A/N: Not much to say, but the next chapters are going to come together fairly quickly. Let me know what you think!

"Good night! Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,

That I shall say good night 'til it be 'morrow."

Act II, Scene II

Simon felt his cheeks burning so hot he wondered vaguely if they would blister his skin, though not from anger. Rather, from sheer embarrassment. Simon Seville prided himself in keeping his private wants and desires far, far away from his family, friends, and the outside world. The fact that another person, especially Jeanette, had breached that gap had thrown him for a loop.

When the Chipmunks met the Chipettes, they were both singing groups, not bands. But as they got older, the boys were picking up more instruments, while the girls became more developed in their vocals. As a result, they had begun playing together, with Alvin on guitar, Simon on bass, and Theodore on drums. Alvin and Britney fought for the spotlight in the role of singing lead, and Jeanette and Eleanor sang backup vocals. Simon and Theodore helped them occasionally, but most often forgot that Simon was developing into an instrumental artist instead of a vocal one. He had picked up one of the many guitars stowed in the Seville household about a year ago and taught himself how to play. He only liked others seeing a side of him that he was ready to show, and his newfound guitar-playing pastime was not one of them. As soon as he heard Jeanette shut the door just a little sharper than normal, he instantly regretted his tone with her. He began to pace around the room, debating on whether to run after her and apologize, or wait until they had both calmed down to invite her back over. She was his best friend, for Pete's sake. And lately she kept his attention more than normal, for a reason Simon refused to put his finger on. The softness of her hands, the brightness in her eyes as they peeked from behind her favorite faded novel; everything about her seemed to catch his eye, and she wasn't even trying.

Unfortunately, his thoughts were loudly interrupted by the sound of a body slamming against the closed basement door.

Simon flung the door open, and Jeanette's limp body rolled out, her glasses askew. As soon as he saw her unconscious expression and blank eyes, he knew exactly what had happened.

"Her head…" he muttered to himself, feeling his throat beginning to close already. His brain flashed through every medical journal he'd ever read, swirling around concussions and head trauma. He tried to swallow the growing lump in his throat as he checked Jeanette's entire body, starting at her feet. She seemed perfectly fine until he got to her head wound, the large bump forming on the crown of her head from today's accident. The term "Second-impact syndrome" flashed through Simon's head like a siren, a case in which a patient who has suffered from a concussion receives a second blow to the head before the swelling of the brain is allowed to go down. The term "often fatal complication" seemed to brand itself against the lining of Simon's brain as he looked down at his best friend's limp form. She must have fallen while climbing the stairs and hit her head on the steps or door, triggering the concussion.

He scooped Jeanette up immediately, cradling her head in his arms as if she were an infant. As he kicked the door open to ascend the steps, his brain began spinning its wheels. Jeanette's faithful pink-framed glasses were not lying at the top of the stairs where she would have fallen at. Instead, along with the papers and book she had held clutched in her hands, her glasses were on the last step of the staircase, as if Jeanette had never begun climbing them at all. She had no other bruises, no scrapes or gashes. There were no signs of another blow. Simon scooped up her glasses, pressed Jeanette tighter against him, and leaped up the steps.

---

"Dave! DAVE!"

Alvin heard Simon yelling over the blaring of his video game on the TV in the Seville living room. Simon never yelled, unless it was at Alvin.

Suddenly, the door leading from the basement staircase was flung open as Simon barged through the living room, Jeanette limp in his arms.

"Simon?! What happened to--?"

"Where's Dave?" Simon snapped, catching Alvin dead in the eyes. "I need to find him now."

"I think he went over to the Millers'. Simon, I—"

Simon was already out the door before Alvin could get a word in. He followed Simon out into the chilly March air, wishing he had grabbed a jacket as soon as the door snapped shut behind him. The girls lived two houses down, so it wasn't a long walk.

"Just tell me what happened to her, Simon." Alvin continued, almost running beside his brother to keep up with his brisk pace. This was so unlike Simon, it was blowing his mind.

"She fell. Hit her head, I'm not sure. She fell down the stairs."

"Coming down?"

"No," Simon snapped, even harsher this time. "Coming up. What does it matter to you anyways where she was going?" Simon rounded on him, almost nose to nose with his brother.

Alvin looked at Jeanette's body wrapped in Simon's arms. He was holding her so tightly against his chest, the strongest man alive wouldn't have stood a chance tearing her away.

Alvin took a deep breath, trying to subdue his temper for his brother's sake. "Calm down, Simon. I just asked. I knew she hadn't been down there for very long."

Simon turned on his heel, pushing the Millers' front door open. Eleanor and Theodore stood over the stove, fixing dinner. Dave was at the kitchen table, working on Ms. Miller's taxes.

"We need to take her to the hospital," Simon blurted out, holding Jeanette tighter to his chest. To Alvin's surprise, Simon's deep voice cracked before he could close his mouth again.

"Jeanette! What on earth?!" Ms. Miller rushed over to Jeanette, but Simon wasn't letting go of her.

"She fell and hit her head today at school, and something happened when she left the lab; she fell back down the stairs on her way out and…I…I'm not sure what happened." Simon never took his eyes off Jeanette as Alvin watched him searching her motionless body, as if looking for more damage done.

Something had happened down there; Jeanette and Simon usually stayed cooped up in that old basement for hours. Alvin was always surprised to find them genuinely working down there, never a hot-and-heavy moment between them. He and Britney had always figured there were mutual feelings stored away somewhere, though Simon and Jeanette were the only ones that didn't realize it. They were totally oblivious to each other's emotions. Though now, Alvin thought, Simon's were shining through.

---

In the ER waiting room, Simon tossed his glasses into his lap for the thousandth time, rubbing his bloodshot eyes against his palms, every time getting a whiff of Jeanette's smell. Whether it was her perfume, shampoo, or what have you, the smell was glued to his hands and chest from where he had held Jeanette's limp body cradled in his tight embrace for ten minutes to the latest hospital.

Theodore sat a few seats down from him, watching Eleanor as she knitted fervently next to him, trying to keep her hands busy. Miss Miller was outside in the hall, pacing back and forth as she slurped her fourth cup of coffee, which he was afraid to see the consequences of later. Dave sat quietly across from him, trying to meet Simon's gaze every few moments. But Simon avoided his eyes, not wanting to see the questions and pity hidden there. He was already trying to push the image of Jeanette's lifeless body scattered on the basement floor out of his mind.

But more importantly, he was trying to look around at anything he could keep his attention on, not only to pull his mind off of Jeanette, but to push aside the sentence from one of his many medical textbooks that was throbbing into his brain:

"Concussion victims…trauma-induced coma can be triggered by high pressure situations or highly emotional situations….in Second-Impact Trauma victims…brain damage or even fatality from severe swelling of the brain…"

His fault. This was all his fault. Before he knew it, Simon was leaping to his feet, pacing around the room like Miss Miller. He was trying so hard to control his speeding heart and labored breathing that he fled out of the room, slamming into the door to the stairwell and flying down it.

A/N: R&R!