Hard Drive's POV. Takes place just before YHIL 8.

I can't sleep. Something about facing imminent doom plays hell with people's dreams even if they're superheroes, and if you're a telepath, that means you get your dreams, plus everyone else's. Like I said, I can't sleep. Sometimes when this happens I stretch my mind out as far as I can, searching for... I don't know. Usually I find someone who's awake, like me. The guy who works at the 7-11 near here is good for that. He's a business major, working his way through college. Mostly he thinks about his classes, and when he can get a skiing trip squeezed in. He's not working tonight. The moon shines through my window, casting a bright silver circle on my wall like a bat signal. I can feel most of my team downstairs... though

Monstergirl is asleep in the room next to mine. She's dreaming about ...hunting rabbits down an escalator. I think she's hungry.

Off-Ramp is nowhere near here, but I can feel him, just barely on the threshold of my range, cutting in and out like the sound of a cellophane wrapper blowing along the roadside.

Frostbite is down in the gym. He's frozen the shower room again, turning it into a snow bank to sleep on, and he's dreaming about Bonfire. Amazingly detailed dream... it's the roof of a lodge in midwinter, and Bonfire has melted a depression in the snow for the two of them. The water is somehow staying where it was though, and it feels different to each of-

Oh, no. No, no, no...

Frostbite's not dreaming, he's sharing a dream with Bonfire. Carefully, I work the one dream into two, turning the snow-covered roof into a waterslide for Bonfire, and the hood of a truck for Frostbite. They're still dreaming about each other, but as long as the dreams don't merge, that's at least a minor victory. Frostbite starts noticing details on the truck, and I realize he's making it the same colors as Bonfire's costume. Bonfire, asleep in her bed thirty feet above him, sighs softly and lets the pillow under her cheek become smooth and blue.

This really isn't working.

I get up, and pad downstairs in my socks and PJ's. The living room is in deep shadow, lit only by the blank blue glow of the television. Thunderhead is sprawled out on the couch nearest to me, mouth slightly open, and head at an angle that probably means he'll be hitting the Tylenol tomorrow. Zip Kid is asleep on the next couch over, wrapped in an unzipped 'Power Puff Girls' sleeping bag. She's out cold. Two pizza boxes, a forest of beer bottles and soda cans (and one incongruous toothpaste cap) litter the coffee table.

It takes me a minute to spot Junior, but when I do, I smile. He's asleep on Thunderhead's head, just behind his ear. It looks like Junior was using a thick lock of Thunderhead's hair for a blanket, but it's slipped off. I reach out with careful mental fingers, and tuck the blonde swath back over him. In Junior's dream, his mother closes the window of his room, and asks if he's coming down to dinner or not.

"Thanks, but I'm really in the middle of this," Junior replies, aloud. Thunderhead remains dead to the world. Junior's mother tells him she's making him a sandwich anyway, and gives him a smile before she leaves.

In his dreams, Thunderhead is sitting in front seat of Roadshow, on the passenger's side. Music is blasting out of the speakers. Junior is hanging from the rear-view mirror, sitting on a swing made out of a Popsicle stick and some dental floss. The drummer of Thunderhead's old band is driving, and they're on the highway in the middle of the night. And they're all wearing sunglasses. A ditzy lite-rock song comes on, and Thunderhead tries to change the station, but the dial breaks off in his fingers.

"Dude, this bites," he observes.

I leave them to it, and go into the kitchen.

Aside from the humming of the refrigerator, I'm alone.

I lean against the kitchen counter or a while, and collect my thoughts. Then I fix a glass of milk, find a package of crackers, and head back upstairs. As I pass through the living room, I give Thunderhead the impression that there's a tape in his lap. In his dream, he looks down at the tape to read the label, and shifts his head a little in real life. Not much... not even enough to bother Junior, but now he won't be so stiff when he wakes up. At the door to my room, I run into Monstergirl. Her eyes are dark vertical ellipses, chosen for night vision, and the shadow inside them matches the shadow of her hair.

"Hey," I whisper, "-what are you doing up?" I already know she got up for a midnight snack, but it's polite to ask.

"Feel like sharing those crackers?" she whispers back.

"Sure," I smile.

I always take care of my team.

-