Disclaimer: CJ and Co. aren't mine, but Chrisand Dennis are. Yay!

Notes: This is the second installment in what will most probably be a three-part Chris-centric detour. I hope you like it; please let me know!. Without witchofnovember, this would not have been written, plain and simple, so thank her. You rock, friend. This is for you.

PS: The scene in italics is a flashback.

He didn't come with me.

I never imagined myself with someone like Chris, someone so vibrant, funny, fun. It's just, I'm pretty self-contained, and I never thought someone like him would stick around long enough to figure me out. But he surprised me.

In fact, till he said he wouldn't come with me, he'd pretty much never not surprised me.

"Mr. Hanley? You have a visitor."

I round the corner, look up. And stop short. Ir's Chris. He's wearing his brown cords, and that shirt he stole from me. It's a light blue one, with white, mint, and light red stripes. He always did look good in that shirt.

"Chris?"

"Hey, Denny."

"What are you doing here?"

"You, um, you forgot your shirt."

I raise an eyebrow. "You flew across the country to bring me my shirt?"

"Not exactly. I took the train. I hate flying."

"Ah. Well that explains it, then." I sigh, rub a hand along the back of my neck. "Come on."

As we walk down the hall towards his office, I sneak glances at him, trying to see whether anything's different. He's in impressive operative mode, so he's wearing his glasses. He's got on that really hot dark blue pinstripe, too, with the shirt that matches his eyes.

I love watching him work. He comes alive, in such a different way. He's in political PR, if that makes any sense. Non-profits, local governments, school boards, he knows everyone. I went with him to some glitzy gala in California once. I stood in the corner, sipped champagne, and watched him work. That slow smile that I delighted in came quick and easy as he worked his way through the room. Those strong hands hesitant to touch shook and slapped and embraced continuously. Everyone he met he treated to the genuine, warm regard that had so attracted me. And I learned, that there was much I didn't know about this man, and much I wanted to find out.

So that's why I'm here. Well, that and threats of bodily harm if I didn't do something.

JJ comes quietly into the living room and flops beside Becca. She smiles and runs a hand through his hair. "She go down okay, babe?"

JJ smiles. "We can only hope. She is a Lyman, you know."

Becca rolls her eyes. "As if I could forget." JJ grins and kisses her softly.

"You guys are sickening, you know that?" I grouse.

"Ah, Mr. Misery, how nice of you to join us."

"Shut up, JJ."

"Man, ever since Denny left you've been about as fun as a body wax."

"What do you know about body waxing?"

He casts a glance at Becca. "I hear things," he says smugly.

"Well, aren't you just Mr. Co-Dependent."

"Hey!" he protests.

Sarah starts to cry, and Becca gets up. "I'll go." She comes around behind me and drapes her arms around my neck. "I love you Chrissie, you know that, right?"

"Sure I do, Janet." I give her a kiss, and she leaves. When I turn towards JJ, he's regarding me seriously.

"You know, you have a history of telling me when to get my head out of my ass. The way I see it, it's about time for me to return the favor. So. Get your mopey ass out to New York. If it works out, great. If it doesn't, I'll be here with the beer."

So. Here I am. And here he is. And now what do I do? I don't have much experience with these heart on my sleeve type things.

He turns and faces me, looks at me expectantly. I swallow. "So, it turns out I've been kind of a pain in the ass since you left."

"How unusual for you," he says dryly.

I attempt a smile. "I know, right?" I push my hair back. "It's different, though. I'm all…mopey, as JJ put it. So since the kids are on break, and JJ threatened to kill me unless I got my ass out here, I decided to come."

"So, why, exactly?"

"Because…because I miss you, dammit. And frankly, that scares the shit out of me, but there's nothing I can do about it, so I thought…" I break off and stare at him.

"What?" he asks quizzically.

"I knew there was something different!" I exclaim. "The sideburns! You got rid of the sideburns!" Damn. He had really hot sideburns. Not everyone can carry them off successfully, but his were perfect, not too long or too short. Damn.

"Oh. Yeah, I did." He runs a hand across his face self-consciously.

"See? This is what happens when I'm not around. You leave for one month and you're already making these damn fool decisions…" I'm babbling, and he's looking at me oddly. "God, I'm an idiot," I murmur, turning away.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and face him. He's grinning slightly. "Well, that goes without saying," he quips. "But you're my idiot, and I missed you, too. So I guess you better stick around."

"Yeah?" I say hopefully.

"Yeah."

"Well, you know, good." Suddenly he's squeezing the hell out of me, and I feel better than I have in, well, forever.

Oh, God, what a day. Sometimes I just want to knock heads together, you know? I open the door to my apartment, looking forward to sinking into the easy chair.

Oh. Well. Forget that, then.

Between this morning and now, my apartment has become a disaster area. Stuff's all over the floor, and music is blaring from the stereo. Jeez. He just got here yesterday, for God's sake.

Tansy comes to greet me, winding around my legs. "Hey, love. What's going on in here, huh?" She just butts her head against my hand, wanting more attention. She's my sweetheart. Rizzo comes over, and I scratch him under the chin. "Where's Gremlin, guys?" Gremlin is, or was, a tough street cat who for some inexplicable reason decided to adopt me. He saunters over. "Hey, pirate. Didn't I ask you to keep our guest in line?" He rumbles a purr. "Okay, okay. You're forgiven. You guys hungry?" Still chattering to the cats, I don't notice the duffle bag in front of me, and I trip. Spectacularly. The cats look at me as though I've gone bonkers. "CHRIS!"

His head pops out of the kitchen. "Hey Denny! I didn't hear you."

"You couldn't hear me if I was standing right next to you, not in this din. Turn down the damn stereo."

He does so, carrying a carton of fried rice out of the kitchen with him. "Bad day at work, huh?"

"You could say that. God damn, Chris, get some of your crap off of the floor, would you? I almost killed myself on this damn bag, here. Jeez."

He's fighting back a grin. "Yes, Dennis."

"It's the least you could do, if you're going to be loafing around for the week, man."

"Yes, Dennis."

"Stop that," I say irritably.

"Yes, Dennis."

I rake my hands through my hair. "Dammit, Chris, I'm not in the mood."

He smirks. "Yes, Dennis."

"Arrrghhh!" Poor Tansy runs for cover. "Now look what you've got me doing. Scaring innocents." I look at him. He's laughing fit to bust a gut.

He wipes his eyes. "Feel better?"

"Oddly, yeah." I smile. "Now give me the damn fried rice."

We're lying at either end of the couch, trying to decide what movie to watch. "Four Weddings and a Funeral! That yummy Scottish guy's in that one."

"Hmmmm…"

"Or Braveheart might be fun. You know, we could pretend to be all macho while secretly hoping that somehow the wind will suddenly blow up Mel's kilt."

I can't help it. I snort, and laugh till the tears run down my face. When I look up, Chris is regarding me innocently. "Isn't that why everyone watches Braveheart?"

"You're impossible."

He grins. "I know."

He gets up to put the movie in, then sits back down on the couch. He squirms. And squirms. And squirms again.

"Chris, quit it."

"What?" he whines exaggeratedly.

"Just, you know. Stop."

"What?"

"Oh, God."

"But, Denny, I can't get comfy!"

"They actually pay you to counsel children?"

"Amazing, isn't it?"

I throw a pillow at him. "I'll say." He glares at me, and I have to look away to hide my grin. Hell, this is better than an easy chair any day.

We've been taking it slow again. Sort of, anyway. We see each other weekends whenever we can. One time we went on a picnic, went biking, played Frisbee and catch. Another time, we drove Go-Karts. We visited his mother in Brooklyn; she made me homemade lasagna, and we went to museums and wandered around the city.

This weekend, Dennis is coming out here, though, and we're going hiking. He's gonna love it.

Why the hell did I agree to this? When he said hiking, I thought he meant, you know, trees and birds and stuff, maybe a lake. Not scrabbling up rocks. I don't like it to get around, but I'm not much of a heights person. So I'm kinda on edge.

Chris, though, is in his element, exclaiming over every little thing. It's cute to watch. Except, he keeps showing off, climbing slopes much too precipitous for my liking.

Like now. He's ahead of me a ways, studying a boulder at the crest of a steep hill. Bad. Very bad. "Chris, come on, let's go another way. It's too dangerous. Danmit, Chris, don't-" He grins, and starts to clamber up. "You idiot!" I run closer, and look up just in time to see him tumble off the rock and down the hill.

My heart feels as though it's jumped into my throat. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

My eyes drift open, and I shift, or try to. My left leg doesn't seem to want to cooperate. Oh well. Suddenly Denny looms over me. "Denn? What's a'matter?"

"Nothing, honey. Just glad you're awake, is all. Go back to sleep."

"Okay."

Well, thank goodness. He got a spectacular bump on his head; they couldn't wake him up for a while, and then when they did, he was really disoriented.

So yeah, in addition to bumps and general abrasions, he broke his leg, and two of his vertebrae. When I found him, for a minute I thought he might be dead. But then, you know, rational thought took over, and I checked for a pulse. After ascertaining that he had one, I took out my phone. By a minor miracle, it had reception.

So now we're here. I should probably be calling people, but right now I'd rather stay with him.

Damn. All I can think about is what might have happened. How could he have been so stupid? By the time he starts tossing and turning, which means the medication's wearing off, I'm about as worked up as I've ever been.

"Hey."

"Hey there. How you feeling?"

"Hurts."

"Well, I should think." I debate the merits of letting loose, and finally decide to heck with it. I don't care how sore he is. "Dammit, Chris, I told you not to do that! And what did you do? You went ahead and did it anyway, and now look!"

"Sorry, Denny."

"Sorry. That's great. Just great. I…Jesus, Chris, I thought you were dead."

"Denny, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay, dammit! Do you know how easily you might have broken your neck? I don't even want to think of the crap you'd get up to in a wheelchair, man."

"You'd stay with me?"

"Well, yeah. I'd be pissed as hell at you for being stupid, but it's not like that's unusual, right? What, you think I let all of the good-looking slobs I come across stay in my apartment?"

"I guess not."

"Damn right." I sigh. "You scared me, Chris," I say quietly. "Try not to do that again, okay?"

"I guess I'm just not used to…having somebody to scare."

"Well, you do now. You scared me so bad you're gonna have to move in with me."

"What?"

"Yup. How else am I going to make sure you don't climb any more rocks? And if you do, I swear to God I'll chain you to the bed."

He attempts to wiggle his eyebrows, but his eyes are getting heavy with sleep again. "That could be fun," he murmurs.

"Oh yeah? Try it and find out."

" 'Kay." His eyes drift shut.