A/N: Okay. Either y'all hated the last chapter, you didn't know what to say about it, or you didn't realize I'd updated. I'm hoping it's the last one. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it. And, yes,we do have a plan for where it's going. Alexandri

"Come on, Adam. You can't keep doing this."

Adam stared blearily at his roommate. For the past two weeks, Corey had been nagging him to "buck up." "This whole depressed thing is not working. You're bringing everybody down, man," he kept saying. He'd ignored Corey at first, but for the last week, it had taken all of his self-control not to shout that he didn't give a damn if he was bringing anyone down. Joan had left him and he felt utterly lost, as lost as he'd felt after his mother died. "I came like you asked, didn't I?" His tongue felt heavy like it didn't belong in his mouth.

"And what are you doing?" Corey asked, his arms folded over his chest. "You're sitting in the corner by yourself guzzling a beer. It's a party. Have some fun."

"No, thanks."

Corey sighed. "She's gone. You need to move on."

"We just broke up two weeks ago," Adam retorted, his throat aching from the effort it took not to scream at his well-meaning but clearly clueless roommate. "It's a little hard to move on when the person you love most in the world just abandoned you."

"Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

Adam lifted his eyebrows in stark disbelief. Sitting in the living room of the East Village apartment of one of Corey's role-playing buddies, he was surrounded by people in Goth makeup, heavy black leather dusters despite the early May weather, spiky hair and an inordinate amount of silver jewelry. "You're kidding, right?"

"It's not like you guys spent that much time together anyway. I don't see what the big deal is."

Corey had been raised by wolves. Adam was now certain it. "It just is, all right."

"Whatever. You're at a party. Start acting like it," Corey said dismissively before disappearing into the noisy throng.

Glaring after his insensitive roommate, Adam tossed back the rest of his beer—his third of the night—and resumed his moody contemplation of the situation in which he found himself. Not only was he steadily getting drunk—his vision was already blurry—but Joan's face kept swimming before his mind's eye. Of course, this Janevision had been a constant since she'd boarded the train and left him two weeks ago. But the alcohol in his system seemed to make his picture perfect memories hyperclear. Everything, even the details he hadn't paid attention to at the time, floated before his eyes with perfect clarity.

Carefully, he pushed out of his chair, pausing to let the sharp rush of nausea settle before he pushed through the unyielding noise and bodies toward the kitchen. A surprisingly normal-looking guy filled a red plastic cup with beer and held it out to Adam. He shook his head. He had a theory—his memories became more defined the drunker he got. The sensible part of his brain yelled that he should stop now before he did something stupid. Instead, Adam stumbled around the keg and grabbed a bottle of clear liquid. Studying it, Adam made out the word Schnapps. That was a kind of vodka, right? He thought so. That should be strong enough. He filled a cup halfway and took a gulp. Gripping the counter, Adam shuddered and waited for the coughing and burning to subside.

Suddenly, Adam stood on the Girardis' front porch staring at Joan. Her hair, damp from the shower, cascaded around her face and shoulders. For the first time, he noticed the subtle reds and shimmering golds glinting in her rich, chestnut locks. Her honeyed skin glowed in the warm light spilling over her from the living room. Even with her face completely devoid of makeup, Joan was easily the most beautiful girl he'd ever known. God, how he wanted to touch her.

The image faded leaving Adam shaken. He searched for more moments, knowing that it only exacerbated his pain. He tried to focus on one memory at a time, but they tumbled over each other so that he only got flashes. The harder he tried, the more desperate he felt. Unsteadily, he raised the plastic cup to his lips.

Then it disappeared.

"No, you don't," a vaguely amused female voice said.

Adam gingerly glanced over his shoulder. Joan smirked back. Wait. That couldn't be right. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he looked again. "Caitlin?" he asked, surprised by the gruffness of his voice.

"I think you've had enough for one night," she told him, the smirk still firmly in place.

"I'm fine." He turned around, staggering slightly.

"In a sense," she conceded, "but not the one you mean."

He leaned against the counter figuring he needed the extra support since the room was moving. "Gimme the cup back, Caitlin."

"Not even if you say 'pretty please." She sniffed the contents and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Peppermint Schnapps, straight up? You don't even drink, Adam. You are so cut off."

"Gimme the damn cup," he practically growled. He made a grab for it, missed, and lurched forward into her.

Dropping the cup, Caitlin instinctively slipped her arms under his and slowed their descent to the kitchen floor. "Help," she called.

A part of Adam knew he should get up, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the spilled cup. Now he'd have to get another one if only he could muster up the energy. Someone pulled him to his feet and Caitlin wrapped her arm around his waist while draping his arm around her shoulders.

"Where you taking me?" he asked listlessly as she guided him through the crowd.

"Bedroom. You need to lie down before you hurt yourself or someone else."

He would have answered but everything had begun to spin in kaleidoscopic Technicolor. To keep from vomiting, he buried his face in Caitlin's shoulder and tottered in her wake.

Caitlin gently dumped Adam on the bed. Opening his eyes, he found the room was blessedly dark. Only the moonlight streaming in through the solitary window allowed him to see Caitlin hovering over him.

"You want to tell me the cause of this amazingly uncharacteristic behavior?" she asked softly.

"No." He closed his eyes against the moonlight. It had begun to hurt his eyes.

"All right," she sighed. "Get some rest. I'm going to go see if I can get someone to take you back to your dorm."

Nodding, he turned away from her and the light. At the moment, he found it difficult to care about anything. Besides, rest sounded good.

Adam drifted into a semi-conscious state. The memories he'd sought earlier flooded him now. An unhindered view of Joan in the front seat of the convertible they'd gotten from the police impound for their road trip bloomed forth. Her bare feet on the dashboard, she'd worn a tiny pair of khaki shorts, a bikini top, and a thin, short-sleeved button-down. She'd said it didn't make sense not to take advantage of all the sunbathing time she could. After all, there wasn't a law that said you could only do it at the beach.

The memory was followed by one of them standing in the hallway at school. She'd looked so hurt and scared and uncertain standing there before him trying to accept his relationship with Iris even though they both knew she was the one he wanted. He'd felt so conflicted. He actually liked Iris and he didn't want to hurt her, but she didn't begin to compare to Joan.

Suddenly, Joan was in his arms, her hands warm and light on the back of his neck. They swayed in time to the music under the soft, twinkling lights of the hotel ballroom. As gorgeous as she looked in her rose-pink silk gown, her lips were what held his attention. Her eyes fluttered closed and she moved closer to him, her hands applying subtle pressure. He'd taken the hint and kissed her, careful to keep his tongue in his mouth. The last thing either of them wanted was to be separated by Price.

Joan beaming at him as they took pictures at graduation.

Joan convincing him to dance in the moonlit backyard at some fiesta she'd gotten them invited to in New Mexico.

Joan frantically swinging a folding chair at Ascension.

Joan crying in his arms once she'd accepted the finality of Judith's death.

Joan standing in front of Lishack's A.P. Chem class for the first time clearly unmoved by what she saw.

Joan ran her fingers through his hair and softly called his name. He rolled onto his back and stared up at her. Her hair fell down on either side of her face, blocking it from the light and his view. Slowly, reverently, he lifted his hand and brushed one side back, tucking it behind her ear. The moonlight enhanced the gentle curves of her face and he smiled in delirious pleasure. She was here.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey."

"I heard you had quite a night."

He chuckled sadly as his grin faded. "I'm sorry," he murmured as he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her skin.

She gave a quizzical glance. "For what?"

"Everything." Adam sniffled as he gazed into her beloved face. "It wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"I know." A sharp pang seized his heart at the forlorn tone of her voice. He wished he could make her sound happy again. "We should get you home."

He shook his head.

"Adam."

"No." If he went home, she'd leave and he wasn't ready for her to go again. Not yet. "Can't we stay a little while?"

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to be alone."

She smiled. "You'll probably go right to sleep."

She was right. He knew that. And, when he woke up, she'd be gone. Didn't she see he couldn't waste his chance to be with her now? "Please?"

"We really should go."

Adam pushed himself up and took her face in his hands. "Please?" he repeated as he kissed her.

She pushed him back. "Adam?"

His fingers caressing the nape of her neck, he rested his forehead against hers. "Stay with me."

"I . . ."

He met her gaze, his eyes pleading with her to say yes. "Don't leave me yet."

She returned his stare, searching his face as she made her decision. "Okay. But not for long."

"I understand," he replied. He changed the angle of his head, bringing his mouth closer to hers. "I've missed you."

"Yeah."

He knew he shouldn't do what he was about to do. It just showed his weakness. But he was desperate. He couldn't go on like this for much longer. "Make it go away."

"What?"

"The hurt," he whispered.

"Oh, Adam," she sighed. And he knew she would.

He tilted her head and brushed his mouth over hers. She didn't protest or pull away and he deepened the kiss. A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him something wasn't right, that things were different somehow. Adam ignored it. Of course, things were different. Joan wasn't his anymore. This was just a brief reprieve.

He lay back on the bed, taking Joan with him. She whimpered as he swept his tongue over her lips. She opened for him and arched into his touch as his hand slid down her back to her waist. Using his fingertips, he gathered her shirt and slipped his hand under it.

She tore her mouth from his and gaze down at him. Her breathing was ragged. "What am I . . . we can't do this. It's wrong," she panted.

For a long moment, Adam simply returned her gaze, his disappointment swelling inside him. She was right. You don't sleep with your ex, especially when one of you has no intention of getting back together. What had sex ever solved anyway? "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said, stroking his cheek.

He turned his face away from her. He couldn't stand her affection right now, not when it wasn't permanent. It would just make things worse; just make him want her more. Then why were there tears trickling from his eyes? Ashamed and embarrassed, Adam turned away from her completely and hid his face in his pillow.

"Adam," she said, laying her hand on his shoulder. He shook it off. "Adam?"

"Just leave it alone. It was stupid."

The silence following his statement lasted so long, it began to ring in his ears.

"I do want you," she whispered. She laid her hand on him again. "I've wanted you almost from the beginning."

He didn't answer. So she wanted him. It didn't make any difference. They could want each other until hell froze over, but if they weren't getting back together—and she'd made it pretty clear that they weren't—then wanting wasn't enough.

Her lips grazing his neck startled him, but not as much as her hand sliding under his shirt. He grabbed her wrist, preventing her from going any further. "Don't start something you aren't going to see through."

"I miss you, Adam. The last two weeks, it hasn't been the same without you."

He glanced at her over his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The little voice that told him things weren't quite right screamed at him now. But it was Joan and she was here and maybe she was as miserable as he was and wanted to end their ridiculous split. Adam let go of her wrist. "All right."

She smiled the big, luminous smile that always made his heart beat faster. Turning over on his back, Adam returned her smile and tugged her to him. He groaned as her hands tunneled under his shirt, her nails lightly raking over his chest and nipples. Sliding his hands up her arms, he leaned into her and claimed her mouth. As she squirmed against him, he slid his hands down her back and cupped her bottom. She gasped at the feel of his arousal against her. He moaned when she swiveled her hips into his.

As eager as he was to get closer to her, Adam's body felt increasingly heavy. There were so many things he wanted to do with her and, yet he couldn't seem to muster the strength to do them. Joan's mouth moved to his neck and worked its way down to his chest. When she sucked one of his nipples into her mouth and nipped it, he decided to let her have her way.

Adam arched under her hands and mouth as she leisurely made her way down his chest. His breathing became more ragged as she delved into his navel with her tongue, her fingers fumbling with the clasp of his jeans. He swallowed a muffled cry as her hands stroked his erection. He tried to speak. He wanted to tell her how she was making him feel, but he couldn't translate the sensations into words. Then he felt her lips wrap around him and he couldn't think at all.

She slowly worked her way down his length, her tongue languidly stroking its underside and head. Adam balled his fists in the comforter beneath him in an attempt to ground himself. He felt like he was spinning higher and more out of control than he'd ever been. He couldn't seem to remember to breathe and, God help him, he didn't think he could contain himself much longer. "Please," he panted. "I can't . . . I need you."

She released him and crawled up his frame, her body brushing against his aching member. He shuddered as it passed between her breasts. A groan escaped him as she sank her teeth into his neck, her tongue flickering over his hammering pulse. He slid his hands up her thighs and under her skirt as she worked her way up his neck. As she cradled his head and took his mouth, he gripped her panties and tugged. In the process of removing her underpants, he ended up on top, his erection pressed against her hot, damp center.

He tore his mouth from hers. "Are you sure?" he whispered as he swept her hair off her face.

In answer, she ran her hand down his chest, gripped his arousal, and guided him into her. "Oh," he moaned as he sank deeper. The annoying voice in the back of his mind wondered why it was so easy to enter her, but Adam ignored it. He completely forgot the question when she flexed around him. He only knew he had to move.

Moving slowly, Adam tried to establish the right rhythm. He didn't want to rush it. Closing his eyes, he was amazed at how good it felt to finally be inside her. With one hand lodged in his hair and the other one digging into his back, she wrapped her legs around his waist and met him thrust for thrust.

Adam felt his body slowing. Frowning, he tried to reestablish his pace only to notice that the edges of his consciousness were dimming. Somehow, he knew his time with her was running out. Sliding his hands over her face, he kissed her, deep and sweet. Vaguely, he heard the door open and someone say "What the . . .?"

He ended the kiss and smiled down at her despite the rapidly encroaching darkness. "I love you, Jane," he whispered. Then the darkness overtook him.

Light, sharp and harsh, beat against Adam's eyelids. Groaning, he turned his face into his pillow and took a mental inventory. Aside from his eyes hurting, his head was killing him, his stomach demanded the release of vomiting, and his entire body felt unusually weak. What the hell had he done last night to make him feel this bad?

Joan.

He jerked upright, causing his stomach to lurch and his head to pound. Fighting through the pain, he searched the room for Joan. Instead, he found Caitlin sitting in his desk chair. "Morning, stud."

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His voice was thin and raspy.

"That's not the nicest way to greet the person who spent the night looking after your ass," she observed calmly as she stretched her legs out and propped them on the end of the bed.

Leaning against the wall, he glanced at Corey's side of the room. His roommate wasn't there. "What are you talking about? Where's Corey?"

"Corey's not here," she answered. His confusion grew at the taut anger in her voice. He wondered if they'd had a fight last night and she was still pissed at him. "Do you remember last night?"

He shook his head and the motion was too much. Shoving his sheets aside, he stumbled out of bed and grabbed the wastebasket in time to hurl. The sound made his head hurt worse and the putrid odor made him vomit more. When he finally stopped, he was shaking, his hand pressed against the floor the only thing keeping him up. "Oh, God," he gasped.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you chase three beers with the equivalent of a triple shot of Schnapps on an empty stomach." Adam wanted to glare at his smart-assed caretaker, but was too weak to gather the tiny amount of energy it would take to look at her. "Be happy I didn't have to take you to the hospital to have your stomach pumped."

Adam gave up the effort to stay upright and collapsed against the side of his bed and sighed. He couldn't seem to stop shivering.

"Here."

Letting his head roll toward her, he spied a paper towel in her outstretched hand. "Thank you," he whispered as he took it and wiped his mouth.

"Now this." She held out a small glass of water. At his arched eyebrow, Caitlin said, "Rinse and spit. That trash bag's a goner anyway."

Adam did as he was told, grateful to her in spite of himself.

"And these." She handed him a pack of crackers as she took his water glass.

"Why are you doing all of this for me?" he asked as he nibbled the crackers.

"It's what I do," she replied with a shrug. She was rooting around in his dresser. He was too tired to object to this. Then she aimed a cheeky grin at him over her shoulder. "I take care of drunks."

He found the energy to glare at her. "I'm not a drunk," he stated, simultaneously offended and amused.

"Well, you did a damn fine impression of one last night." She turned back toward him and handed him a shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

For the first time, he realized he only had on his boxers. He blushed and Caitlin began to laugh. "Mind tell me what's so funny?" he asked bitterly as he jerk the shirt on. The whole situation was embarrassing enough without her laughing at him. Her laughter didn't help his headache either.

"This isn't what you need to be embarrassed about," she said matter-of-factly as she took out a pair of socks. "I saw much more of you last night."

With one leg in his pants, Adam stilled and gaped at her. Since there had only been one part of him covered when she'd begun to laugh . . . The blood drained from his face when he realized exactly what she meant. Dear God, what had he done?

"Put on your pants," she said gently. "Go on," she prompted when he just stood there staring at her.

Adam finished putting on his pants then sat down again. Caitlin joined him on the floor and handed him the socks. She nudged the trashcan away as he put them on. Then she looked at him, her eyes filled with sympathy. "Do you remember anything about last night?"

Pulling his knees up to his chin, he wrapped his arms around them and tried to recall the previous night. "Corey talked me into going to the party," he began slowly. "I didn't want to go but I did so he'd leave me alone. Since I didn't know anybody, I got a beer and sat down. Three beers later, Corey told me to start acting like I was at a party. Then I went to the kitchen and that's when things get fuzzy."

"Do you remember getting the Schnapps?"

"Yes. You took it from me before I could drink any more of it."

"Do you remember falling on me?"

Adam nodded slowly. "Then you took me to the bedroom?"

"Right," she confirmed, "and I put you in bed and went to look for someone to bring you home."

"Then how did you see . . . what you saw?" he asked.

"Do you remember anything else after that?" Caitlin prompted.

He laid his head on his knees and tried to think past the still-throbbing pain of his head. His stomach had begun to settle but his headache was extremely resistant. Finally, he said, "I went to sleep and dreamt of Jane. She was in the room with me and we talked and we, um, we . . . you know."

Caitlin sighed and pursed her lips as if she was trying to figure out how to tell him something.

"Did you and I do something . . ."

"No," she said. "No, we didn't do anything. Though, come to think of it, you did throw up on me in the cab."

That explained why she was wearing his Iron Maiden t-shirt. "Sorry about that."

She shrugged his apology off as she turned toward him and met his eyes. "Adam, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but, while you were dreaming of Joan, you had sex with someone else."

The air whooshed out of him and tears stung the back of his eyes. He blinked them back and tried to wrap his mind around what she'd just told him. No matter how hard he tried, it sounded too fantastic to be believable. Finally, he said, "It was real?"

Caitlin nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to ask the next question. "Did I force her?"

"Not from what I could tell."

"Was she drunk, too?"

"No."

Nodding, he buried his face in his lap. Why was this happening to him? This couldn't be happening to him. There was still hope that he'd wake up and this conversation would turn out to be a nightmare, right? Sure, and he'd wake up in his bed back in Arcadia to find his mother alive and well. Could things get any more fucked up than they were right now?

"She was pretty heart-broken, though," Caitlin mused quietly. "Before she ran off, she said she thought you were talking about her, not Joan."

The bottom dropped out of his stomach as he gaped at her. "I know the girl?" He hadn't known anyone there except Corey and Caitlin.

"It was Ashley."

Laughing bitterly, Adam fell back against the side of his bed and scrubbed his face with his hands. "How did . . .why was she even there?"

"I called her to come get you," Caitlin admitted. "I would have brought you home myself in the first place, but Corey refused to leave even after I told him how bad off you were. Since I didn't want to leave him by himself—the words moderation and abstinence mean nothing to him—I tried to get someone else to take you home. No one would, so I looked through Steve's student directory and found Ashley's number. Before she showed up, I went to the corner store to get you some coffee. Steve never has any. When I got back, you two were having sex and you fainted on top of her."

"Shit." What had he ever done to deserve this?

"I'm really sorry, Adam."

"I'm the one who got wasted and delusional. It's not your fault, Cait." She shrugged, her face full with remorse. Adam wondered just how much he'd misjudged her. "So you brought me home?"

She nodded. "I couldn't leave you there. Not after what happened. And since I was pissed with Corey anyway, I decided to leave him and bring you home. I straightened your clothes—something I never want to do again . . ."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically. "Exactly what every guy wants to hear."

Caitlin laughed. "We're barely friends and I touched . . . . I don't want to do that with someone who always curls up in a ball when I'm around."

"I don't . . ."

"Yeah, you do." She smiled at him and Adam felt relieved to know she didn't hold it again him. "With good reason. Anyway, I managed to get you down to the street and hail a taxi and get you here. You were so out of it, you went right to sleep and I took a shower, borrowed some clothes, and kept an eye on you to make sure you wouldn't need to be rushed to the hospital."

They stared at each other in silence. Adam couldn't believe he'd missed this side of her, that he hadn't seen past all the black clothes, dark, flat hair, and pale-skinned weirdness. There had been a time when he would have noticed the kind, genuine girl hiding beneath the façade he'd bought into for the past year and a half. Had he really changed so much that he no longer noticed the reality beneath the lies people told? "Thank you for taking care of me and everything."

"I'm not done yet."

"You got me through the night without a trip to the hospital. What more is there?"

She grinned. "The obligatory you-don't-want-to-know-what's-in-it-but-it'll-knock-that-pesky-hangover-right-out drink. It's waiting for you in the fridge."

"Is it really that bad?" he asked with a chuckle.

"It really is, but you don't need to drink all of it," she answered as she got to her feet and headed to the refrigerator.

She sat next to him and handed him the drink. It was a grayish-green shake-like substance. He looked at her, hoping she'd smile and say this wasn't the real stuff he had to drink. Instead, she motioned for him to get on with it. Closing his eyes and deciding to trust her, Adam downed as much of it as he could stand before handing it back and trying not to gag. She dumped the rest of it in the trash and tied the bag closed.

"Now," she said, "you should take a shower or a nap, your choice, then we can go over your options."

"My options?" he asked, waiting for the chalky taste to go away.

"I assume you'll want to talk to Ashley. Make sure she's okay and all. And you have a final tomorrow, which you haven't study for. And an insensitive ass of a roommate to deal with. And a broken heart to mend." Caitlin frowned. "Man, the end of the year sucks for you."

"Yeah." That was putting it mildly.

"I'm sorry about Joan. I didn't know."

"Thanks. Nobody knew except Corey, but that's because he heard us fighting."

"So Ashley didn't know?"

Adam shook his head. "I didn't want to talk about it, so I kinda distanced myself from everybody."

"It'll get better," she said quietly.

"I don't know. She was . . ." he paused to find the right word, "everything. She was my everything."

Caitlin took his hand in hers. Before today, he'd have slowly taken his hand back, afraid she was making a move on him. Now, he recognized it for what it was, a gesture of comfort. "It's never a good idea to make someone your everything. They're bound to disappoint you. The best you can do is give them your all. Believe it or not, they're not the same thing."

"Personal experience?" he asked, turning to look at her.

"Too much of it."

"Then I'll keep it in mind," he said as he got up. He offered her a hand, which she lightly slapped aside before getting to her feet on her own. "I think I'm going to take that nap you suggested."

She slipped on her shoes as he got in bed. "And I'm going to take your keys and ID and get my books so I'll have something to do while I'm here."

"I'm fine, Caitlin."

"We established that at the party, stud."

He couldn't help laughing. "You know what I meant."

"Yeah, well, I'm a full-service caretaker of drunks. I clean the during and after messes. This is one big after mess."

"Yeah."

"Besides," she said as she picked up the trash and headed for the door, "it seems like you could use a friend."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." She gently closed the door behind her.