(Ace comes in with Mickey Mouse ears on head, humming the song from the "Carousel of Progress" ride at Magic Kingdom while twirling a "Twilight Zone: Tower of Terror" dog tag necklace, and playing with an Epcot Golf Ball key-chain. Near is perched on Sherlock's lap playing with her hair, Matt is on a couch sitting on Mello's lap while he traces patterns on the redhead's skin, and Simon is playing Mario Kart against Matt while sprawled across an armchair.)

Near: (gasp) You went to Disney and didn't take me??? (Sniffle)

Ace: Yeah. Sorry Near.

Near: I've never been. (Sniffles again)

Sherlock: I'll take you sometime soon, 'kay?

Near: Okay, Sherlock.

Simon: (calls over shoulder while playing) Run while you can!

Ace: What do you mean?

Sherlock: Your writing is horrible about us, and you're holding out on the poor readers! I mean, you're writing chapter 15 right now, but you've only published to ten? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!

Ace: Um, I haven't published ten yet, and I'm actually on more like 17 since I wrote a couple of random stuff I'm gonna publish later.

Sherlock: Mello, would you do me the honors since you lost the bet? She did write more than 15, ha!

(Mello sighs and gives me a patented "Death Glare".)

Ace: (Screaming) Okay, okay, I'll publish ten right now! Happy?

Sherlock: And eleven?

Ace: Soon. Right, Matt?

Matt: Yeah, sure, whatever.

(Sherlock gives "Death Glare". Ace runs and hides behind Simon.)


Chapter Ten: Wounds Of The Past In The Present Day

(present day)

Everyone was focused on me. I closed my eyes, feeling very self-conscious. The whip-like wound on my back, sides, and pelvis throbbed slightly, but I ignored it. It was a part of me now, an unpleasant part, but a part all the same.

"Well, it's obvious to me what you have to do," Simon announced, pushing me off him and standing up.

"And that would be?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbows.

"Isn't it obvious? You need to go back to both of your old homes!" He looked at me triumphantly, a goofy smile on his face.

I blew up. "Whammy's, yes, but Ground Zero? No, no, no, no, NO!" I yelled, fists clenched in the comforter.

"'Liv- Sherlock," he said, reaching for me.

"I think you should go now," I muttered, my jaw tight. "I'll call you when I'm ready to go in, okay?"

If Simon had a tail, it would have been drooping right about now. "When you're ready, I'll be there." He walked out the door. A moment later, Mello left too, pulling Matt along behind him, who managed a wave before he was yanked away.

Near got up and sat behind me. I slowly pushed myself upright, and he crawled into my lap. He'd grown since the last time he'd done that, so he had to bend a good bit to hide himself in my hair like he used to. He still, much to my relief, weighed about the same. "Is it really that bad?" he murmured in my ear. His breath ghosted over the skin of my neck, making me shiver.

"What are you talking about?" I gasped, feeling breathless because of him. I'd taken a good long trip down memory lane, remembering our on-again, off-again but mostly off relationship. We'd just had a good four years of off, but now I felt like we were on. In all honesty, even though Simon's reappearance after nine years threw me, I hoped we were on again.

"Your home home. Is it really that bad?"

"Yes."

"There aren't any happy memories?"

I shook my head. "Not anymore."

"Nothing worth laughing at? You haven't really laughed like you used to," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes that made me nervous and turned me on at the same time.

"Not that I can recall," I said nervously. Then I shrugged, seeing where he was going. Might as well beat him to the punch. You know what they say: offense is the best defense.

I tackled him on the bed and started tickling him. He yelped and tried slapping me away. "Dang it, am I really that obvious?"

I grinned impishly. "No. I just know you way too well." He growled and flipped me over. "Ah, stop!" I giggled, squirming underneath him.

"Nope."

"Mercy, mercy!" I yelped. He grinned and stopped, leaving his hands on my sides. His legs were around my waist, and our faces were flushed from laughing. "Happy now?"

"Not really," he whispered, a pain lanced through his voice. I didn't think about what I did next. I just did it.

I yanked Near down by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. He moaned, pressing himself closer. Our breathing came in gasps, and our bodies tangled together. My fingers began plucking at his shirt of their own accord, wanting to feel him quiver under my hands.

Pain lanced though my gut. I gasped and pushed him away. "Sherlock?" he murmured, confused as to why I had suddenly stopped after my complete surrender.

"It's nothing." I smiled at him and pulled him down much more cautiously. The doctors had said everything could regrow if I was lucky, and I had had enough bad luck over the course of my life to deserve some good luck now. It couldn't have reached the worst-case scenario. That would be nearly impossible; I mean, the cording hadn't cut me that deeply.

"What's wrong, Sherlock? You aren't as into it as you were a few minutes ago."

"I told you, it's nothing, just some old scars."

"Ones from the explosion?"

"Well, one in particular, but I'm fine now."

He eyed me skeptically. "Pain in old scars generally is a sign of complications. Let me take a look at it."

I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting him to tell me what I feared. "Do you have some kind of doctors' training I don't know about?"

"No, but I should say I know more than you do, Sher."

"Fine," I grouched, knowing he wouldn't stop until he'd seen. And trust me, he was going to see a lot more of me than he'd been think he would. I untied the sleeve straps of my corset, dropping them to the floor before I added the silver corset itself too. My silver skort was the last thing to join the pile, leaving me practically naked in his gaze. I stretched out on the bed, baring my back for his inspection.

"Oh God, Sherlock," he gasped, unable to believe his eyes. I knew what he was seeing all too well. Long white feathery scars laced their way seductively down my back and upper legs. It was hard to imagine one person had gotten all of them at the same time from flaming-hot pieces of metal and various other debris.

"Yeah. Now you know the real reason why I never wore cut-off or sleeveless shirts. Or a proper bathing suit top, for that matter." I pulled up my hair, revealing another scar on the back of my neck, a small white circle. I brushed my hair down onto the side, feeling strangely self-conscious about showing him that one. "And furthermore, the reason I grew my hair out and refused to let anyone cut it."

"Other than L."

I shrugged. "He knew. No one else did, and I was afraid of what they would say. To tell the truth, I'm still-" I clamped my mouth shut, horrified that I had been about to say the words I'm still afraid of what you might say.

Near, however, being the smart little genius I knew and loved, understood what I'd been about to say. "Relax," he murmured, gently kissing me on the little dot, "You're still perfectly beautiful with or without your scars hidden."

"Near-"

"And no, I'm not just saying that because you're almost naked," he said. I felt his lips tilt up in a smile as he lightly pressed a hand in between my shoulder blades and felt the slightly raised dusting of past injuries. "Now, which one is the one that was bothering you earlier?"

"Um, this one." I pressed my hand to one scar that started halfway down my lower back. His fingers began feeling their way down its length. The two of us blushed as he traced the lowest point, lower than my hips, and back up and around to the raised points right between my hipbones.

"Good Lord, Sherlock, you should really get these tested," he said as he explored the large upraised ends.

"I know, but I don't want to go alone."

"Why not ask Matt? Mello will probably be happy to know he'll be out of their apartment for a change."

I turned around and smiled at Near. "Great idea! I'll go over and ask him in the morning. But first," I said, a glint in my eyes as I kissed him again with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. I pressed my body against his, wanting to get as close to him as I could. He pushed me down against the pillows and began leaning down towards me, but suddenly, he pushed himself away.

"Sherlock, get dressed," he growled, facing away from me stiffly. "We aren't doing this tonight."

I blinked in surprise but kissed his cheek briefly before hopping down to obey him. Concern for me was the only thing stopping him tonight, but that would soon be gone, leaving us free to do both what we so desperately wanted to do and what he seemed slightly afraid to do. But one day, I would chase away that fear and make him mine, someday soon...


Ace: Happy now, Sherlock?

Sherlock: No.

Ace: Fine. How about I try to put up at least one chapter every day next week while I'm on Spring Break?

Sherlock: Better. Mells, if you would.

Mello: (exasperated sigh) Please review because they give me the power to defeat Sherlock at bets, and get better from butter knife wounds, and all that good crap. (Matt pats him on the head) I'm not a dog, you!

(Matt screams and runs out of the room, chased by an angry Mello. Near is playing with Ace's Mickey Mouse Ears, and Sherlock is watching the chaos while Simon beats Matt at the abandoned game.)

Ace: (sighs and puts hand on forehead) Thanks for reading and please take Mello seriously. He really does gain the power to beat Sherlock at bets if you review. It also makes Matt get better at Mario Kart; Simon's actually pretty good, so normally he beats Matt.