On the surface, not much action happens in this chapter- but not all action is directly stated. The criminal atmosphere of Forston is about to change- and a few relationships are still changing. The action will pick up soon. Until then- Trigon's attentions will be kept on his own staff by a most unlikely advisor- and, for now, the Titans have to weather the calm before the storm. Part of the Treatment section was helped very much by dr.evil99 (and congrats to him for finishing his first big chapter project- Paragon of Animals on my favorites list, if you're curious). Here's a final warning for you- this chapter is a monster, length-wise. But, it might not end too badly- happy reading.

Chapter Forty-three: Status Quo, Revised
There was something different in her home that Sunday afternoon, Rachel knew. She wasn't even in the main wing of the house before she noticed that something was wrong. It took her a moment to recognize just what was wrong. It was quiet.

It wasn't completely quiet, of course. The heating vents still purred, cars still pulled into the subterranean garage, and there were still a few muffled yells from the low receiving rooms audible as she took a back stairway. Strange silences were rarely a good sign, in this household. She passed Slade, noting from his posture that he was displeased about something. She didn't bother to ask him what was happening. She and Slade had never gotten along, and she had pulled rank on him. For the moment, at least, they ignored each other. Rachel had her first hint of what was different when she saw Jinx.

Jinx was beaming, and winked at her as she pointed to the kitchen. Bemused, Rachel decided to enter the room. She and Jinx had worked out a few simple just-in-case pieces of body language, to show that not all was right. Jinx had looked genuinely amused, which meant that something interesting was going on. Rachel convinced herself that nothing would surprise her, put her shoulders back, drew a deep breath- and walked into the kitchen to find something she had thought too outrageous to consider a possibility.

Angela Roth remembered what she had been wearing when she met the flirtatious young criminal. She intentionally created the effect again, wearing well-fitting jeans, her old urban cowgirl boots, and a long-sleeved shirt red enough to put a hydrant to shame. Angela had never been the most typical girl in high school, but she had held her own in contesting popularity with the cheerleading crowd. Years ago, a rich suburb of Forston had been known for its horse pasture. Angela had been known for liking horses. She never had one to call her own, and she was too tall to be a jockey.

That had left one job, one that often put her in contact with all the people that came by to bet money on the smaller horse-races. Money that changed hands at amateur races was rarely monitored by law enforcement. That left Angela in charge of the hamburger stand, but she didn't mind. That meant that she rang up each and every customer- and not all of them were hard on the eyes. She gave the politest ones a few tips about the horses that often paid out. One customer in particular was a regular- and, after one amazing run of bets, Trigon had asked her to come watch a race with him. After that day- she had never looked back, until now.

"Mother?" Rachel asked. 'Mom' was still an overly familiar term, but she was trying to get better.

"Good afternoon, Rae- did that husband of mine say when he'd be done collecting from that betting ring? I'm making hamburgers." And she was- Angela opened the oven door to check on the cooking meat before going back to slicing tomatoes and onions. "I know that I've been- different. I just remembered a few things, that's all."

"A few things?" Rachel asked dryly, leaning against the counter.

"Yes. I found a folder, looking through files in the kitchen- of all your report cards, back from kindergarten. Do you know that you have exemplary grades? You have one F total- that's for skipping, in kindergarten. I remember that gym teacher- that old tub of lard couldn't skip if his life depended on it. As for the rest- after second grade, your teachers started marking off 'social development.' Every last teacher wrote that you were too quiet, except when angry, and that you were too clever by far to be amused with elementary busywork. That made me remember why I had forgotten to be a mother for a long time- to save you heartache."

Rachel blinked. That was, without a doubt, the longest speech she had ever heard from her mother. "This seems- this is just so fast."

"I know, honey, but we've been building to this point for a long time," Angela said. "It started because my little girl was unhappy- but you do have friends now."

"You remember Victor, I know." Rachel thought for a minute. "And I know you've met Richard- Richard Grayson. His uncle Bruce Wayne handled our taxes long ago, when you brought me to the office- Richard was very different when he was little."

"What are your friends like now?"

"Victor's steady- even after the car accident, even with a fake leg, he's always reliable. He's dating Jinx. Richard's very mature, and very- oh, I don't know. It's hard to describe him, except that he's overly practical. Kori is just about the opposite of Richard- she's sunny, optimistic, and whimsical."

"That's three," Angela said, finding condiments in the refrigerator. "And someone used up all the mustard- that's the trouble with people forever being in and out of the kitchen. No one ever replaces things that are done. They'll know the numbers of fifty-eight different agents, but not to get another bottle of mustard or jar of pickle relish. We'll certainly manage, though. Trigon only ordered ketchup, every time."

"Well, there's Gar, too. He's- I don't know. He tries to be funny, and he usually isn't, but he's very nice. He's forever there for me, even when I don't want him to be."

Angela kept her opinions to herself, for the moment. "Are you going to see your friends tonight?"

"Well, I planned to, but I could stay-"

"Nonsense," Angela scolded, taking out two napkins and a pair of the gaudiest plates the mismatched cupboards offered. "Your father and I are going to have a talk about the state of affairs in this household. I know that you've been doing a little more- but if you don't like it, there's no reason. Even now- I'm going to establish a few rules for this kitchen, even if I have to live here for a week to enforce them. Drug deals are to be taken care of downstairs, and marijuana does not go in my freezer. We have illegal goods storage rooms."

Rachel blinked again. "Well, yes, but that would require a little common sense."

"I don't completely approve of this business- but it is a living, and it can be much more streamlined. Without even a basic sorting system, who knows how many people snitch off a few spare precious jewels or weapons or narcotics?" Angela explained her point as she found glasses to set on the table. "Trigon and I will have a very long talk tonight, but we'll be done by eleven. I'll wait up, so my daughter and I can have a talk." She smiled at Rachel's apparent shock. "I know, love. This is sudden- but I just realized that I've been letting my baby girl down, and that she needs me."

"You're here to stay, mom?"

"I'll be here for you as long as you need me," Angela said. "This will be hard, Rachel, and I know the plans for your big birthday." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I want you to run, if you have to. This isn't for you, honey- but I fell in love with your father, and it's about time I took an interest in what I got myself into. I made this bed, and I'll lie under the covers. Have a lovely time tonight, darling."

Rachel left for Richard's house after a quick hug, trying to figure out if this was like any dream that she had ever had. Finally, she knew it didn't matter. Who cared for the means? She had her mother back- and for one moment, she didn't need to hide a smile.

.Pronouncements.
Jinx had to share news, even if she had to go without specifics. "Stone- pick up your cell."

"Jinx, you sound- happy," he said warily. He was driving to Richard's house, and Jinx's moods were often connected to odd events.

"My boss's boss- Trigon himself- is about to be less effective for at least a week. He had been avoiding this for a while, but the old controls are back in place. After all, there's only one way to control a big, powerful man in such a high place."

She was close to cackling, he decided. "Is it his wife or mother-in-law?" he asked.

"His wife," Jinx said. "You should see her- I've been waiting around, doing a few small tasks. She's already made a list of how to better run organized crime, right after she made hamburgers."

"Hamburgers?" Victor should have known to expect anything, but that just seemed excessive.

"It's how they met," Jinx explained. "The gang's been worried about her for a long while, since she used to keep him in check before something- well, we don't like talking about that, and we're not sure what happened. Only my boss has details on that, and getting information from one's boss can be tricky."

"Your mysterious boss, eh? What does he have to say about this?"

"He's happy. Trigon will be much busier, and he'll be able to keep track of imports. Once he starts to see profit figures go up, he'll realize just how many people have been stealing from him. Then, he'll start investigating internally, and all non-thieves will have much easier lives." Jinx was very happy with this. "And, as chief underling of Trigon's chief underling, I get easy work for awhile, that doesn't involve field jobs."

"So, Trigon is about to regain the attentions of his wife?"

"Yes, and this means that there shouldn't be too much trouble in town for a while. You're on a break- and I'll make sure to cause some internal trouble around the time of your mom's wedding, just to make sure no one crashes the party to hold it up for jewelry."

"Um- thanks?"

"It'll be my pleasure- some jerk over in accounting has been giving me a hard time, and I know for a fact that he's skimming. I just need to take time to collect enough information." Her voice was tight with anger. "This guy deserves a jail sentence, for what he tried to pull with a few ladies at HIVE. Tia stopped him, but he slithered out to a better place before the HIVE fell."

"You're okay, Jinx?"

"I'll be fine, Victor- stay nice, okay? I know you and the others have a pow-wow tonight- I'd check over by Thirteenth and Oak. A few idiots are considering graffiti, and they might try a mugging or six."

"Thanks, Jinx."

"Anytime, Stone- and no dying on me. I'm in a good mood, and I like having you around. I'll come find you tomorrow- you're free from school, right? I know my boss will find an excuse to spring me, if I need one."

"Right."

"It's a date, then- your place good?"

"It'll be fine, Jinx," he said. Victor wasn't surprised when she hung up quickly. She hated farewells, so she never said them. He was used to that, and he couldn't help but keep part of her good mood with him as he made his way into Richard's house and down the steps. He nearly crashed into Gar.

"Good news?" Gar asked.

"Jinx says that Trigon will be less of a nuisance for awhile- in-house politics shifted," Victor said. "This is straight from her boss- that guy said that things'll be a little less external for a week or so. Someone's straightening up house." Victor allowed himself a smug smile. "And, I have plans tomorrow- Jinx figures that she can take off, so we're going to spend the day together. She has said that her boss is easy-going about this stuff, so I guess I have him to thank."

Rachel tapped Victor on the shoulder. "I hate to interrupt whatever's going on, but you're blocking off the stairs and I'd like to get into the basement."

"You, too?" Gar asked. He clarified when two friends looked puzzled. "You're both in good moods."

"Is there something wrong with that?" Rachel asked as Victor stepped aside.

"No, and I didn't imply that at all."

She looked at Gar for a minute. "You're not in a very good mood."

Victor moved out of the stairway. Richard, for once, was late to practice- and he was arriving with a beaming Kori. Victor looked from one to the other. There was only one known reason he knew of that could make a couple look just that soppy, but he led in easy. "You two certainly look happy."

"We are," Kori said, choosing to not reclaim the arm that wound around Richard.

"Any particular reason?" Gar asked. Kori looked just about ready to burst, so he guessed that they wanted to share.

Kori nudged Richard. "I think that you would proclaim this news better."

"Uh uh, Kori- I think you would be far better at this. Besides- I said it to you, didn't I?"

"All the more reason that you should announce it here," Kori said. "Besides, I am not familiar with the idiomatic expressions appropriate for this situation that are used in this area."

"Kori, if you can manage phrases like 'idiomatic expressions,' I think you're just stalling. Besides, this isn't very hard to say. I managed and only felt like I might have ruined everything for a minute."

"Fine, I'll tell them," Kori said.

Victor watched the two. "You two are obviously going to be flirting for awhile. If we're not leaving for patrol for at least have an hour, I'll leave you two lovebirds to it and call Jinx." He watched Kori's face light up at the syllable- well, this was more serious than he had guessed.

"I think they're in love," Rachel said dryly. Kori and Richard both had forgotten the importance of informing their other friends. Kori did give a thumbs-up before going back to kissing Richard. Rachel watched for a moment as the two maneuvered over to a chair. "I think I'll go somewhere else, now." She was hardly going to admit that she was jealous, or that she wished someone wanted to kiss her.

"Well, there is an advantage- Richard didn't even suggest training," Gar said. "This means that we can stick to logical schedules."

"Do we still have logic left as an option?" Rachel asked. "Victor's obviously leaving this talk to me, for reasons of his own- wait, he's calling Jinx, and I'm the only Titan single enough to have time to get you to open up. Something is bothering you. I'll be friendly and even ask what's wrong, instead of just submitting a request in writing for what's eating you."

"It's nothing, just-"

"If there is an 'it' to be dealt with, 'it' is obviously something. I'm trying to be friendly here. I'm a little out of practice. Don't make me lose my patience."

He shrugged. "I just talked to my mom. The hospital had to reschedule her for tomorrow, since one of the kids in the pediatric oncology ward needs an emergency surgery in the morning that should last clear through the afternoon. My dad's in LA, for a cars conference, and I don't want him to come home early for no good reason."

She pulled two chairs out from the table and sat in one. Something told her this was overly complicated, and that it could be straightened out. "So, what's bothering you?"

"I need a ride over to the hospital tomorrow. Victor's busy, Kori can't drive, and Richard's obviously spending his day with Kori."

"Oh," she said, suddenly uncomfortable. Was she- no, that couldn't be it. Rachel would not let herself feel that from a simple encounter- except that she was hurt. There was nothing wrong with feeling emotions, as long as she didn't show them. "You still need to find a ride for tomorrow, then, since your parents aren't available?"

"Yes."

"If you want me to provide chauffeuring services, I'm not doing anything tomorrow. Even if I was, I still would make time. If you didn't want to ask me, you could call a taxi service and write that off as a medical expense." Rae pushed back from the table. Yes, she was hurt. No, that didn't mean she had to go cry. She could try Richard's method of dealing with frustration. No one else was using the gym, and meditation would only make her focus on what this feeling was. The speedbag would just have to deal with a few injuries. It didn't bruise.

"You- you really would take me?"

"Yes," she said crossly. "I just wish that you'd ask me, instead of listing why everyone else you consider friend or family can't do it. I would assume you're due for chemotherapy, since you haven't shown any signs of a relapse and you're clever enough to not put everyone through that twice. I know that you could be in the hospital for a few hours. If you don't want anyone to go with you, I'll drop you off and pick you up."

"You don't have to."

That was enough. "What is your problem?" she asked. "I am offering to do this. You didn't even have to bring yourself to ask. Do I have to ask you if I can come along or something? I thought we've been over this, Gar. We're friends. Friends help each other. Friends usually enjoy each other's company."

"Maybe I don't want to ask too much of you," he returned. He didn't know why she was so defensive. When he had met her, she had certainly not been Miss Sunshine. He had been lucky to get three non-insults out of her a week. "Sure, we're friends- but we're not exactly typical. Do you really expect the typical to just snap into place and work?"

"Maybe I'd like to try- even if going to chemo with a friend isn't normal, I want to be there for you." She was too frustrated to converse sensibly. She stood and turned away, but not even a few deep breaths could sooth ruffled emotions.

Wait a second- she was mad at him. "Rachel, I don't want to push you. I've been pushing you too far, and I know you like your space. I know that you don't mean every insult you make- but with the amount, a guy can't help but think you wouldn't be thrilled to spend a few hours in his company. I don't want you to do this because it's some obligation. If all else fails, I can sit around the hospital for awhile."

"Maybe I don't know what else to say. You can be just as bad, Garfield Logan. You joke and say something that just might be flirting or a compliment- but you joke so that people like you, and you never stay serious because you're still wary of even committing to friendship. You're not leaving. This city is your home. I can't be the friend you might just remember- I know that you're my friend. I need to know that you believe that you'll stay here."

"You certainly do a number on your friends, Rachel Roth. You purposely hide your moods, you're the most secretive girl I've ever met, and sometimes we drive each other nuts- but, if I ever had to leave- I'd come back, and I only didn't ask because the thought of being rejected is pretty scary. I don't want to move too fast."

"You know I'll say yes," she said, much more quietly. She hadn't realized that she had been yelling, not that anyone else noticed- Victor was still talking to Jinx. "Go on, ask me."

"Rachel, would you like to go to the hospital to be bored out of your wits for an hour or three?"

She shook her head at his way of putting things, but she had an amused cast to her eyes. "Yes. When do I pick you up?" she asked, wondering if this was what people said when agreeing to a date. This wasn't a date, of course. She was taking a friend to chemo. That was not romantic. This was just common courtesy.

"Um- ten thirty," he said uncomfortably. This was not normal. There was no way that he could get advice on this without admitting a few incriminating facts. He had known for a long time- but he wanted to think of Rachel of more than a friend, and knew that she had no track record at all involving guys. If he asked and she said no- that would change the team, all because he had tried something he knew better about.

"So, you should be done about noon- I'll hold you to an eight-hour minimum rest, you know." Rachel kept old promises.

"I know," he said with a lopsided grin. He didn't mind- but maybe she didn't want to know that he wouldn't mind having her fuss over him. "I'll be good."

If she wanted, she could make that sly little remark flirtatious- he certainly had intended mischief, with the way he was smirking. She leaned back slightly, away from the smug smile. For a moment, she knew exactly what she could imply- but it passed, and she turned away just a fraction of a degree. It was enough. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, then." And she was gone to her room, where she closed the door before berating herself for letting that connection slip away.

He watched her go. He hadn't gone too far, this time, and they both knew it. He had left his remark perfectly ambiguous- if she wanted, it was double entendre. When she left, that just was a sign that she wasn't interested- for now. But, as he recalled, she could return insinuations with the best of them. All he had to do was wait until she was ready- no second meaning intended.

.Treatment.
She didn't like waiting rooms. Gar realized this very quickly. She had been fine when she picked him up, had rolled her eyes in what he liked to think an appreciative fashion at the few jokes he cracked, and had pulled into the parking lot carefully in her dented old car. She had started to look around the room even while he signed a few papers at the receptionists' desk, and was pacing in brief bursts before five minutes had passed. He watched as she made two neat circuits of the badly decorated room before sitting down.

"It won't be long," he said, just to break the silence.

"Waiting rooms make me nervous," she said shortly. However curt her words were, she was offering an explanation. "I wasn't very happy the last two times I was here- and the last time was far from the worst." Rachel hadn't worried too much about visiting Tara. She had been too angry to feel anything but shock that the traitor was still alive, still comatose, still pretty- in a twiggy way that Rachel was perversely glad looked silly against hospital sheets, without the big blue eyes to add to the picture.

"This won't be as dramatic."

"I hope so. The team has enough drama." Rachel was standing before the approaching nurse could say 'Garfield Logan.' "Ready?"

"This is an old deal. It's getting home that's harder," he admitted.

"We can fuss about that later."

The nurse looked from Gar to his friend. She had been on the staff for two years, and had known Gar for the months that he'd been treated there. "Gar, are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Um- Rachel, this is Francis. Francis, this is my friend Rachel." He couldn't emphasize 'friend' too much without offending Rachel, but he didn't need to make her defensive.

The nurse, luckily, was not far removed from teenage years. "I know Kozlowski encourages guests during chemo. Morale boosts and all that- if neither of your minds, of course." As expected, they didn't mind, but they both were careful to not seem too eager. "You'll only be here today for about an hour, Gar, and you know the side effects better than I do." She led them to a treating room. "I'll be back in a moment- I just need the IV lines."

"You do want me to stay?" Rachel asked before the nurse could return.

"If you want."

"This isn't about me. If you want me to stay, I will. It's that easy." Rachel eyed the chair beside his. It looked a little close, but she was here for moral support. She wasn't going to pull away.

"If-"

"No 'ifs.' Yes or no- and you can stop feeling guilty or noble or whatever your reason is for not giving a straight answer." Rachel wasn't going to guess.

"Yes," he said simply.

She felt that she should smile, but it was a forgotten habit. Instead, she took a seat while the nurse briskly recorded Gar's height and weight, adding figures to rows of data. "I'm a little new at this, and nothing online was very helpful."

"I have a plain IV drip. That'll be in for about an hour, and then some nurse or other wheels me out to the car. This hospital is pretty scared of lawyers, and kids with cancer are known to milk a jury pretty well."

Francis grinned at that statement. "Especially kids with mystery benefactors- you've fueled office gossip for months. Now, which arm- yes, you're in the right spot. Just stay on his left please, Miss Rachel. Rachel, have you ever been to someone else's chemo before?"

"I've never seen chemotherapy, personally."

"You have an easy job. Gar's good about getting needles and such and he had lovely big veins- yes, Gar, I'm complimenting your veins. Again. You would, too, if you tried to find these things with a needle- it's easy. Anyway, Rachel- you're here for emotional support and to drive him home. He can tell you how much help he'll need."

Rachel nodded. "It's only fair. I was bleeding all over him in January, after I bumped into something." It probably wouldn't be a good idea to mention bullet wounds- but Gar would catch the reference.

"Blood?" Francis smiled. "Gar, you can't even watch your arm go into the sampling vials," she said after taking his blood pressure. "124 over 72- very nice. Your pulse is normal, your breathing is fine, and I still need the blood sample."

Gar very carefully looked away. "She never said I was completely calm about the idea," he grumbled. "And it isn't the blood, as much as watching the vials swirl it around- and that's supposed to stay inside the body," he said, looking a little green from just one glance.

Rachel felt a headache coming on. "You have a strong aversion to blood."

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you let someone else help me stagger out of there to go get help?" she demanded. "I know I ruined your shirt, with all that blood."

"Rachel, do we really have to talk about blood?" he asked while the nurse slipped the IV of drugs into place. "Looking at it is bad enough. Getting it on me is worse. But discussing it- not necessary."

Rachel rolled her eyes, the only fitting response. "You, Logan, have severe mental problems that you should be treated for. Besides that- we're here for an hour, and you look exhausted."

"It's hard to sleep, sometimes," Gar said. "Side effects of a few medications and so on- and yes, Fran, that is in my paperwork," he added.

"So nap now," Rachel said, eyeing the way he kept slumping forwards. He was ready to sleep. "I'll just sit here for awhile, and wake you up when it's time to leave. Then, you don't have to stare at the needle in your arm for an hour."

"Are you sure?" he asked with a yawn.

"Positive. You can hardly be an interesting conversationalist when you're this tired- and if you want to come out with the group tonight, you better be awake. Nap while you can." The allusion to Titans convinced him, and he grinned at her through a very wide yawn. Rachel had never before had such a clear view of his molars- well, if she was considering dentistry as a career, she would be impressed. As it was- the nurse showed no intention of leaving.

"Rachel, is it? Would it interest you to know what that boy's said about you?"

Rachel slipped her hand into Gar's. He was asleep- he had to be, to slowly close his hand around hers without sweating palms. She was just as nervous as he was, most times, but her palms at least stayed dry. "What do you want in return?"

"Oh, so you know how this works- well, I just want to hear about a few events he's spoken of. Dr. Pamela Isley runs research at this hospital sometimes, and Isley herself said something about this boy coming and talking to her on the behalf of some good friend of his called Rachel. That is martyr behavior, right there- Pam isn't nice to residents even with seniority, and she's not even a doctor here. I don't know what she'd do with her students."

Rachel extended her other hand. "A story for a story, then." They shook on the arrangement, just to be formal. "Now, I remember that very clearly- it only started six days ago, after all…"

Gar woke up to hear Francis giggling. That was enough to start him into full awareness. Giggling nurses were terrifying, because it meant they had learned something good. He checked his arm- the IV was out, the inside of his elbow was neatly bandaged, and Rachel's hand was in his left. She pulled away slowly, once she saw he was awake, and finished telling the story about the wedding they all were going to. "What'd I miss?" he asked.

Rachel gave her most innocent look, and he felt the cold stirrings of doom. "Oh, not much- Fran and I were just bonding a little. I'll tell you about it sometime. For now, it's time to get you home."

He knew what that meant. Rachel and the nurse had traded the best secrets they knew about him. Rachel's best stories involved the Titans- but that didn't mean they were exempt. If anyone could twist them around, he'd bet Rachel had contorted them to be fully embarrassing. He only sulked a little while Fran eased him into a wheelchair- and was very surprised to hear that Rachel would wheel him outside.

"She must like you," he said, surprised. Nurses usually did not ignore protocol.

She shrugged placidly. "We get along. She's sending a striper to pick up the chair- it's the only medical thing they're good for, after all."

"So, you basically blasted candy-stripers, the bad nurses, incompetent doctors, and the administration when not talking about me," he said.

She thought for a moment. "Yes. I take it you've talked to her quite a few times, with how much she knows about you and getting blood drawn. She told me the most fascinating story about an August visit. . ."

"She did not."

Rachel waved to the receptionist as they left. "Oh, she did," she said with what could have been a smirk. "About how a certain new patient, pleasant as can be and with a never-ending stream of jokes, some decent and some otherwise, nearly swooned at the sight of his blood being drawn- and after looking at the bags for a nearby transfusion, promptly fainted."

"Earth to Rae- guys do not faint. They pass out."

"First, it's Rachel. Second, you fainted. Third- we're at the car. Do your legs work yet? Fran said that you're on a heavier dose today," Rachel said uncertainly.

"I did not faint," he argued. "And my legs recover eventually, but probably not for another few minutes."

"We don't have another few minutes. A candy-striper is coming this way, and I want to avoid her. With all the training we've been doing, I think I can lift one scrawny teammate two feet."

"Scrawny?" he said indignantly. "I'll have you know that I'm- um, what's a nicer word?"

"Svelte?" she suggested.

"That works."

Rae decided that she wanted to be in her car by the time the recognized cheerleader and candy-striper made it out to the parking lot. "Here- up with your left arm, your legs aren't sore, and-" She had braced herself for lifting him. She set him in the seat before glaring at him. "Okay, I'm not a heavyweight champion. Carting you around is easy. I think you need to start eating real food."

"Do you mean hamburgers? I'll pass."

"What's wrong with hamburgers?" she asked, closing the door quickly and darting over to the driver's side. She let out a sigh of relief once safely inside the car, and treated the trailing candy-striper with a free glare.

"That's not on the approved diet. I have enough issues digesting natural stuff like tofu. Meat- well, let's just say that it's not worth it. Milk is bad, but, for no apparent reason, yogurt and cheese are recommended. Whoever created chemo was probably experimenting with the drugs when he wrote the diet."

She was still looking at him about eight seconds later. Given her usual fast responses, he shifted a little. "What?"

"You mean that eating meat would mess up your digestive track. That's why you don't eat it."

"Um- yes?" he said.

"And we've been having the He-Men Carnivore verses Herbivore Tournament for six months without reason?" She shook her head. Sometimes, it was easier to just blame the testosterone levels. She didn't want to understand that. "Do you want me to help with the seatbelt?"

"I think I can manage," he said shortly.

She had been fiddling with her driver's side mirror. "I'm not trying to be difficult, or to mess with that growth called an ego. All I know is that you just had chemo, I don't know what you need help with, I know you won't ask me for help with stuff like that, and you've been grimacing a little whenever you move your right arm." That was enough. He was not going to bait her, today of all days. Instead, she put on her own seatbelt brusquely, turned her keys in the ignition, and backed out of her parking space.

He spoke again when she had carefully pulled out. He knew that she didn't need to take that long to back out of a space- but she had left him plenty of time to pull the seatbelt across with his left hand. "I'm sorry, Rachel- it just means so much that you'd stay with me today, and I'm always in a bad mood after chemo. That's half the reason I didn't want to ask you. I'm hard enough to deal with on a good day."

"You tell me to not worry about my problems- and you deserve days where you don't have to be the optimist." She couldn't manage to keep a positive attitude for long. She rarely saw him anything but cheerful- he was just as bad as Kori. "You need to get rid of the idea that I'm just putting up with you to- to be some kind of philanthropist. Have I tried to kill you yet?"

"No, and I appreciate that- it's just hard," he said after a few turns. She was a careful driver, but she expected a lot out of her little car. She braked hard, turned fast, and took corners very closely- but she always ended up safe. "I'm just used to the foster care system, the pass-the-kid method. I've been lucky that the current fosters put up with me and all my money problems.

"They seem to be managing- and they're crazy about their son. You have some parents there, Gar," she said steadily, glancing at him with the excuse of checking the passenger-side mirror. "You're not going anywhere. Did you know that Wayne has a few ties in the foster system, since he officially took Richard in as a ward? He talked to your social worker. You have a lot of people who want you to stay right here, in Forston." It was better to not bring up whoever it was that paid his medical bills- it seemed that a small clause in a short agreement stated that all treatments must happen in the city. Francis had been more than happy to chat about the news.

Gar was lost for words. He tried to not get attached to people or places- but this time, the attachment went both ways. He bit his lip for a moment, wondering why she always knew just what to say. "I- I don't know what to say," he said quietly.

She pulled in front of his house, ending the short drive. She hadn't thought that he listened to her that closely- but maybe he always did hear what she said. "Sometimes, you don't need to say anything." Before she could think better of the action, she put her arm around his shoulders- from the way he leaned against her, he didn't mind.

He hadn't known that Rachel did public displays of affection. There had been that hug- he never would forget that- but he had very firmly told himself that that little incident had been a fluke. He grinned at her when she pulled away. "Don't worry, Rachel. Your reputation's safe with me."

She socked him in the arm. He was sitting on her right, so she wouldn't touch the sore arm. "Dramatics- and my reputation better be safe, because I'll know exactly who made it unsafe." She let herself out of the car and walked around the back, to give herself an unseen moment to take a deep breath. Relax. He's coming home from chemo. He does not need to deal with the lady with the can't-stand-him volunteers-to-spend time with him complex. Rachel knew very well that her complex was of the entirely different sort, but she didn't need to admit as much.

She opened his door. "What do you need me to do?" she asked briskly. Asking the usual way made him defensive- she could understand that. She hated having to depend on someone. Maybe businesslike was the way to do it, just like a practiced nurse- she could pretend experience for awhile.

"I just need a hand to help me get on my feet." He took her hand. So, she hadn't been exaggerating- it was very easy for her to pull him out of the car. For one glorious moment, he was standing on his own two feet right after chemo- and then, reality reasserted himself, and he tilted left. He grabbed onto the car with his left arm when his legs shifted beneath him.

"Okay, so maybe I still can't walk away from chemo."

She gave him a doubtful look. His legs were still awry, the extra height of the curb let him hold onto the top molding of the car, and he looked more than a little shaky. "Let's not do that again." She put right arm around his back, just under his shoulders. It was easier to ask forgiveness than permission- and she wasn't asking forgiveness. If he was going to be macho, she'd head him off by being bossy before he could do some damage to himself. It'd make him feel worse, if he really fell. "Left arm around me, please- you keep claiming I'd make a good doctor. Listen to medical advice."

"Okay, doc- and isn't the hero supposed to help the damsel?"

She fixed him with a grade-three skeptical stare. "We're both costumed vigilantes, when we don't have too much homework. I think conventions are officially out the window. Now, hero, we're crossing the lawn, going up the stairs, getting through the door with your key, and then. . ."

"Crashing on the couch, for me."

"The one just right of the door?" Rachel asked.

"That's the only couch we have-"

"I'm checking details- and don't you dare apologize," she said when he opened his mouth with a decidedly conciliatory look on his face. "I'm grouchy enough for both of us, most days. Take your turn to be the moody one."

He wasn't quite sure how they made it across the lawn. He felt the tell-tale waves of nausea just after Rachel took the key from him, and concentrated on deep breaths even after he felt himself cross a lawn, climb stairs, and sit slowly on a couch. He opened his eyes half-way. "That wasn't so bad, see?"

"It's half past twelve. If you want to patrol at all, I expect to see you resting," she said as she took a seat on the couch. She set a ginger ale on the coffee table. "Apparently, this stuff is good for chemo patients- I'd think that it was toxic, but your mom left a note out. If you feel like waking up- drink time."

"Goodbye, then," he said drowsily.

"Who said I'm leaving?" she asked, producing a book. She smiled a touch at his confused look. "You were out for a few minutes. I brought books in the car. I am staying around until your mother is safely home, just to make sure you're behaving yourself." She knew that he wouldn't mind- and Shelia had said that staying would be a very good idea.

"I already said I'd be good," he said with a yawn. That was not at all fair of her, to start a battle of wits when he was half asleep.

"Maybe your definition of good is a little different than mine." She tucked a blanket around him. "And even if you're completely back to normal by tonight- I'll watch your back."

"Only if I can watch yours."

Was he implying- he was. Gar was smirking. That meant that he knew exactly what he had just said. "You'll watch my back, huh?" She rose and took a step forward, plucking something from the ground. She looked at him for a long moment and waited for him to gulp- it was only right to keep him nervous after a remark like that. Rachel buffeted his legs- lightly. "You're lucky that I'm being nice to you today, cancer-boy- tomorrow, I won't let you off so easily." He was asleep before he could think of a good retort, but she knew he had heard her.

Rachel took back her seat at the other end of the couch. She paused just a moment before looking down to her book. He still was smiling a little, but the self-satisfaction of the smirk was past. She very carefully prodded at his hand. He groggily moved away, but he was completely asleep. "You know, Gar- you're kind of cute when you're asleep." She cracked her book open and looked at him again- still asleep. He wasn't a good enough liar to stay completely still- he hadn't heard her. She was reading before she could realize just exactly what she had said- and that she had kind of wanted him to hear her.

But- only to see the look on his face, of course. That was the only reason. Rachel was busily reading before she could figure out that she was lying to herself. Maybe things should go back to the way they were, before she had openly returned the kind of banter. She snuck a glance to her right, one more time- well, maybe she'd just have a different kind of friendship. Yes, friendship, she told herself firmly. Friends go to someone else's chemo and deal with crazy stalkers. We're just- close friends, that's all. Nothing to be bothered about. Rachel was no acolyte to lying. She had hidden her father's identity for years. Keeping something as minor as a crush secret should be easy.

Rachel blushed, even with no one to see- well, she certainly wasn't doing very well in lying to herself. Maybe her friends would be a little harder to trick- but she doubted it. Sometime, I'm going to have a talking with the dratted emotions behind this. What part of teenagers don't need extra drama don't they understand? She sighed when there wasn't an answer- well, obvoiusly her emotions wouldn't confess. That left talking to herself, her friends, Gar- or ignoring the troublesome new problems and going back to the dilemmas of Jane Austen's characters.

Rachel was very happily reading about Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy less than a minute later. Some choices were just obvious.