Jo sat on the sofa bored out of her wits. The cat that sat as still as a statue in front of the fire had been steadfastly ignoring her attempt to goad it over for some fun and she'd filled all her paper up with half-finished sentences.

"Oh, why me!?" cried Jo to the ceiling.

"Well, you're clearly the only one around that's why."

Jo spun her head around to see her tall visitor smiling curiously at her, "Oh, bless you, Teddy!" and she held out her arms grasping the air like a toddler waiting to be picked up. "Such a sight you are!"

Laurie sauntered over to the crippled girl, pleased with her reaction to his presence, only stopping to peck her forehead. "Such a greeting you give!"

"It's the abandonment; I'm all alone and dying from idleness." Jo quickly told her woes as he made himself comfortable on the same sofa, mindful of her injured legs. Beth was sleeping upstairs and Mr. and Mrs. March had gone house-calling to their poorer friends.

"Dying?"

"Dying." Jo smiled as he took her hands, his eyes checking her over from head to toe.

"Well, it's about time I played 'doctor'." Laurie made a face as though he was resigned to his fate and Jo laughed.

"Wouldn't you rather play 'friend'?" And if Jo had any bit of a flirt in her he would have winked back and made something more out of her request. As it was, he leaned away and made a show of acquiescing.

"Thank you, I would. Doctoring is so much work and you know your boy's all worn out from that study. Do you know, Jo, that some of the fellows have gone straight off to toil?"

She looked at him amusedly, "Is that such a shock?"

"Why yes! Heavens knows why you'd want to miss a few years fun for a head-start in the drudgery. I know I'm not, in fact I plan to make quite good use of my trip."

"Oh don't go off too soon, Teddy," said Jo who felt she would need her him by her side for much longer than appropriate for a neighbourly friend. If Jo had known his words alluded to more than his own fun, she might never have opened her mouth but Laurie was for once very lucky he felt, as the long fingers in his hand held tighter.

"Have no fear, Jo; I'm not going straight away." Careful not to let his dark gaze linger too long on that suspicious face he quickly added, "You've got to mend first so that you'll be able to call after me crying 'Don't go! Don't go! You've forgotten your handkerchief!" He produced one which made Jo laugh and hit him.

"Oh, you are wicked, but after all, you do have a horrible habit of leaving them about," and Jo pulled out two nicely ironed ones from her pocket that he'd given to her on separate occasions.

"Jo, you needent have cleaned them, I was only trying to help." That he had, for the first was when Jo had stepped into a dreadfully deep puddle of mud and the other when baby Daisy had sickened her collar.

"Fiddlesticks! You know very well I could hardly hand them back with that mess."

The two went silent and Jo felt very warm, having become acutely aware of Laurie's hand next to her wrapped leg in the lull of conversation.

"I see the cat will cry, at least." Laurie said, spotting the little beast staring intently at them both.

"Of course he will. He has four good legs."

Jo leaned back, careful not to bump her friend on the head. Her sisters had helped her out into the garden, her legs not completely capable of supporting her tall friend even after a weekdays worth of healing. Jo's cooped up body demanded to feel the grass and Meg quickly complied to avoid a shouting match, making a condition that Laurie should have to watch her when the boy waltzed through the gate.

So when Jo complained of a stiff back, Laurie quickly offered to make them bookends, sitting back to back and she was able to lean back without a chair.

"Don't get too comfortable, Jo. I still have to go home for lunch."

She chuckled a little; sending little shudders up Laurie's back and not just because of her shaking shoulders against his. "Oh yes, Grandfather would have your head for helping your crippled neighbour have a break from that dreadful, stuffy droll house." Jo turned her head to look back at Orchard House. "Never have I felt so happy to be out of home. Excepting of course, clear winter days."

Laurie smiled at her words, nodding because he knew that Jo being Jo could never be caught up. And yet as he sat against the twenty-one year old he couldn't help entertain ideas of being a good enough reason to keep her indoors and to himself.

"I have to get away soon, Jo" Laurie began, his voice quieter than he intended.

"Yes, I know, silly."

"No, Jo." Laurie twisted a bit to look Jo in the eye. "I mean the holiday."

He watched her lower her gaze for a moment. "Oh, yes, of course you do."

There was a long pause where Laurie wished he could tell her he'd planned for her to go with him, but Jo was facing the other way and concentrating on one of the willows, squinting her eyes and pretending the sun too strong.

"I don't suppose you could put it off a little longer?"

Laurie's eyebrows lifted in surprise. He waited for her to look at him until he answered, "I'm sure I could try, Jo. But only since you asked." Then Laurie sighed heavily and put his arms behind his head as though he was reclining whilst leaning against her back. "After all, who wants a holiday when his girl would be desolate without him?"

He quickly hit the ground after that.