Night had fallen, the view outside the lone window inky. I didn't see a need to actually fall asleep, as I had been sleeping a good portion of that day, but my eyelids were heavy and my eyes were hot. I was vaguely aware of the other people in the room. Alison was as close to sleep as I was, though not yet floating, which made Everett a happy person, even though he was just as tired as she was. I had to know if this "oversynching" business had brought them closer together -- what was their status now, and would Jubilee have cause to be upset? (It seemed no secret she had a crush on Everett. Perhaps it was more obvious to me because of my empathy, but she wasn't exactly subtle by nature.) Bobby had nodded off, himself, in that uncomfortable chair he'd claimed as his own. How anyone could sleep in that thing was beyond me. I hadn't had the opportunity to sit in it myself, because I'd been trapped in this blasted hospital-style bed for half the day, though I wasn't exactly holding my breath for the chance to test it.

Jono was still here. Just ... here. He'd dropped my hand long ago, and I hadn't reached for his again. He was hard to read, despite whatever improvements had been made regarding that situation, likely because my fatigue clouded my end of the link. I thought I heard a bit of confusion, but that was natural lately. We had all been confused regarding at least one thing or another. He seemed almost ... like he felt he was obligated to stay here with me.

I sighed -- partly because of that emotion, and partly because I was so tired myself. My throat still hurt. And the general mood could be summed up in the word "here". Nobody was really doing anything, yet nobody had the simple common sense to complain about it, perhaps because we were all tired.

Except Jono. I wasn't reading any sort of fatigue from him ... he didn't sleep, either?

(*Not usually,*) he explained, exuding a strong ~boredom~.

I had to agree with his emotional sentiment, though. /What time is it?/ I wondered absently, though intentionally sending the thought along.

(*No idea.*)

He hadn't even checked. It didn't matter, though. Not much did. I shrugged and pulled the thin sheet around me, turning over. It was time to sleep now, I decided. I had nothing better to do, and it was getting late.

Everett, not quite asleep but almost there, led Alison out of the room I was confined to, turning off the light on his way out. Darkness filled my head, and just before my eyes could adjust to the new conditions, I closed them so I might not have to deal with trying to sleep in a room that was only dim instead of pitch black.

The sleep I sought didn't come as easily as I hoped it would. I tried to concentrate on my breathing in hopes of dulling my thoughts and boring myself to sleep, but all that came from that effort was an increased knowledge of the pain I felt in my throat that was slowly traveling up the back of my nose. I was also finding it hard to breathe, because of the simple fact that my nose was quite effectively clogged. Breathing through my mouth only increased the sting, but I had to deal with it. I turned over onto my back, staring at the tiles that lined the ceiling. They were the sort you'd find in a basement or school building, a white that had turned grey in the dim lighting of the room, though peppered with black specks. I considered counting these specks but decided against it. The resting Bobby I could have sworn was in the awful chair had inexplicably vanished. Had he ever been there in the first place? I didn't know.

/I can't sleep,/ I broadcast instead.

(*I don't know wot ter tell you,*) came the psionic reply, colored with a dry sort of frustration and even more boredom.

I started counting the specks in the ceiling tile. One, two, three, four ...

... thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one ...

... a hundred seventy-two, a hundred seventy-three, a hundred seventy-four ...

... three sixty-five, three sixty-six, three sixty-seven ...

... eight hundred one ... or was it eight hundred two? I'd lost count. I actually considered striking up a mental/empathic conversation with Jono, but all I heard from him was a fuzzy sort of white noise. So he did sleep. I sighed and began counting dots in the ceiling tile again, but by now they were too blurry and my eyes were too strained to see that far.

I sighed, turned and kneeled in the bed to face the pillows I'd been laying on, fluffed them, turned back over and sighed again. I still couldn't breathe. And I most certainly could not sleep.

I reached out to the main part of medlab, beyond the room I was in, to check for sensations of people awake -- and was soon gifted with an incredible headache, not to mention the lingering ignorance of whether anyone else was up or not. This was certainly turning out to be a joy. I ran through the entire cast lists of seaQuest, Babylon 5, all the Star Treks, Earth 2, Space: Above & Beyond, Sliders, and all the recurring guest stars of X-Files, matching each actor's name with their proper character name and once that was exhausted, thought of more interesting ways Paige would kill me if she ever found out about the link. I played each scenario out in my head, each definitive battle until one of us was dead -- for there could only be one. (My personal favorite was the scenario in which she accidentally Husked into a pile of Alpha-Bits which was soon eaten by a passing Little Red Girl (tm).) In a similar vein, each of her transformations became progressively weirder. I'll not even start on the six-foot ferret she became.

I was fairly certain I stood in someone's room -- or I was floating above it, I wasn't exactly sure. A soft silken quality permeated the unusually pastel room, like a watercolour wash had been administered to the scene before my eyes. A gentle velvet sunlight poured through a window that seemed to take up an entire wall. Delicate piano music played on an old phonograph set up in an almost hidden corner. Light and shadows blended nearly inexplicably together until I couldn't separate one from the other, nor could I separate the pale, subdued colours the bedroom was decorated in.

A laughing blonde girl sat on the wide bed, telephone in hand, shoes and socks kicked off in a pile near the door. I knew I was the person she was speaking to on the phone, though I couldn't hear her words. A second -- transition --

I knelt beside the night table, hands resting gently on the bed before her. She smiled and hung up the phone, so glad to see me and took my hands in hers. She leaned in towards me and gently whispered words into my ear that I heard but couldn't seem to listen to. Her breath was soft and I knew that this was -- I was only an observer in this world, and I couldn't help my actions because I knew they weren't mine. I was simply riding behind someone else's eyes. She sat back on her heels and looked at me with sparkling blue eyes, and I knew she was the picture of beautiful.

She wanted me. She wanted me right then and there, without a moment's hesitation. There seemed no logical reason for me to hold back, and I looped one strong arm about her neck, leaning towards her with every intention of kissing her full on the lips. My attention, however, was divided between this radiant beauty I held and the phonograph playing its steady piano music. The music was only intended as background noise, a constant soundtrack to the love I felt for her, but cobwebs had gathered around the antique record player and the notes were turning erratic and sour. I wanted to tell her about the phonograph, but she only pulled me closer to her. I tore myself away from her and vaulted across the room with a sudden urgency. Something was wrong with the phonograph. Something was --

-- a pain in my throat. A queasy, sick feeling had firmly lodged itself in my stomach as though I were about to throw up. The -- yes, the dim room in the corner of the expansive medlab; the dim, private room. I was -- I sat up, propping my pillows behind me -- a furious chill seemed to freeze my very bones. My teeth chattered relentlessly against one another, pounding an angry staccato inside my skull. A sharp pain shot inexplicably through my jaw and around the back of my head. I inhaled cold air and it did nothing to alleviate the sting in my throat -- no, I realized so suddenly -- it wasn't the air around me that was cold. I didn't think it was the air around me that was cold. If it was "just me", then I likely had a fever, and I most certainly did not want or need a fever right now. I put one palm to my own forehead and felt nothing different, but the chill coursed through me instead of around me and I felt --

Had Bobby done something he'd regret later? There was no sign of ice or even water but I had heard the man actually generated cold itself.

No, though ... Bobby's mental signature remained outside the room, sleeping fuzzily just beyond the doorway with the others. The chair he'd occupied was quite vacant. Jono was the room's only other inhabitant besides myself, and I doubted he was to blame for the sudden drop in temperature. My teeth chattered again and the sharp ache in my jaw intensified. My hand instantly went to the pain, but touching it did nothing to help the situation.

The pressure in the back of my head had more to do with the change in pressure that had brought the overnight rain that now fell softly outside, thrumming in chaotic patterns on the roof overhead, than it had to do with anything else.

Vaguely, I wondered what time it was. My watch was elsewhere, and nobody ever bothered to place clocks in sequestered sections of medlab.

(*Close to three.*)

Jono's response startled me; I hadn't expected him to be awake.

(* 'adn't expected you t' be awake, either.*) Jono stood and ambled towards where I sat, holding some dark ambiguous shape out towards me like a peace offering. (*Take it,*) he instructed.

~??~ I shivered in some automatic response to the cold that still penetrated my very being. I drew the thin sheet closer around me in hopes to alleviate at least that part of my suffering.

(*It'll 'elp yer,*) he explained, leaving the heavy gift on the flimsy cover that graced the medlab bed, draped over the lump that was my right leg. Gingerly, bleary-eyed, in so much inexplicable pain and freezing cold, I held a tentative hand out to the donation that weighed more than I'd have expected it to in relation to its size. As my fingers met its surface, I was greeted with the sensation of --

-- leather? His jacket?

With hands held instinctively close to my sides in reaction to the frigid temperature, I unfolded it. Yes. His jacket. I didn't -- I couldn't -- it was his jacket.

(*You're the one who's so cold,*) he said. (*Yer need it more'n I do right now.*)

It was like his second skin. I couldn't --

(*Don't be stupid.*)

Well, perhaps I could, but not without feeling extraordinarily guilty. I swung the jacket slowly behind me, to slide first one arm and then the other into the cool blackness, the soft lining brushing against my skin. It hung oddly on my shoulders; I gripped the softly broken-in collar, where the topmost coating was wearing off in patches, and pulled ever so gently downward to adjust the fit. The cuffs were not quite so worn as the collar and fell almost to the second row of knuckles on my hand. It was comfortable, more in the sense that it had gotten a lot of use than in the sense that I actually found comfort in it. I tugged at the collar again, pulling it closer around me and burying my face in the soft leather -- more in an effort to keep warm than anything else. The jacket carried its owner's scent: layers of ozone, like just after it rained, over an oddly earthy current and accented by touches of fog and a vague sense of something burning. It was just as beautiful as he was.

(*Don't give me that 'beautiful' rot, now.*)

/I wasn't asking you./ Wrapping the jacket tightly around me, I turned over again in the bed I seemed to call home now and had every intention of going back to sleep. /But you are beautiful,/ I added just before closing my eyes. Not only was I obligated to, but I was prepared to remind Jono of his inherent beauty every time he insisted on denying it.

I tried desperately to ignore the sharp pain that coursed through my jaw -- it hadn't simply left, as I'd wished it to. I wondered if there was some ibuprofin or something I could take to alleviate that, but doubted swallowing anything would be a good idea what with the soreness in my throat. I dealt with it. I'd had to deal with worse before.

Trying to ignore my various afflictions -- which included the silently grumbling Jono who was simply overflowing with so much self-pity and angst, even now, that I feared it might rub off onto me, which was altogether likely, I listened to the rain fall outside. I wasn't even going to bother with the ceiling tiles again.

The rain soon cleared, though, leaving me with nothing left to listen to aside from my own breathing, which was just ridiculous. One couldn't listen to one's own breathing because one was in perfect control of one's own breathing. At that particular stray thought I received a wayward series of pained, piteous, emotional grumblings from Jono regarding breathing and his considerable lack of talent in that particular area. I certainly didn't want to talk to him now, but I didn't have much of a choice. It was perhaps nearing four and I was still far from sleep.

Jono's emotions now reeked of crabbiness. He'd been sulky before, but never actually crabby -- at least, not to my knowledge.

And I wanted to know what was up with that. ~??~ I was quite obviously concerned, as well, but that carried in more or less an undercurrent than anything else.

~dismissal~repulsion~ Beneath that notion came ~fear~, though, and that piqued my interest even further.

~??~concern~ I wasn't afraid to let my concern through this time.

~dismissal~ even louder than the tiny strain of ~disbelief~ that it carried. (*Leave me alone,*) he instructed. (*I let yer wear me jacket, wot more d'you wont?*)

~exasperation~ He didn't get it. /You didn't have to give me your jacket./

(*But I did. Ennit enough for yer?*)

~sigh~

(*If it's not, then wot d'you wont from me?*)

I tried desperately to block the images and thoughts that poured readily from my subconscious mind into the realm of awareness, to no avail. Most were harmless, like the memories of that day's tea, and other, safe images of something that could only be considered friendship. My mind had fallen prey to the raptor of the late hour, though, and those thoughts I wanted to curb were not only graphic but also impossible, given Jono's current situation. Others were downright mean, particularly to Paige.

~!!~

~sigh~apology~ and a fervent hope he hadn't read all that. Other than the initial shock, however, he gave no indication he had. Thankfully. /That's not what I want from you,/ I attempted to explain, trying to choose my words carefully. /I want -- what there was today. A friend. You helped me when I needed help. I want to be there to do the same for you. Those -- yes, I am attracted to you yet. That much hasn't changed. But the attraction is softening into a friendship that I hope will work./

(*Yer can't be stuck in someone's bloody head and stay "friends" for very long.*)

What the heck was I supposed to read into that?

(*Nothing. Take it for wot it is.*)

/At face value, then./

(*Don't rub it in.*)

Though I caught the pun, I hadn't intended to rub anything in. /I'm going to sleep now,/ I announced. /Goodnight./

Jono offered no response, simply lingered ... here. Turning onto my side, I shifted inside the warmth his donated jacket provided and pulled the pale bedsheet above my shoulders. A gentle sleep was finally beginning to invade my consciousness, allowing my subconscious mind to run rampant and produce more strange and unusual images. Fortunately these were nothing more than harmless dreams, with no embarrassing footage from the camcorder of my wishfully thinking mind.

I woke up feeling very ... cold, and for some reason, very miffed at a certain Mr. Drake. I couldn't really say why, but I had suspicions. Anyway, as soon as I got over the fact that I was cold, I realized that someone's red-socked feet were invading my personal corner. I followed the socks up the long grey legs that they belonged to only to discover that the said feet belonged to none other than Angelo, who was snoring happily halfway across the room. How wonderful.

I moved the feet out of the way before sitting up, rubbing my eyes because I had fallen asleep with my contacts in and now my sight was all fuzzy. Across the room I could hear that someone else was waking up, but in the dim light I couldn't tell who it was.

"Mmf. What time is it?" Oh -- it was Everett. Of course. I glanced at the watch I had neglected to take off. It was exactly 7:36.

"Seven-thirty," I told him, not feeling the need to be exact. "Way too early."

We both groaned at the same time. This was followed by a joint, "Great." I could hear sounds coming from the other room -- it sounded like Jen must be up or something. I decided that she had had quite enough fun with Jono for one night, and that I was going to go in and see how she was, regardless of how she felt about that. I got up, noticing for the first time that it was raining. My stomach tightened involuntarily for a moment before I relaxed, realizing that there was no thunder. Good. Then I could remain a calm, collected person, and I wouldn't freak out. I padded over to the door of Jen's room, noticing as well that I had fallen asleep in my clothes. Ick.

"Morning?" I more asked than stated as I pushed open the door. Jen was there, on the bed, wearing Jono's black leather jacket. How touching. Jono was just sitting there, regarding me quietly. He looked ... crabby? I had never actually imagined him as being crabby. "Hi," I tried, hoping someone would respond.

"Hey," Jen finally answered.

"It's seven-thirty," I told her. "How long do you think we're gonna be down here?"

"Mmf. Don't know."

I sighed. "Well, then ..." I just stood in the doorway uncomfortably, not really wanting to leave but feeling like I should.

Jono apparently sensed the tension and got up, explaining *I'll be ... back,* before going out the door. I had to admit, Jennifer looked the least bit pained at that.

"What's up? How's Everett?" she asked. She sounded as if she was trying to imply something.

"Eh ... still synched," I informed her. "I think he's the only other one up at this point. Angelo is most definitely not up, because he was snoring when I left. He has cool red socks, though...."

She merely raised an eyebrow at that, not even venturing to comment on it. "There's other people in there too, aren't there?" she asked. I nodded. "I can feel ... people. Sleeping."

"Yeah. Well, there's Ev and Bobby and Angelo, and I think I stepped over Jubes to get in here. Going with that, Monet and Paige are probably in there somewhere too."

"And somebody darker."

I just rolled my eyes and sighed; she was hopeless.

"No -- somebody else. I felt it before," she informed me.

This confused me -- who else could there be? "Um ... Penny?" I asked. "She's the only one left."

"I think so."

I noticed that Jen sounded very tired, and was basically really out of it. "Are you ... okay?" I asked. "You sound kind of out of it."

"I didn't sleep much last night. It was cold in here." She pulled the jacket closer. I felt like I was going to throw up.

"Yeah, well ... you were cold?! Who enlisted Bobby to wake me up last night, huh?"

"He offered!!"

I just grumbled in response to that. "Sure."

"My jaw hurts," she whined, changing the subject. Not that there had been a subject anyway, but changing it nonetheless.

"Oh, well ... sorry."

She just made a slight whimpering sound, as if to augment that statement and make me feel even sorrier for her. Not that I should be feeling sorry for her -- she had Jono, after all.

There were a few moments of awkward silence as I glanced around the room. It was dim in there, but not dark. I could still hear the rain, too; I wondered how long it had been raining.

"How close are you and Everett now?" she asked suddenly. That caught me totally off guard -- what was that?!

"Whoa! What?" This was unprecedented. At least, I thought so.

"Since your ... thing. How does it work? Are you guys ... like...?" she trailed off, looking at the floor.

"Um, no? It's just like ... well, getting annoying at this point, I guess. It's kind of like having this radio static in the back of your head, and then I just know what he's going to say even though I think it's my own thought. Or I'll do something thinking I meant to do it, but he meant to, or something ... like that. Yeah," I concluded. "It's not like ... you know. Jono."

She coughed, loudly. That was it -- that sent me into hysterical giggles on the floor.

"What??!!"

I just continued laughing. It was too funny, and I couldn't even say exactly why.

"What's so funny?" she wanted to know as I managed to begin recovering enough to end up in a cross-legged position on the floor, looking up at her sitting on the bed.

"You," I informed her. "You are quite amusing. At least, I think so."

"What?" she asked again. I just shook my head.

"I can't explain it. You're just funny, is all."

"Hmph. I still hurt."

"Pobrecita."

"Uh-huh. So ... what do you need to talk about with me?" I bit my lip. I didn't even know if it was something I could talk about, anyway. I was me, after all. I wasn't like this!

"Well, you did come in here to talk about something."

Great -- she could tell. Or could she? I didn't even know how much she could tell, but since we had been so close for so long, anyway, I had a bad feeling she knew more than I wanted her to know in the first place.

"Um ... Jono?" I offered.

"What about him?" Whoa -- maybe we shouldn't talk about Jono -- she sounded mad. Or bitter. Or something ... not good.

"Well -- nevermind." I didn't want to talk about it now if she was going to get all weird and possessive on me. Especially since she was wearing his jacket.

"No -- what?"

"I don't even know what I want to say, really."

"Then just let the words out."

"Well ... it's like you like Jono and I like Jono and you have Jono and I'm me and I'm not supposed to be like this and I feel bad and this is all weird and it's not fair!"

"I don't have him."

"Yes, you do!! Look at -- you're wearing his jacket, for God's sake!!" She sighed and peeled the thing off, which just made me more exasperated. "Besides, he brought that tea down for you." I crossed my arms.

"Yeah, and he brought apples for Penny. I suppose you're going to get jealous of her, too?" she asked coldly. I sighed.

"No, but ... that's different."

"How's it different?" The jacket was thrown onto the floor. I wanted to pick it up, but didn't.

"It just is. You know that and I know that, so don't argue a moot point."

She sighed and got up to pick up the jacket and hang it on the bedpost before settling herself back in the small nest of sheets she'd made on the bed. I just studied the jacket.

"It's ... how can I explain this?" she began. "It's like ... I can read everything from him now."

"That link thing? Like Jean and Scott?" I interrupted. She sighed.

"I don't know. He ... it's just not like that. Not for him. He stayed here because he felt obligated to; the jacket -- I don't know."

"Well, fine then."

"What?" she asked, sounding hurt. I shook my head.

"Nothing. Fine ... just forget the whole thing." I got up to leave, wondering where I would go, anyway.

"You leaving?" she asked, not coldly. Just asked.

"I guess. I just want to ... go back to bed. Or something. I don't know." My voice was suddenly cold.

"Would you take this back to him?" She took the jacket off the bedpost and offered it to me. Was this a peace offering, or did she just want to make me feel worse? Or was she just lazy and didn't want to get up?

"Um ... yeah. Sure." I took the jacket, wondering where it was that Jono had gone.

"He's just out there," she answered my unvoiced question. Well, she would know. But then again, she might have known anyway.

"Okay." I pushed the door open and went back out into the main room, my eyes adjusting to the brighter pallor of the room after a moment. I looked around to see that Jono had taken up refuge in my corner, and was still looking rather crabby. Whether he was looking at me or through me, I wasn't sure, but since I had his jacket I had to go over there and confront him. That George Jennifer, making me do this! Argh!

I stepped gingerly over first Jubilee and then Angelo -- all of him -- to make my way back to the corner where Jono was. As I approached him, I held out the jacket.

"Here." He reached out and took it, still not really looking at me. Did he look ... hurt? I sighed and, since he was in my corner, after all, sat down on the floor. That seemed to get his attention.

*Wot are you doing?* he asked, surprised.

"Well ... you're in my corner."

*Oh.* Despite my expectation that he would get up and leave, he made no move to do either. Instead he only put his jacket back on and continued sitting there, staring off to a point somewhere over my head.

"Are you ... okay?" I asked, not sure if he would answer me, and, if he did, what he would say. How much of that conversation between me and Jen had he "gotten"?

*Yeah. Fine.* He was obviously not fine. It reminded me of me, actually, and that made the whole thing more uncomfortable. I sighed. I knew that if it were me, I wouldn't want to talk about it. I looked around the room during the silence that followed, noting that Everett had gone back to sleep. Somehow the confirmation of that fact made me even more tired, and I suppressed a rather large yawn.

*Yer know, it's not fair,* he finally said. My head snapped up from the darkness that was beginning to engulf me -- had he actually spoken, or was that something out of one of those visions you get somewhere between awake and asleep?

"What's not?" I asked timidly, hoping that he had actually spoken.

*Yer know ... this link Jennifer set up. It's not fair.* Was he actually talking to me?! About his feelings?! Wow -- maybe she was starting to rub off on him ... which made it all the more unfair, I supposed.

"I guess ... you didn't have a say in it?" I asked. I actually hadn't really stopped to consider that -- I'd thought it was something they'd agreed on, or something like that. A mutual decision. But then I stopped, realizing that Jono probably wouldn't have agreed to something like that.

*Nope,* he said. *She just went right on ahead, not askin' ... you know, I don't exactly take well to people in me head.* I could agree with him there.

"Neither do I," I admitted. "But she just started this thing without asking you? That is unfair. In fact, that sucks. But then again, life sucks sometimes." I thought I detected a soft chuckle from him, but I wasn't sure. Maybe I just amused him by being a dork, like I amused everyone else. That was probably it. Either that or he was thinking about how much his life sucked, or at least how much he thought it did. I knew people who thought it didn't ...

*Yes, it does.*

"Yeah, well ... yours isn't the only life that sucks."

*Oh, I doubt that it is. It's just that ... some "suck" more'n others.*

"You'd be surprised." I brought my knees up to my chest, hugging them and rocking back and forth a bit. I was getting really tired -- which was probably Ev's fault -- but I didn't want to give in to sleep. Not if Jono was actually talking to me.

*Would I, now?* He eyed me, actually looking amused. Interested, maybe. *And how's that, gel?*

I sighed and shook my head. "You know yourself it's something you don't want to talk about. But we all have our problems. And just because you think yours are the worst doesn't mean that they are." Another silence, and I was afraid he'd gone off into space again when he finally spoke.

*Well, if yer want ter see it that way.*

I got the feeling that the conversation, as it was, was over, and finally buried my head back in my knees to allow sleep to reclaim me and take me away from this place where, right now, I felt like I was either a dork or that nobody liked me. Or both.

But sleep would not come, which made me both annoyed as well as made me feel like an even bigger dork. Was there no end to the infinity of dorkiness Jono made me feel? Argh! The guy was incorrigible even when he wasn't doing anything. I sighed heavily, and somehow he got the feeling that I was just feeling ... bad.

*Are you all right, gel?* he asked, for the first time expressing concern about my feelings.

"I don't know," I sighed. "I just..." I trailed off, again not sure of how to tell him what I didn't know how to tell Jennifer. "I guess that I just don't know what to say because I never tell anyone how I feel, so why should I start now? Why shouldn't I just ignore everything and act like I should...?"

*Like yer ... should?*

Yes, like I should. I wasn't like this -- I wasn't mushy, and I didn't get crushes on people. I wasn't supposed to feel this way -- I didn't want to feel this way. Did I? I didn't even know anymore. I wanted to just go back to before, when I didn't feel like this. So confused. Because I was me. I didn't cry at movies, I didn't like guys or think they were "cute," and I most certainly did not get jealous. I didn't like mush or romance, didn't want a boyfriend, and was revolted by love stories and relationships. I wanted to go back to boyfic and football and ... I was supposed to just walk away. I was supposed to give up whatever feelings -- no, I did not have "feelings" for him, did I?! -- I had and stand back, because he was Jennifer's and Jennifer was his and it was better that way. It was normal that way. It was ... right that way.

"I'm just ... not like this. You wouldn't understand. I don't understand." I just wanted to disappear into the floor and go away forever. I was suddenly cold, and I suddenly wanted someone to hold me. I didn't care who -- just someone. Anyone. Why...? "I'm so pathetic..." I whispered to myself.

*Wot's that?* I just buried my head in my knees, refusing to answer. Why couldn't this just end now? This was heck, and I wanted out. *Gel...* he began, but he didn't have the chance to continue -- thank God -- because at that moment, Sean appeared in the doorway.

"Ach, I'm sorry ye all had to spend the night down here, but Ms. Frost apparently had some ... business to take care of. At any rate, ye can all come up now."

I gratefully stood, trying to ignore Jono, who didn't quite know what to do. I felt horrible, because I wanted him to talk to me, but I just couldn't talk to him. He couldn't talk to me. That would mess everything up, and it made me feel even worse. And he was actually going to talk to me, too!! How could this be happening? What had I gotten myself into? I wanted out. Now. But how? How does one escape oneself? It's like the Matchbox 20 song : "It's me, I'm here all the time, and I won't go away..." That was how I felt. How could I go away?

Alison left me alone in the dim room. It wasn't quite dark enough to see my own aura, and I was bored. Experimenting with my powers would only result in augmenting my already pounding headache, and my throat still hurt, the ache still running through my jaw. And it was getting cold in here again. Jono still fed a steady stream of emotion into my brain; perhaps that was what was intensifying the headache. I reasoned he was talking with someone because of the constant fluctuation between different emotions. I hoped it was Alison he was talking to; she'd been guilt-tripping me about supposedly "having" Jono while she didn't. It was hard for her to admit she liked him, and I admired her for finally coming to terms with her feelings.

Still, I couldn't deny that I was very much attracted to him, and having inadvertently established this link certainly put me ahead of her. I couldn't blame her for resenting me. I didn't -- I didn't want this to be a competition, though. It was useless to fight over all of this. Alison and I were good friends, and always had been, and maybe this seems odd, but we didn't really fight much. I certainly didn't want to taint this record over something as trivial as a guy -- even if it was Jono. Besides, he didn't want a relationship with anyone right now.

At least, that's what I figured from his constant depression. At any rate, this whole blasted thing was going around in too many circles. Maybe it would just be better to let Alison "have" him. She wasn't the romantic, type, though ...

... but neither was Jono. I was so confused. This was so petty. So trite. From what I understood, Paige still thought she "had" him, though Jono was no longer interested in her for reasons I was yet unsure of. On top of that, though, he wasn't interested in me or Alison or anyone else, either. I wished everything would just fall into place, very neatly, like at the end of a cheesy sitcom.

Not that I wanted to live in a cheesy sitcom.

A light knock tapped on my door ... at least, I supposed it was now "my" door, now, considering I'd spent the good part of yesterday in here. "Come in," I called as best I could, pained.

The door opened and Monet stepped in, a mission on her mind but also very cloudy, perhaps because she'd just woken up as well. "How are you?" she asked. "Mr. Cassidy suggests you come out if you are feeling better."

Um. Well. "Better" was certainly a relative term. Jono was broadcasting a deflated shade of ~disappointment~ mixed with a quiet ~resent~ and I didn't know why. Given his recent mood, though, it was nothing I would touch with a ten-foot pole. That wasn't what Monet meant, though. "My throat hurts," I informed her, my voice not as crackly as I would've imagined given the pain.

She regarded me with a level gaze, perhaps with what might have been called distaste, like if I hurt why the heck was I telling her? Of course Princess Monet never got sick.

Initially I would return with sarcasm, but I had to choose my words carefully with her. Almost anything I said could and would be used against me. "I might be contagious," I continued, leaving her emotions out of the conversation. I had to deal with her as subjectively as she believed she dealt with everyone else.

"You would not like to come out, then, because you think you will infect others."

Would I, though? What was I in here for, anyway? If it was because I was contagious, why were they even letting other people in here with me? Jono I could understand; he couldn't very well catch a cold or whatever it was I had. Even if it was simply a cold, though, what reason was there to lock me up in medlab?

Princess Monet instantly transformed into Nurse St. Croix, taking decisive strides across the room and placing a palm on my forehead, then turning her hand over. I felt silly.

"You do not have a fever," she informed me. "Come." She turned my single scrawny blanket down and took my wrist, leading me out of the little room. I felt even sillier.

Outside, Jono was sitting in the back corner, again wearing his leather jacket; Alison wasn't far off, cross-legged on the floor emitting a soft ~confusion~. Mr. Cassidy stood near the door, his large frame effectively blocking any form of escape. He simply sparkled the radiance of command and control. His audience, however, was less than attentive. Everett was only barely awake, and the red-socked Angelo whose feet were halfway across the room from the rest of him was only pretending to be awake, having propped himself against a wall. Jubilee hadn't had the audacity for duplicity; she was happily curled up within an old sleeping bag, hugging some tattered stuffed creature close. Paige was nowhere to be found. That same dark presence which could only be Penance still graced medlab, though she was not in sight.

"Good mornin'," Cassidy greeted cheerily. "Again, I'm sorry for havin' te lock ye all down here overnight. If it were up to me ye'd've all remained in yuir rooms."

I imagined the decision had been Emma's.

"Mr. Cassidy, if I may?" Monet offered.

At the instant she dropped my wrist, I immediately sat on the floor in that very spot in which I stood.

"Jubilation and Angelo are still asleep, and Paige is absent," Monet explained.

Thank God for that. At the mention of Paige's name, however, I caught a flash of ~resent~ from Jono. Resent? Why --?

"Wouldn't it be preferable to have everyone awake as well as present?" Monet continued.

"Aye," Mr. Cassidy agreed, "but it doesnae matter. Ms. Frost has finished her business, and ye can all go back upstairs now." The suggestion was easily an order, I was sure. At it, Alison reluctantly rose, followed by Everett. A quiet ~disdain~ seeped from Monet, but she did as told, leaving medlab. Jono didn't move but made no effort to contact me. What was wrong with him? Not that not speaking to me necessarily meant something was wrong, but he was just so ... upset ... over something or another, and he didn't want to talk about it. Perhaps he'd discussed it with Alison. I hoped he just at least got it off his mind, whatever it was.

"Jennifer?"

Eep. "Hm? What?" I snapped to attention at Mr. Cassidy's mention of my name, knowing all too well I'd been staring at Jono again.

"How are ye feelin'?"

I dismissed his question with a non-commital "Fine," knowing full well that I wasn't fine, even though the term was a relative one. Physically, I was better than I had been, though there was still a trace of pain in my throat, but it wasn't anything to be worried about. Besides, Monet had already proven that I wasn't contagious -- and Monet knew everything, right? :P "Um, I'm going to go ... upstairs ... now." Before another word could be uttered, I exited medlab, sure everything would be relatively okay.

Relatively.

Once I returned to the room that had become "mine", I dragged out a clean pair of jeans and my bootleg Tori Amos T-shirt (made with a scanned image of the "Little Earthquakes" CD and an iron-on transfer). I carried these to the bathroom.

I turned the shower as hot as I could possibly stand it, letting the steam rise from the cold porcelain of the tub. That, I reasoned, was probably good for the vestigial sting in my throat. And desperately hot showers were generally good for my mind, too. Hot water was cleansing like music -- and made me feel so much better after apparent sickness, like I could wash the illness from my system so it might never return.

Like I could wash him from my system so he might never return.