tossing a grape at him.

JC raised his eyebrows. "Why the sad faces?"

Lance shook his head abruptly. "No reason. Just a serious conversation."

Chris grinned. "Yeah, see, we're over it. Why are you here?"

JC shrugged, letting the subject drop. "We have about fifteen before we have to go get ready. Abs is asleep, Joey's chatting up some chick in the hall. I was bored, so I came looking for you."

"Awww, we were your third choice? I feel so special," Chris sniffled, and beamed proudly.

JC grinned, turning to watch the game. "No, actually, Lance was my third choice, then Justin, then you."

"I'll remember that when it's time for me to make out my will."

"Are you donating your brain to science too?" Justin asked absently, chuckling as he spun the ball on his finger.

"What use would they have for that? I'd recommend just donating your body," Lance murmured, trying not to laugh.

Chris threw a cubed piece of cheese at him. "Thanks a lot. This is what I get for helping you."

Lance bit his lip. "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," he snickered.

JC looked back and forth between them, raising his brows. "If this is going to get kinky, I'm out of here."

Chris hooked a foot around the chair leg and dumped JC on the floor.

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

"Move! Go, guys!" JC hollered as they scrambled backstage, tugging the white jackets over their sweaty heads.

Lance caught the towel Justin tossed to him, throwing it over his head as they sprinted toward the back doors, the screams of the crowd still thrumming through the building.

They burst out into the muggy night air, the rumbling engine of the bus no competition for the people in the venue.

Lonnie called them off as they rushed past him. Lance was last, and he looked back as he made a beeline for the bus. "Abby on?" he yelled.

"Yes!" someone replied as staff milled around the back entrance, hurrying to pack up the loose equipment.

He bounded up onto the steps as Mike called out his name, the doors hissing shut behind him, and then collapsed onto the nearest free space.

The bus heaved into motion, lumbering down the graveled road.

He looked up as a gentle finger poked him in the back. "Whatcha want, Abby?" he asked, watching as she continued down the aisle, poking the others until they grunted.

"Just making sure you're still alive," she called back with a laugh, opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. He smiled, struggling upright as she walked back over and handed him the icy bottle.

"What's this?"

"Your reward for actually speaking," she grinned, sitting down beside him.

He chuckled, leaning back and holding the bottle against his forehead with a sigh of relief.

"My savior," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"If I could interrupt the mutual adoration society--" Justin began dryly.

"No," Abby told him sweetly, looking over as he struggled to his feet and staggered towards the fridge.

He snorted. "I feel loved."

"We could let you off the bus so your fans can comfort you," Chris offered with a snicker, looking up briefly from his face-down position on the table.

Lance laughed at the horrified expression on the younger man's face.

Chris nodded, wiggling his eyebrows. "Who's your daddy?" he drawled.

JC looked up from his deep breathing. "Next you're going to start spanking something," he chuckled.

There was a beat of silence. "Don't even think about it," Justin warned with a laugh.

Chris stuck his lower lip out, shoving Joey out of the seat and stumbling towards the back drunkenly as the bus weaved slightly.

"Are you all still planning on going out tonight?" Abby asked suddenly.

Justin nodded slowly, looking around. "Yeah, Joe, Chris, and I will. Jace? Lance?" he looked at them questioningly.

"Yeah, I'm not too tired," JC mumbled, and Justin rolled his eyes slightly.

"Okay, Lance?"

He glanced at Abby's pensive face. "I dunno. You want some company tonight?" he asked softly, hoping she would say yes. Clubbing didn't hold that much appeal at the moment.

Abby looked up with a sudden smile. "Nah. You all need a break. We haven't stayed anywhere long enough for you to go out clubbing in almost a week. I just wondered if you had the energy after all that."

"Oh, yeah, we'll be wide awake for another few hours just from adrenaline," Joey popped to his feet, snapping his fingers and going to the front to ask the driver how long it would be.

"Yeah, at least." Justin rubbed the towel over his head, then tossed it at Abby, who made a face and shoved it off her lap with a finger as Justin fled the kitchen.

"Ew," she grimaced. "Testosterone."

"What?" JC chuckled.

"Testosterone. It has a smell," Abby explained patiently.

"Really?" Lance asked, amused.

Abby nodded. "Really. Everything has a smell. It's how I identify people and things without hearing them."

"Like what?" he asked, curious.

Abby paused, brow wrinkling. "I dunno. Everything. Everything can be associated with a smell. What they say about your other senses getting more sensitive when you lose one is true. But sometimes I wish it weren't."

She looked so forlorn that he leaned forward, concerned. "What? What's wrong?"

Abby grimaced. "Cause y'all stink to high heaven. Whew."

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

"No, thanks!" Lance yelled, watching as the young woman disappeared into the throng of people.

"Here," Chris set a drink in front of him, sinking down opposite and raising a brow as Lance mouthed his thanks.

"We're at a club. Do you plan on dancing? Talking? Having a good time? Anything?"

Lance shrugged, pushing the drink around on the table disinterestedly. "Just not in a party mood tonight. More tired than I thought, I guess."

Chris eyed him quietly, then nodded. "Then why don't you clear out and head back to the hotel? Take an early night."

Lance hesitated. "If you're trying--"

Chris held up a hand. "No. I backed you up with Justin. Besides, I've decided that I'm not going to do that to Abs."

Lance paused, frowning. "Somehow, I feel as if I've been insulted," he grumbled.

Chris grinned cheerfully. "You have. But in the nicest way. Go home, Scoop. Don't stay if it's just wasting your time."

"Are you sure?" Lance looked out at the crowd uncertainly. "We're all supposed to stay and mingle--"

Chris waved a hand. "Nah, Justin and Joe and I will make sure they'll never miss you."

Lance looked down at his hands. JC's girlfriend had called right before they reached the club, and he'd faded into a quiet corner to talk with her, if he even stayed at the club.

"Go," Chris urged again as another rock anthem blasted out of the speakers, "Check on Abs and make sure she's alright, though, would you?" he tacked on casually.

Lance nodded automatically. "Yeah, I always--I'll do that," he agreed.

"Okay. Later, man," Chris waved, smiling casually until Lance was halfway across the club. Then he dropped his hand and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Please don't send me to Hell for lying through my teeth--it's for a good cause," he muttered before picking up his drink and merging with the crowd again.

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

Abby hummed softly along with the Chopin playing on the radio, sighing out a breath into the cooler night air as she leaned against the cold, slightly rough stone of the balcony wall.

She closed her eyes, the memory creeping back.

Abby sniffed, then gulped, raising her hands and wiping the wetness from her cheeks with brisk motions.

"I miss you, Daddy," she murmured. Loneliness dogged her tonight, even though she was used to the five guys taking off to go to an afterparty or clubbing after a show if they weren't too tired.

Though she would occasionally listen to a concert, enjoying it as much as possible until the screaming gave her a headache, she categorically refused to go to a club. The very idea secretly frightened her. The noise and crush of people confused her senses too easily, turning her around in her own mind until she didn't know where she was going or where she had come from.

For once, Justin and the others hadn't argued with her on her decision, accepting that if they wanted to have fun, she would have to stay behind. After some initial coaxing, they'd given up. Abby shook her head with a slight smile, the smile fading as nostalgia tugged at her again.

If she closed her eyes, she could see her parents still, fuzzy and distant with time, but she could still see them with her grandparents and uncle. And if she concentrated hard enough, she could conjure up an image of Sunny as she imagined her to be.

She wrapped her arms around her middle to still the trembling she could feel radiating up her insides at the memories. Wetness filled her eyes, a sad smile turning up her mouth at the legacy she'd been left. She'd lost her sight, but not the ability to cry. Sometimes she wished she had.

Abby sighed shakily, the temptation of the self-pitying tears strangely strong tonight. She rested her palms on the chilly stone, letting the breeze dry the tears as they slipped out. It was coming closer; she could feel it, had been feeling it for some time.

Creeping ever closer. A crossroads of a sort. A decision to be made. Where she wanted to go. Because she'd been stagnating, at least until Sunny's illness had started a whole chain of events into progression. She had found herself shoved down a completely different path, allowing her to see the other side of the coin from what she'd been living.

But the fork in the road loomed ahead of her, in the figurative sense, though she couldn't tell yet what it would be about, only dreading that her life might change yet again. She didn't want to change anymore, but the leaden feeling in the pit of her stomach told her it was coming anyway.

Goosebumps broke out across her arms and shoulders, chasing down her spine, and she shivered, reaching up to loosen the heavy cloak of her hair for warmth.

She shivered again before the thick strands settled around her shoulders and back, tilting her face up again to the night. And wondered achingly if there were stars shining down on her.

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

Lance waved his bodyguard on, slipping the key to the suite in the lock and opening the door as he checked his watch.

12:47 a.m.

He peeked into the sitting room curiously, squinting as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark. It was deathly silent, and worry twinged in his stomach.

He took a breath and held it, listening for a moment, just in case, and relaxed as he heard soft strains of music.

Highly curious, Lance slipped inside the suite, closing the door behind him and throwing his light jacket onto the nearest chair before toeing off his shoes. He followed the boxed symphony towards the small balcony, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stepped to the open doorway.

Abby was standing at the wall, her back to him. She was dressed for bed in a tank top and pajama pants, and her hair was down, reaching almost to her hips as her head tipped back, her profile silvered in starlight.

He swallowed hard as he watched Abby sway gently to the music, humming softly. For once, she seemed unaware of the presence of another person, and Lance watched, fascinated, as she spread her arms, her bare feet moving gracefully through a simple waltz, her body in rhythm to the classical music pouring from the radio.

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

Abby opened her eyes, the memory fading. Funny, she'd forgotten how she used to sneak down--

A soft sound from behind her made her whirl around, dropping her arms abruptly.

"Hey, Abby," a deep, slow drawl greeted her.

Lance. She relaxed, then blushed slightly. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked with a sigh.

A soft chuckle. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

She looked towards him warily. "What secret would that be?"

"That you can dance."

She felt her face burn. "No, I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I--"

"I can do this forever, you know," Lance informed her casually, amused. "I live with three perpetual adolescents."

Abby groaned softly, tilting her head as he approached. "This spot taken?"

He was tired, and something was bothering him, she could hear it. His scent washed over her, a mixture of soap and cologne and clean, and the smoky tinge of the club.

"It's a free wall," she shrugged, turning around as he came to stand next to her.

"It's late. Why were you out here?" he asked softly, the direction of his voice telling her he was facing the sky.

Abby shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. This is better than lying in bed staring at nothing. At least I can stare at nothing and know it's probably a nice view."

Her dry statement hung in the air for a moment.

"Do you resent it?" came the softer question.

"Resent being blind?" Abby directed her gaze toward him briefly before leaning against the wall, drawing in deep lungfuls of cool air. "Sometimes. But why waste your time ranting at something you can't ever change? I have better things to do with my time."

"But you get frustrated."

She shrugged. "Everyone gets frustrated with something. This is mine. And I've learned to adjust." She smiled slightly. "At the time, it was a good thing."

"What?" he sounded shocked, and she laughed softly.

"My uncle died right before I went blind. I'd been having awful headaches for a long time, and I went downhill quickly soon afterwards. When he died, I came close to letting go myself." She sighed, frowning as the memories crowded back. "But the upheaval of all the doctors and tests and worry helped to distract me from my uncle's death. If I couldn't focus on losing him, I couldn't get sucked into those emotions."

She pushed her hair over her shoulder, her frown deepening. "It's easy to forget…" she murmured.

"To forget what?"

"All the little details. All I have are my memories, and if I forget, they're gone forever." A chill chased over her, and she shivered, frightened by the thought of losing more pieces of those she'd already lost.

"Abby?" Lance asked, and she tried to smile.

"My father taught me to dance," she changed the subject abruptly, her sensitive ears catching the strain of a familiar symphony. She paced over to the radio, sinking down in front of it as she listened.

"How old were you?"

She closed her eyes, smiling. "Eight. I barely reached his belt buckle. But I'd seen him and Mama dance, and wanted him to show me." Her voice quieted. "I can still remember how graceful I felt, how grown-up."

"You don't dance anymore, though." The words were a statement more than a question.

She shook her head. "I can't."

"But--"

"I can't. To dance, you have to be coordinated enough to follow your partner. I'm not."

There was a moment of silence. "You're kidding, right? Abby, you're one of the most graceful people I've ever seen."

She could feel warmth filling her cheeks. "Not hardly. I can walk upright, that's about it," she muttered. She turned her head as Lance walked over to crouch beside her, her muscles tensing slightly.

"If I can learn to dance, anyone can learn to dance," he informed her, the music growing louder.

Nerves fluttered in the pit of her stomach. She could almost follow his train of thought.

"I think I'm going to go to bed now," she announced as casually as possible.

A soft chuckle. "Chicken."

She stiffened. "What? Am not," she denied. "I happen to be tired."

Lance clucked. "Now you're a liar too. Abby, Abby." She could hear him shaking his head and glared at him, standing abruptly.

"Shut up, Poofoo."

"You've been with us how long and that's the best you can come back with?"

He was teasing her and enjoying it. Abby resisted the urge to let her own lips twitch, firmly squashing any laughter by reminding herself what he was trying to do.

"Damn straight. You guys are pretty lame, but it works."

"What are you so afraid of? Don't worry, I'm not doing any of our choreography. This is stuff I learned a long time ago," he promised.

Abby sighed heavily. "Lance, I can't," she half-pleaded.

"Why?"

"Because…because I can't," she finished lamely.

"No one's here--" Lance paused slightly, sounding odd, before clearing his throat. "No one's here but us. No one's going to see you. All you have to do is follow my lead. Simple."

Abby rubbed her face with her damp palms. "Lance, I'm not any good at dancing. I've tried. I simply can't--"

"Do you trust me?"

She stopped talking abruptly. "What?"

"I--" Lance fumbled, sounding flustered. "Abby, did you ever think it wasn't a matter of coordination, but of trust?"

I don't trust anyone the little voice informed her. Abby blinked and ducked her head. "I dunno--"

"Because you can't see, you have to allow someone else to take control. And you don't like to do that. Do you trust anyone, Abby?"

Abby opened her mouth, but no words came out. She digested the strain of disappointment and frustration in Lance's voice with something akin to fear. And she wasn't sure why.

"It's not you. It's not any of you," she assured him, confused. "It's me. It's just the way I am."

"Bull," Lance snorted. "You can do anything you want to do. I won't force you to do anything, Abby. But the offers stands."

Her heart was pounding, and she forced a smile. "And people thought I was moody."

Lance sighed. "I learned from the best," he shot back, then sighed again. "Sorry, Abby, I'm just off tonight."

He was going to drop it and leave, and the words left her mouth before she could rethink them. "No, wait. I thought you were going to teach me?"

Lance was silent. "I thought you didn't want to try."

She took a breath, dread swirling in her stomach. "I promised I'd try," she mumbled. "But just remember that you've been warned. You won't laugh?" she asked, a woeful note creeping in.

"I won't laugh," Lance promised, laughter in his voice.

She made a face, standing reluctantly. "How about sue for lost work, pain, and psychological suffering when I break every bone in both your feet?"

Lance laughed outright. "Why do you think I'm doing this?" he deadpanned.

"That's what I thought," she sighed, brushing her pants down as she stood. "Okay, what now?"

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

"Okay, what now?"

His mouth opened, slowly beginning to realize that he'd painted himself into a corner. "Umm…"

Abby raised her brows, a smile twitching her lips. "The great businessman doesn't have a plan?" she asked innocently.

"Hush." He smiled, wondering how he'd gotten himself into this. You need to learn when to shut up. "I've been taught, but it's been a long time since I've tried to teach anyone."

"Not to mention someone who's blind," Abby suddenly smiled, seemingly enjoying his discomfort greatly.

"Not to mention," he agreed dryly.

"Well, you've committed now, haven't you?"

He tried not to laugh at the gleeful expression on her face. "I don't remember signing a contract for this."

"You word is your bond, and it's too late to take it back now," she reminded him, well-satisfied.

He rolled his eyes, relaxing gratefully. She didn't know how much the joking was going to help him get through this.

"Only blood and spit is binding," he defended, then winced.

"Spit?" her face wrinkled in the dim light. "Ew. How is spit binding?"

"You spit on your hands and shake. That's how guys do it," he explained quickly.

Her grimace deepened, and he chuckled. "No wonder boys have cooties."

"Cooties?" he asked, amused. "No, cooties can't live past the fifth grade."

"I beg to differ," Abby stated huffily. "You just can't see them past the fifth grade. All the hormones get in the way. But they're still there."

Lance bit his lip. "Oh, really. Then I guess you won't want to risk catching them." He made a move to go back into the suite, and Abby sidestepped to get in front of him.

"Uh-uh. I've grown immune. You're not getting away that easily."

"Oh, I see. I'm not getting away easily. Gotcha, " he agreed, laughing at the mildly perturbed expression on her face.

Abby crossed her arms. "Fine, fine. Yes, you're so smart. Can we get this show on the road?" she asked grumpily.

Lance resisted the urge to laugh even more, deeply grateful that they were back to the easy, if slightly rocky, teasing friendship.

"Okay, since you asked so nicely," he agreed.

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

Abby straightened, dropping her arms as Lance entered her personal space. Her chest tightened in automatic response, and she fought the urge to back away.

Abby took deep breaths, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.

"Abby?" Lance paused, puzzled, and she tried to smile.

"What? You're the teacher here, are you asking me for advice?"

Lance snorted. "First order of business, no comments from the peanut gallery. Second order, relax and open your arms."

She stuck her tongue out to hide the immediate urge to flee. Open your arms. Slowly, she untensed her shoulders and lifted her arms. Abby waited a beat, then raised a brow.

"If you're contemplating something Chris-like, please refrain," she asked dryly.

Lance made a soft sound of amusement. "I'm trying to figure out what you look like, but we'll worry about that later."

"Thank you," she told him with saccharine sweetness, her internal worries growing exponentially with the feeling of vulnerability. She choked off that line of thinking. Trust. Such an easy word, and such a hard action.

She sucked in a shuddery breath as his warmth surrounded her. Larger hands were placed palm to palm with hers, curling around them securely.

"Dancing is a little like hugging. And then you just go with the rhythm," he told her softly, his voice dropping a register.

Abby nodded jerkily, drawing in breaths that smelled like Lance. It comforted her enough to allow him to pull her hands up to the center of his chest. Under the heavy bone and muscle, she could feel the reassuring thunder of his heartbeat.

Her eyes widened as he pressed her hands to his chest with one of his own, a subtle, but effective caging action as his right hand settled at the curve of her waist.

Her back tensed up, the heat of his hand radiating through the thin material of her tank top.

"Abby?"

Her teeth gritted. "I can't help it," she muttered. "Just ignore it."

"I don't want to--"

"For once, this has everything to do with being blind," she interrupted. She stared up into the darkness that his face occupied, her throat tightening.

"It's hard for me to accept being touched by something I can't see," she explained softly. "That's why I was uncomfortable with hugging. But if I can do that, I can do this. Just ignore it, please?"

"Do you want to be touched?" he asked, troubled.

She was thankful for the darkness, which hid the heat in her cheeks.

"Everyone wants to be touched," she murmured. "People don't understand. It was never that I didn't want to be touched. They didn't want to touch me. They shied away from my blindness like a contagious disease. And once you get used to that, you become a little--jumpy, or even callous to being touched," she finished sadly.

"No, you aren't," Lance told her, voice rough. "But if you ever don't want to be hugged, say something."

A genuine smile curved her mouth. "The spontaneous affection is nice. No one has included me like that since my uncle died."

"Well, let's hope you don't get sick of it. Especially anytime soon," Lance spoke dryly.

Her eyes widened. "Is that a hint that I've stalled long enough?" she asked weakly.

"Yup. The others might begin to wonder when we're still standing out here come morning."

Abby took a deep breath, suddenly becoming aware that Lance's hands were still trapping her. But she'd relaxed. I can do this. It's not that hard.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Abby half-smiled. "Okay?"

Lance snorted, and took a breath of his own. "Okay, how about we try it this way--I'll try to tell you everything I do before I do it so I don't startle you, and you don't argue with me?"

Abby made a face. "I don't argue--"

Lance cleared his throat.

Abby paused.

"Agreed."

"Good girl."

Abby opened her mouth.

"Ahem."

Abby closed her mouth and smiled sweetly.

She stood patiently for several seconds before asking, "Well?"

"Shhh, I'm listening," Lance hushed.

Abby tilted her head, her ears having followed the music subconsciously the whole time. A symphony she didn't recognize was playing, a little too fast for dancing at the speed she needed. She smiled wryly, waiting silently for Lance to decide to start.

She began to mentally review the items of business she had to accomplish the next day, or rather, that day. She started to zone out, slipping into 'business mode', then her mind jerked to attention as Lance began to hum softly.

He didn't even seem aware of what he was doing, but she was. Abby's eyes widened slowly with wonder as she felt the vibration of his voice through her fingertips and palms, still pressed securely against his chest.

Subconsciously, she slowly blocked everything else out of her senses, focusing intently on the feel of soft cotton beneath her fingers, the heat of another person warm against her palms. It was alien and fascinating all at once. The sensations of touching another person with any real intimacy were vague memories, buried with her parents and finally her uncle. She had little to no experience with it beyond puberty, especially with members of the opposite sex. They had shied away from her with more predictability than any stranger on the street.

She'd become accustomed to the hugs and brief gestures of affection from everyone around her on the tour. But much of the time none of them ever stood still long enough for her to absorb what was happening. Except for Justin, but she'd never actually thought about it with him. Touching him was like touching Anna or Ray. Or Sunny.

She'd never been distracted by the scent of him. Or felt as if her fingers were tingling just from touching him.

And the fact that she suddenly was now was unnerving. Abby swallowed as quietly as possible, her stomach fluttering strangely. But this is Lance. He's just like Justin.

Lance's hand suddenly shifted, moving to her lower back. Drawing her closer.

"Ready?"

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she felt and heard the quiet rumble of his voice, and words wouldn't move past her constricted vocal cords. Abby nodded jerkily, her muscles inexorably stiffening up.

"Just try to follow my steps, okay? We'll worry about our hands later."

That meant her hands remained on his chest beneath one of his own, only his hand at her lower back guiding her. It was meant to make her more comfortable, she realized distantly. To make her feel less trapped.

Abby took a quick, short breath as Lance's chest expanded beneath her palms, then vibrated gently as he continued humming, the song slower and more dreamy.

His body moved with the first step, and Abby was rattled enough to follow instinctively, her focus jumping rapidly between what he was doing and what she was feeling.

Abby stumbled with the second step, subconsciously fighting the inexplicable desire to get closer rather than keep her distance.

Then the third and fourth, her movements jerky and lacking any sort of grace.

"C'mon, Abby. Relax," Lance encouraged softly, "I won't let you fall."

His hand rubbed her tense back, and she felt her muscles twitch. She lost her balance as Lance turned slightly, grabbing handfuls of his shirt in damp hands as she fell against him, her personal space all but obliterated.

Lance stopped, his hands at her waist to steady her, and Abby backed up, her senses bombarding her with powerful images. Everyone but the one which would give her the perspective on her world that she needed to do this.

Tears of frustration filled her eyes. Her heart was racing, and she stiffened her arms to gain space, the foreign sensation of having someone in front of her whom she couldn't see strangling her breath anew. Her hands curled into fists against Lance's shoulders.

"Abby? Abby, don't cry," Lance begged worriedly.

She blinked quickly to rid herself of the tell-tale moisture. "I'm not," she mumbled huskily.

"Bull. Abby, what's wrong?"

"I can't do this," she mumbled again, praying he would relent and these odd feelings would go away, the result of her own natural hypersensitivity and fatigue.

"Yes, you can," came the gentle reply. "The only things you can't do are those things you say you can't. You just have to believe in yourself."

She bit back the urge to laugh, shaking her head. "It doesn't work that way. I can't--the urge to back away is overwhelming, Lance," she whispered.

"Why?" there was a thread of hurt in his voice, but also a need to understand.

Abby sighed, feeling the grip of his hands lighten with a mixture of disappointment and relief. "It's sort of--sort of like standing in the middle of a dark room and having someone touch you. Knowing someone's standing directly in front of me, but I can't see them--it really--unsettles me. It's not you--I--" The last was a lie, and she knew it. And that was more disturbing than anything else.

Lance was silent, and she held her breath, deliberately divorcing herself from the images her senses insisted on feeding her.

"What if we tried it a different way?"

Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. "A different way?" she echoed weakly. She'd never realized how stubborn Lance could be.

"Yeah--"

Abby shook her head. "Why? I mean, I don't have any reason to learn," she began desperately.

"Other than to dance?" Lance answered dryly. "What about conquering your fears? About knowing that--"

Abby groaned softly, cutting him off. "And you say I'm stubborn," she muttered.

There was a pause of surprised silence. "Yeah, I guess so," he admitted slowly. "You shouldn't go through life avoiding something that frightens you. You should do it, if only to prove to yourself that you can."

The feelings were slowly muting, and she released a short breath of relief. She shook her head again. "Sir Lance-alot, rescuing me from my own problems," she murmured without thinking, amused at herself for being touched by his intense concern. "Why can't you just rescue the princess, kiss her, and live happily ever after?" She paused abruptly, thrown by her own statement, and blushed profusely.

"I--don't I have to slay the dragon before I can rescue the princess?" Lance asked softly, thankfully avoiding her words.

A sad smile curved her lips. "Who says? What did the dragon ever do to you? Why can't you just sneak the princess out while he's sleeping, and then no one has to die?"

"But what if the dragon comes back for her again?" Lance countered.

Abby was silent, at a loss for words and suddenly, extremely aware of the thinly disguised metaphor they were using.

"I guess that's the princess's problem," she returned quietly.

Lance made a sound somewhere between frustration and amusement. "What about making friends with the dragon?" he proposed. "We'll sneak around him, and come up in a non-threatening manner."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Abby asked warily, then squeaked as Lance's hands found her fists, clasping them and twirling her around gently.

"What are you--"

"This might be easier. I'm not in your face, and it might even be simpler to teach this way since I'll have more control. It's like teaching someone to hit a baseball."

"Hit a baseball?" she echoed, trying to reorient herself.

"Yeah. Your father ever teach you how to hit a baseball? You get behind the person and show them the motions of swinging until they get the hang of it."

Abby frowned, snippets of vague memory filling her head. "Yeah," she murmured slowly.

"Are you willing to try?"

Abby closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Now that he was no longer directly in front of her, she was, indeed, more comfortable. That's what it was. An aberration. A figment of your own overactive emotions. And she didn't want to leave quite yet. Aloneness was hard to accept again once you knew what you were missing.

"Okay," she agreed softly.

"Good girl," Lance told her approvingly.

She refrained from snorting.

"Here we go," Lance murmured.

She nodded, turning her head slightly as he came up behind her, closing the space between them again.

His hands closed around hers, bringing both of their arms up and around her, where his hands released hers to wrap around her in a backwards hug, crossing her waist lightly. After a brief hesitation, she settled her hands on his bare forearms.

"Okay, now just relax. Don't concentrate on what you're doing, just follow, okay?"

She nodded uncertainly.

"Abby?"

"What?" she mumbled.

"Relax." Faint humor threaded his voice. "Just--just follow like you would with Sunny. She wouldn't let you get hurt, and I won't either. My arms are around you, so you won't fall. And don't get uptight if you step on my feet or trip. Relax."

She managed a weak smile. "I'll try, Lance. You lead, and I'll follow."

Lance shifted behind her, and Abby glanced behind herself, confused as his whole body bounced in place.

"What are you doing?"

Lance settled. "Took off my socks."

A soft laugh escaped her. The idea of Lance being barefoot was strangely comforting, making the situation feel less surreal.

Some urge made her shift her own foot, though, just to check.

Lance sucked in a breath, jumping slightly. "Holy--your feet are cold, Abby."

She chuckled. "I've been out here for awhile."

"On second thought, don't step on my feet."

She grinned, relaxing.

"That's it," Lance encouraged, moving closer yet.

Abby took a calming breath as her back was blanketed in warmth.

"Now close your eyes and listen to the music," Lance whispered quietly.

Abby closed her eyes, knowing the act would work subconsciously even if it had no real purpose. She forced her ears to focus on the music. Violins and piano filled her head, a gentle rhythm of sound.

"Now I'm going to guide your steps with mine. Just go with it," Lance's crooning voice blended with the music.

She jerked slightly with the first solid movement of his legs behind her own, and felt his arms tighten marginally.

"Move with me, Abby."

Goosebumps prickled her neck and shoulders in contrast to the heat she could feel across the scant inches separating them, and she squeezed her eyes shut, shoving the feeling away.

Haltingly, she began to follow, her instincts stirring to life to tell her the instant when he shifted.

"That's it. You can do this. I've seen you do it. Just relax and remember," Lance's low voice was breathless.

Abby pressed her lips together, faint excitement bubbling inside her as her steps slowly smoothed out, following the simple box step Lance led.

"Lance?" she murmured.

His arms tightened. "Keep going."

She smiled, eyes closed tightly. Then her eyes snapped open as the strains of music faded briefly, segueing into another. It was different, the piano enriched by a bass and other wind instruments, but she recognized it just the same.

Moonlight Sonata.

Bittersweet pain filled her chest. Her eyes closed. Her parents had loved this song. Her steps faltered slightly, and she barely missed Lance's foot.

"Abby?" His voice was a bare rumble. "What's wrong?"

Abby shook her head. "Nothing," she whispered, drawing away from the pain. What point was there in thinking about the music with hurt in your heart? They loved the song. A smile twisted her mouth. Loved dancing to it.

Abby closed her eyes, relaxing completely. Remembering her father and mother in the candlelit room. She didn't even feel Lance's first split-second stiffening when she closed the distance between them. She slipped into the natural rhythm of the music, resting her head against the center of Lance's chest as their feet swept lazily over the floor.

"Abby?"

Lance's rough voice slipped into her consciousness gradually.

"What?" she asked dreamily.

"Ready to turn?"

She made a wordless assent.

"Do you trust me?"

Abby nodded without thinking. Yes, she trusted him.

Lance's fingers slipped securely around hers across her waist. With the other hand steadying her lower back, he turned her smoothly. A smile turned up her mouth, and she opened her eyes automatically.

Lance pulled her hand into a modified formal position as she drew her hand up to his opposite shoulder.

"Good," he murmured.

Abby closed her eyes again, the memories faint images flitting around the back of her mind as her body continued to follow her commands.

The hand at her back shifted, stroking her hair.

"What are you remembering?" Lance whispered.

She smiled. He always seemed to know. "My parents," she murmured.

"They loved each other a lot."

She nodded.

"You miss them."

"Every day," she answered softly, and felt his hands tighten.

Abby followed instinctively as she was swept in a slow circle.

Lance chuckled. "Good. Don't ever say never."

"I don't know if I'd be able to do it with someone I didn't know," she mumbled, shaking her head, then yawned, blinking with surprise.

His laughter was almost soundless. "Ready for bed?"

Abby shook her head, tightening her own grip. "Not yet," she requested, yawning again.

"You're tired."

"Not yet," she repeated, leaning her forehead against him tiredly as she sometimes did with Justin.

She heard his sigh and smiled faintly as he placed her other hand on his shoulder. Their steps slowed further, and she tentatively rested against him.

"Tell me when, Abby," he murmured, his chest rumbling beneath her ear. Her stomach fluttered again, and she took a careful breath that smelled like Lance. She closed her eyes, determinedly shoving away all the unsettling emotions and concentrating instead on the feeling of simply being held.

"Not yet," she whispered, listening to the thunder of his heart and steady cadence of his breathing. "Not yet.".