Disclaimer: Ok, do you know what I realized? I actually DO own one of these characters! I own Jonathan! I made him up! He is not in the movie or the play! I invented him! He is MINE! ::does a cartwheel:: Sorry, that made me happy. It's probably really sad that it took me that long to figure that out but whatever…as for the other characters and stuff, I don't own them. Kudos to Bob Fosse and whoever else might own them.

And now…my story…


Jonathan sat next to Sally's bed, watching her sleep. When Brian had called and said that he had better come over, that Sally was there and something was wrong, he certainly hadn't expected this. He didn't know what it was he had been expecting instead, but Sally being this sick had never even crossed his mind. They had taken her home, and then Jonathan had called his own doctor to come over and see her, figuring she had probably collapsed because she hadn't been eating much lately. But when the doctor had told him how sick Sally really was, that he feared there was something really and truly wrong with her, that he would have to come back tomorrow with more equipment and examine her further, Jonathan had hardly been able to breathe. Just last night they had gone to the theater--he had taken her to her first opera--and then they had gone dancing and…everything had been perfect.
As he looked at her, he couldn't believe he hadn't realized it sooner. Her chronic headaches, her constant exhaustion…it all made sense now. She was so sick and he hadn't even stopped to consider that possibility before.
Brian was sitting on the other side of the bed, keeping watch over Sally as well. Jonathan was actually glad he was there; he wouldn't have been able to sit alone all night. They hadn't talked much, except to express minimal amounts of support to each other…as much support as best friends fighting for the affections of the same woman could muster. Both of them kept their eyes on Sally, watching and waiting for any sign that she might be awake, but occasionally their eyes would meet over her. It was during one of those chance times of eye contact that Jonathan realized that Brian really did care for Sally. The look in his eyes just then had said it all. Jonathan shifted his eyes back down to Sally. He was holding her hand, gently playing with her fingers…he couldn't help but smile at her red fingernails. "Deep crimson," as she called them…it was the first thing she had done when they arrived in London. Painted her fingernails "deep crimson," claiming that her usual shade of green was just "too decadent" for such a sophisticated city.
"I can't believe this," Brian said quietly, breaking the hour-long silence between them.
"Neither can I." Jonathan didn't make an effort to look up. He kept playing with Sally's fingers, just as he would have had she been sitting there talking to him herself.
"She was fine this morning, Jonathan. She was fine. We were standing there talking and then she just—"
"I know, Brian. I know. You've told me already." Jonathan's voice was rising. "And I know she was fine this morning, because I came in and woke her up and we talked. I know all of this and I know I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"Jonathan, I'm just trying to—"
"I don't care what you're trying to do. Let's just leave it alone."
It was silent for a moment, and then Brian spoke up. "You're not the only one who loves her, Jonathan."
"I said I don't want to talk about it now!" He was almost yelling.
"Fine." Brian gave up, crossing his arms and settling back into his chair.
Jonathan continued holding Sally's hand, lightly kissing her fingers one by one. He couldn't discuss this with Brian now, because he knew that if he did he wouldn't be able to control himself. He didn't want to break down just yet. Sally could wake up any minute and she didn't need to see him upset.
Jonathan was beginning to get tired, but he would not allow himself to go to sleep. He needed to be there and be awake when Sally regained consciousness. It worried him that she hadn't woken up ever since she had initially collapsed, which was now nearly twelve hours ago. But the doctor had said that it could take that long, so Jonathan figured all he could do was wait. He kept noticing how fragile she looked, how pale she was…even her hands didn't seem the same. Jonathan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, he felt Sally's hand move in his. He opened his eyes and sat up.
"Jonathan…" she whispered. Her eyes were still closed.
"I'm here, darling. I'm here." He looked over at Brian, who was perched on the edge of his chair.
"Jonathan…" she said again.
"I'm right here, Sally. Can you open your eyes, darling? I'm right here next to you. Just open your eyes and you'll see me."
Her eyes fluttered open a moment later. "Brian," she whispered, looking to the side.
"Hi, Sally," he said softly.
"Where's Jonathan…"
"He's on the other side of you. Just turn your head a little bit."
Before she had the chance, Jonathan leaned down and gently kissed her on the lips. "There," he said. "Do you see me now?"
She smiled a little. "Yes."
"Good. How do you feel?"
"All right."

Jonathan could tell that she was starting to wake up a bit more; her voice was getting stronger and her words were getting clearer. He and Brian exchanged relieved glances.

"Can I sit up?" Sally was asking. "I don't like you two being able to look at each other funny without my knowing why." Both men laughed. It was obvious to Jonathan that Sally was indeed feeling better, as her sense of humor was returning. He propped a pillow up against the headboard of the bed and helped her sit up against it.

"Do you need anything else?" Brian asked.

"Actually…" Sally looked at Jonathan. "Darling, do you mind? I need to talk to Brian for a minute."

Jonathan was confused by Sally's request. He didn't mind her talking to Brian in the slightest, but did she really need to be alone with him to do so? "Well…of course I don't mind, Sally."

She squeezed his hand gently. "Thank you, darling." Jonathan nodded absently, and walked out of the room, leaving Sally and Brian to themselves.

"I just wanted to say thank you," Sally said softly.

"For what?" Brian realized he had subconsciously taken Sally's hand in his. He remembered the last time they had held hands…the train station in Berlin. It seemed like just yesterday…

"For everything you've done today," Sally was saying. "You called Jonathan when I got sick…I know that wasn't easy for you to do."

"Sally, of course I called him. I—I had to. He's your…he loves you."

"I just mean…I know what you two are going through right now, and for you to do that…for you to admit…well, I just mean it was very considerate of you. You and I weren't on the best of terms this morning, and for you to stay here with me—and with Jonathan—this whole time was just…more than I would have expected. So thank you."

"You don't owe me thanks, Sally…not after how I've treated you."

"Brian, really, it's all right."

"No, it's not. I apologize…I shouldn't have said those things to you this morning. And I shouldn't have said what I said at the train station. Especially the part about—"

"I know. I don't want to talk about it again."

"Me either. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I hope you understand…"

"I do." Sally had started to cry without even realizing it. Brian reached over to wipe the tears off her cheek, and their eyes met. Impulsively, involuntarily, and without even thinking about it, they both leaned in to kiss. In the few seconds that their lips touched, they were both flooded with memories. Sally pulled away first, and they just sat looking at each other for what seemed like forever, startled with themselves. After a few more minutes of silence, Sally spoke up. "Tell me that didn't mean anything."

"I—I can't say that, Sally." Brian averted his eyes, ashamed. What would he tell Jonathan? More silence.

"Neither can I," she finally said, quietly.