A/N: Okay, here we are, for those that read the original short story, 'That's Not How It Happened!' It's much longer, because of needed added details brought on by the first chapter, but since it's familiar, and in two chapters, I'm posting Chapters 2 and 3 as quickly and successively as I can.

Disclaimer: Apparently, the owners won't be making a sequel, so I've made it for them!

Balthazar's eyelids suddenly fluttered, almost at the exact moment that Dave could feel his heart thump again under his desperate palms.

"I had a dream," he said softly, hoarsely, groggily. He was still trying to focus, dulled eyes struggling to stay on the boy's pale face. "You were molesting me, Dave . . . repeatedly."

"That's not how it happened!" Dave awoke with a start, grabbing nearly everyone's attention. Becky was across the stone room, where two twin sick beds had been placed just a few feet apart from each other. Veronica was seated in a chair next to Balthazar, who was the only one not startled by the boy's sudden yell, still out cold. Dave sat bolt upright in the bed, his girlfriend propping pillows for him to rest against, taking the damp washcloth from the comforter. She checked him for fever, then held it back to his forehead, frowning. He studied her face carefully, and realization finally dawned: "We never made it to France, huh?"

"No," Veronica said edgily. "Neither of you made it anywhere."

"You passed out on the eagle," Becky elaborated. "I screamed, and Balthazar called it back."

"Balthazar sent us here on the eagle, retrieved Horvath's cane, and came back here in his car, but he was so drained he collapsed just inside the door."

"We carried both of you down the stairs, and here we are, 12 hours later."

"You're running a high fever from magical exhaustion—" Veronica started to explain, and he finished,

"And Balthazar had the living daylights beat out of him." The man was turned with his back towards him, hair flopped on the pillow, bundled under a comforter. Veronica nodded sadly.

"He has a fever, as well, some broken bones, and bruises all over." She paused, sighing, "My magic is weak because of the Grimhold, so I can't really heal him."

"Shouldn't you be resting, as well, then?"

"I've rested for 1300 years, I've been told. I'm wide awake, but I'm overwhelmed." Dave regarded her carefully, now holding the rag to his own forehead. "I feel helpless."

"And there are hardly any supplies, here," Becky complained. "We need to go shopping."

"Well, I'm awake now—"

"You're not going out while you have a fever," the woman said sternly.

"No," he agreed. "But I can watch Balthazar, and Becky can show you around."

"What about money?" Becky fretted.

"Balthazar always has plenty of cash," he knew. "His wallet'll either be in his coat, or his pants. I'm sure he won't mind." Balthazar's coat, pants, vest, arm warmers, and chain medallion were over the chair Veronica was in, and she rummaged carefully through until she found it, Becky helping her locate the money, and counting it.

"Six hundred dollars," she whistled. "We'll just take five, so you can order in food if we're gone too long. We can get everything with this, including some clothes for Veronica," she enthused, though she was eyeing the woman warily as she put the wallet down on the nightstand between the beds.

"Do you think you have enough magic to alter your clothes more to something Becky's style?" Dave caught on immediately. "I mean, the dress is lovely, but it's a little—"

"Formal?" the woman smiled, eyeing the girl's jeans and boots. Her top remained a purple velvet with a neckline to show off the necklace, but she suddenly had on black jeans, boots, and a duster leather coat shorter but similar to her beloved's.

"Wow," Becky breathed, quickly removing her own jacket and purse from the back of the chair next to Dave's bed, ready to go in seconds.

"Check in every hour on your cell phone," Dave implored as Veronica kissed her sleeping man goodbye.

"Worried about evil sorcerers?" Becky smirked as they kissed casually.

"Just marginally . . . I think everyone's depleted, so now's probably the safest time."

"Remember to rest, David," Veronica commanded, palming his shoulder comfortingly before following Becky out of the room, down the hall, through the expanse, and up the stairs to the door. "Becky?"

"Yes?"

"What's a cell phone?" she wondered right before the door shut. Dave laughed. The women needed a break. They'd been caregivers since last night. Speaking of which:

"Balthazar?" Was the man really asleep? Maybe Veronica had given him something; or Becky, depending on how current or ancient a sleeping potion or painkiller they had around. "Balthazar?" he whispered again, though he wasn't sure why. The man's ears probably were the only part of him that didn't hurt. Well, and maybe one other part, his thoughts raced uncomfortably. It was really bothering him that the man hadn't moved an inch since he had woken up. "I really need to look at you." Preferably naked, and he shook his head, trying to clear the lusty thoughts that had suddenly come out of nowhere.

Laying aside the rag, Dave got up slowly from his bed, walking dizzily over to the far side of Balthazar's, studying the man intently as he finally saw his face, stumbling down into Veronica's chair because he wasn't paying attention. The man's eyelids fluttered slightly. His face had a couple small bruises. His black shirt was wide open, bandages wrapped around his mid to lower chest, and at least partly down both arms, the white showing under the open cuffs. He wasn't exactly tan, but he wasn't that pale, either. Kind of almost son (sorry, sun)-kissed. Or maybe apprentice-kissed. Dave jumped in the chair, shocked and annoyed at himself. Maybe his fever was making him delirious. He honestly didn't feel that bad. And Balthazar had a fever, too? He reached out a hand towards the man's forehead, and it was trembling. From what? Anticipation? Some errant wavy strands of hair were in the way, so he fingered them back as his palm carefully landed on the hot skin, but he nearly jumped out of his own skin as his wrist was clamped by a ringed hand.

"Balthazar?" he cried out, now, not bothering to whisper. The fluttering blue eyes were finally open, but they were cloudy, obviously from pain, but also from something else. Dave tried to pull his wrist back, but the grip was like iron, despite the obviously weakened state of the older sorcerer.

"The last time my forehead was touched, I was possessed by Morgana," he hissed, ignoring the minor detail that he'd done it himself. That didn't mean he needed anyone else doing it, certainly not right now.

"I was just checking to see if you had a fever—"

"I'm badly injured, Dave," he snapped impatiently. "Of course I have a fever."

"Well, I'm not injured, and I have a fever, too," he practically whimpered. Face softening slightly, the man released the wrist suddenly, carefully palming the boy's forehead, Dave leaning his head into the hand with a strange longing.

"Magical exhaustion," he remembered now, slowly removing his hand so the boy wouldn't fall forward. "You nearly fell off the eagle." He paused, "Luckily, you hadn't gone too far." He was almost smiling, now, "You really need to stop scaring Rebecca like that."

"I bet she screamed louder when you fell back off of Drake's penthouse balcony."

"I seriously doubt that," he said darkly, suddenly restless and rolling over to sit up. His ribs burned, and made him cough from the effort.

"I'll help you—"

"No, Dave," he protested as he was reached for, the boy standing. "There's nowhere to grab me that won't hurt."

Oh, I can think of a place, Dave thought wickedly, then visibly shuddered. "Magic—" he tried aloud.

"You'll pass out, and that won't help me," he practically grunted as he struggled upright, letting the boy move the pillows behind him. "No magic, Dave," he ordered, now. "Not until that fever goes away."

"And how long will that take?"

"It's hard to say, but any exertion doesn't help, so sit down and stop hovering." He patted the bed expectantly, but Dave blushed and shook his head, shakily moving back into the chair. The comforter was haphazard by now, the man's toned legs covered by peach fuzz and bandages, and he was wearing black silk boxers. The left ankle and foot were almost as thickly wrapped as his middle, and Dave gaped as Balthazar eyed the cloth suspiciously, almost like he had forgotten about it until now:

"Is your ankle broken?"

"Very," he admitted.

"You were running all over Battery Park with a broken ankle?"

"No."

"Then how – when did that happen?"

"After." He grinned as his apprentice looked like steam was about to come out of his ears.

"Don't get all monosyllabic on me, Master," he grumped now, the man snickering in return. "I want all the details."

"Well, I need to have some fun with this while I can, because Horvath already had his little party with it—" Balthazar started to explain.

"Horvath?" Dave's face was white, now. "Horvath broke your ankle?"

"No, Dave, he did not break my ankle." He was annoyed already, folding his arms and leaning back against the pillows. "I am perfectly capable of breaking my own ankle." Well, at least the boy was getting some color back, now, since he was laughing despite himself.

"Balthazar, finish the story, please," he begged now.

"Then don't interrupt me again," he ordered.

"I promise." The man didn't believe him, but,

"After I got the eagle back with you and Rebecca, Merlin's ring started calling me." He eyed Dave warily, waiting for a smart-aleck remark that didn't come, so, "It couldn't come to me because the three Morganian castors were holding it back, so I had to go get it. The cops were starting to arrive, so I sent everybody here on the eagle, made the Phantom invisible, and headed for the park. The gate was on the other side, so I scaled the fence—I had done it earlier, no problem, but somehow my 'old man shoelaces'," he spat venomously, and Dave nearly jumped. "Somehow," he continued, his voice low, "the laces looped around the top of the fence, and the resistance snapped my ankle." The boy looked sick, definitely not amused, and Balthazar went on: "I disintegrated the shoelace to free myself, and fell on my face in the grass, but I just knew Horvath was there, so I launched myself forward on my right foot, and landed on his cane before he could snatch it up. He was laughing so hard he almost didn't mind losing it. He'd been watching me for a while, knowing I'd eventually lead him to it."

"When I was trying to revive you, he was still out cold by the fence, but when you and Veronica reunited, he was gone," Dave explained apologetically. "I didn't mean to leave you two alone for more than a minute. I was trying to figure out where he had gone, and then Becky showed up, and I forgot everything else. I hung his hat up on the fence."

"I don't know if he had it on or not when I saw him," Balthazar said thoughtfully, scratching at his chin. "Probably the first sign that I was losing it."

"Tell me what happened next, Balthazar," he pleaded.

"He tried to keep me there long enough to end up in a confrontation with the police, but I left, made myself invisible, and drove away in the Phantom. Oh," he suddenly remembered, "he'll be stopping by in a day or two—"

"Are you out of your mind?" Dave shrieked. He already had the answer, but it couldn't hurt to check, especially now. And he's not completely out of his clothes, yet, either. And then his red face fell into his palms.

"Eh," Balthazar shrugged dismissively. "It's not like he doesn't know we're here, Dave. And," he added lightly, "he is powerless."

"Maybe as a sorcerer, but who's to say he won't have a machine gun, or something?" The boy was almost in a full-blown panic, now. "And, did you even set wards, especially after what happened with the daggers?"

"The wards were the last conscious thing I did," he said, smirking. "You should've seen the look on Veronica's face when I tried to get her to do them. You really would've liked it, Dave. She looked at me like I was a flaming idiot."

"Seriously overworked, maybe," Dave countered thoughtfully, definitely not holding the oversight against his master. "Do you have magical exhaustion, too?"

"No; I don't think I've ever had it. It's actually really rare, except under circumstances like magical slavery."

"I could make a joke about that, but I won't."

"Good."

"Don't those itch?" the boy asked now, gesturing at the bandages, Balthazar giving him a look:

"Don't remind me." There was a pitcher of water and two glasses on the nightstand. Just to test himself, the man had the pitcher fill the glasses, which then floated over to him and the boy. "It's not Mountain Dew, but it's more helpful for your fever," he grinned, toasting the glass towards the other, Dave doing the same. "So," he announced suddenly, mischievously, feeling much clearer, "which one of us do you think is hotter?"

Well, thank goodness the boy hadn't sat on the bed, because the mouthful of water that shot from his mouth as he choked would've drenched Balthazar. As it was, the man only got a residual sprinkling as he eyed his apprentice, puzzled and slightly concerned until he got himself under control, coughing out the residue. "I won't say anything else until you've finished," he half-promised, half-commanded, Dave finally draining the glass before it was spirited back to the nightstand, his already there. "Just to clarify," he motioned, carefully picking up two oral thermometers and trying not to laugh, then turning to the boy in frustration: "Will you please sit here? You're too far away, and I'm too injured to keep enchanting things over to you." He patted the bed again, then yanked his hand away so Dave just missed sitting on it, a little too eager to please. He cleared his throat. "Just to clarify," he began again, "I'm curious as to who has the higher temperature: The physically injured sorcerer, or the magically injured sorcerer?"

"You're really bored; aren't you?" was the sudden realization as his master equaled out the starting mercury in the lamplight from the nightstand in the windowless room.

"Shush." They each held a thermometer, slipping them under their tongues at the same time, Balthazar watching the digital clock carefully.

"I did suspect that," he admitted five minutes later, Dave's temperature a full degree higher at 103.

"I actually think you're hotter, but you just have better control."

"Are we talking about the same thing?" the man asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I just mean that you can probably will your temperature lower," he answered quickly, trying not to blush again.

"I think you give me too much credit, Dave." He carefully laid the thermometers back on the nightstand, and motioned to his wallet: "Speaking of which, did our caregivers go on a shopping spree?"

"Food, supplies, and some clothes for Veronica." The boy smiled as his master nodded, "They should be gone all day."

"And this pleases you why, Dave?" he asked pointedly at the conspiratorial look in those milk chocolate eyes.

"Bonding."

"Them, or us?"

"Both."

"Both of them, or both of us?"

"All of us!" he squeaked in exasperation, before realizing the man was pulling his chain, especially since he really wanted him to pull something else, and he went red yet again. Balthazar started to chuckle, and ended up wincing, leaning back harder against the pillows and holding his side. "Did the stuff they gave you wear off?"

"They didn't give me anything, Dave; there's nothing here."

"Becky carries stuff with her—"

"I'm not taking Midol, Dave." And then they were laughing despite themselves.