Okay, well the answer to the question I asked last chapter (what do 'the boys' parents' name have in common is: put the two together and what do you get? LacerAtemlacerate 'em. To lacerate is to cut or tear. Get it? Okay, so it was dumb logic, but what can you expect from a girl who has a conscious fear of guys in character suits? Oh, and did you get the name pun (Asunder)? Any ways, here's the next chapter. Poor Torn, his heart is broken! Luckily Kiera has a big ol' bottle o'glue!

Disclaimer: hahahahahahahaha!

So Sick

Chapter 5

Torn was having a very good dream. One that involved food, lot and lots of food. Tables filled to bowing with meats and fish and rice and pasta and vegetables. Cakes and puddings and pastries and...bacon? Why was he smelling bacon?

Slowly the long banquet tables piled high with delicacies faded and were replaced with the dark of his bedroom. The curtains were drawn and the soft comforter was slumped on the floor in a disarranged bundle. All was quiet and cool...but he could still smell bacon!

Torn opened his eyes groggily and turned to look at the digital clock. 7:07 am. Crap, he was late for work! He tried to get up, but he started to cough violently and had to sit at the edge of the bed until it subsided. He felt light-headed and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He thought about the what his secretary would say when he came in and started coughing up a lung. He could hear her now: 'Now you' ve gone and gotten yourself sick! I swear, you need to get yourself a nice girl to take care of you!'

Then he remembered the deal he'd made with Kiera. Looks like he wouldn't be going to work any way. Dang, that sucked. He didn't like not working; miss one day and his troops got lazy and he'd get out of shape. Well, sorta. Okay, so he wouldn't lose tone and his men would rather try to pet a metal head than disobey him, but still! He liked his job, and who wouldn't? Get paid to control thousands of men and have access to every new weapon that comes into the city? Hey, most people would choose that over flipping burgers any day. And he'd rather be yelling himself hoarse than do what Kiera would undoubtable force him to do: go see a doctor.

Torn was by no means afraid of doctors, or needles, or surgery for that matter. He just found sitting in a waiting room for an hour just to have your temperature taken and pay $150 for it was a waste of time. If you'd been shot, he could understand. But for a cold? He definitely had better things to do. That and he wasn't overly fond of having to take his clothes off in front of some guy with a clip board. What was that guy writing down any ways? Was he a total perv? And why could he still smell bacon!

The question pertaining to fried meat irked him the most. It had to be his mind playing tricks on him. And, due to his hunger, he wouldn't be surprised. Maybe there was something eatable in the cupboards to hold him over until he could grab some real food.

Slowly, very slowly, he sat up and put his bare feet onto the plush onyx rug. He was still rather shaky and took a moment to catch some equilibrium before he began to walk (if you could call his stumbling and plodding walking) towards the door. He almost stopped to grab some clothes; all he had on was the pair of jeans he'd worn the previous day and a fallacious old tank. He figured he'd need a shower any ways, so he'd change then. Right then, he needed to get something in his system. Torn exited the room and made his way to the kitchen.

Now he was sure he wasn't hallucinating; there was bacon! The closer he got, the stronger the scent became. He prayed it was the crispy pieces of heart attack and not the refrigerator on fire. The fact that bacon didn't fry itself hadn't dawned on him at this point.

Then he could hear someone's voice. It sounded like they were getting in a fight with the toaster. There was only one person he knew that would argue with a kitchen appliance. Well, he did know more than one, but only one of them would be at his house at seven in the morning.

"Kiera, what are you doing?" he asked, leaning on the door frame in mock casualness. Really, he was using it for support.

The girl being questioned jumped up and spun around from the counter, where she was trying to fix one very stubborn toaster.

"Way to scare me Torn! And I'll have you know I'm making you breakfast!" she told him, steadying herself on the counter top.

His face instantly brightened at the mention of food.

"So there was bacon? I'm not going crazy?"

"Well, I don't know about that..." she joked, but he was already at the food she'd prepared: bacon, sausage, eggs, fried potatoes, and, after she fixed the toaster, toast. She rolled her eyes and pulled out a carton of juice from the fridge. Suddenly he stopped eating and looked up at her from the circular cherry table.

"Wait, Kiera, where did you get all this food? Last time I checked, there wasn't anything in the fridge."

"Tell me about it," she said, pouring them both a glass of juice in two blown glass tumblers, "That thing was nasty! Seriously, I heard the mold growl at me when I poked it with a spatula!"

"But where'd you get the food then?" he pestered.

"Duh, the grocery store! I went this morning before I came here, and let me tell you, no one shops at six am."

"You didn't have to you know," Torn said embarrassedly.

"Oh yes I did. What's the use of a clean kitchen if there's no food in it?"

She popped a home-fry into her mouth and pulled an egg onto the matching glass plate in front of her.

"Kiera, you didn't have to go shopping for me," he reiterated with guilt.

"I didn't. I just bought a few things to make us breakfast. We're going to buy you some real food after you go to the doctor's."

Torn had almost forgotten about his appointment.

"You know, I probably don't need to go see a doctor," he said carefully, "It's not like I don't know what's wrong with me."

Surprisingly, Kiera smiled at him.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the doctor's," she asked with an eyebrow raised, "I never would have pinned you for a coward Torn."

It was a challenge.

"Of course I'm not afraid of the doctor's!" he protested.

"What other reason is there for you not to go?"

"It would be a total waste of time if I went," he countered, "Like I said before, we already know what's wrong with me."

She poured herself some more juice and looked at him scathingly.

"There could be some other problems you know. When you're over stressed, your immune system can get out of whack. I think it's a good idea for you to go any ways." she looked towards him for further argument.

Torn knew she was right; it wasn't a bad idea to see a doctor. Besides, it would make her happy. That was reason enough.

"Okay, I'll go. What time is my appointment any ways?"

She smiled The Smile, the one that made his stomach an Olympic gymnast. She pushed another egg onto his plate and happily responded, "9:30 am, so you'll have time to take a shower and other crap like that."

"Errr...," he started uneasily. He doubted she would leave just so he could take a shower. He did need one though.

"What?" she asked, "Afraid of water now?"

"No, I just, ah..."

When he started to blush, her eyes widened and she grinned, to his mind, in an evil way.

"Torn, are you afraid I'll walk in on you or something?"

Now he was really blushing. Just the thought of it...

"Of course not!"

"Then what's the matter?"

"Ummmm..."

When he didn't answer, she knew she'd been right all along; he didn't want her there when he was taking a shower. Precursors forbid she get a glance at his gun show! He was shy; how cute! She could have a lot of fun with this!

Kiera put on a face of mock insult and said, "What kind of perv do you take me for Torn? Do you think I'll spy on you from the medicine cabinet?"

His eyes flew to hers in alarment.

"No! Of course not!"

She was laughing by now and couldn't stop. Torn pouted- you know, that thing he does when someone makes fun of him- and got up from his seat...and promptly fell back down. Which only served to make Kiera laugh harder and gasp at the same time. Still giggling, she got up to help him to his room.

They made it to the door and sat him on his bed, where he crossed his arms and glared at the ceiling fan. Seeing his reluctance to forgive her, Kiera sat down behind him and began to unroll his dreads.

"I'm sorry Torn, I know you don't like to be teased," she told him, holding back a grin trying to surface.

He didn't say anything, but he shifted a little and tensed up.

"But what can I say, you're so easy to poke fun at, I just can't help myself."

She leaned in closer, causing him to suck in air quickly. She smirked at his reaction; it was adorable. He still didn't respond, so she continued to talk.

"Wow, you've got really thick hair, Torn."

"Okay, okay," he said, lurching up clumsily, "I'll get a shower."

She grinned at her victories; he was blushing and finally relenting. Slowly, he walked over to the chest of drawers and made to grab the first thing he saw, but she stopped him.

"Check the closet. I hung up some clean clothes in there."

So he then attempted to grab the first thing he saw there, but she again interrupted.

"No, you can't wear that! Try this," she said, handing him a deep emerald sweater and a pair of old khakis, "These'll look great against your deep skin."

"Come on, I'm not going to a fashion show!" he said, but he secretly glowed from her praise.

She rolled her eyes and gently shoved him towards the bathroom door.

"There's clean towels on the towel rack and I opened up a new bar of good soap. Take your time and don't worry," she smirked, "I promise I won't look."

He frowned and countered, "I never thought you would. What are you going to do any ways? I can give you my password if you want to log on my lap top."

"I need to finish vacuuming the living room and dusting. I swear, for a guy who's never here, you sure give off a lot of dust."

"Kiera," he told her, looking her sternly in the eye, "You don't need to do all this. I should be cleaning myself and cooking too. I-"

She interrupted him for a third time that morning.

"Torn, don't argue or try to stop me. I care too much about you to be dissuaded from taking care of you, since you obviously can't do it yourself. Now go take your shower and tell me when you're done; I need to wash the dishes."

She offered no room for argument and turned on her heal out the door. Torn watched her leave with a small smile on his face. She cared about him. Just the thought made him feel ten times better. He walked into the bathroom and felt a surge of guilt; it was spotless. Kiera must have cleaned it while he was sleeping the day before, and she'd done a great job of it too. It even smelled like apples (how he didn't know). Turning on the shower, he locked the door, just to be safe. He trusted her, but still...

Meanwhile, Kiera wrestled with the vacuum she'd found in a closet in the main hall outside his flat. She'd fixed it earlier, but now she had to move it into the other room. She felt fidgety. How could she keep her mind on de-dirt-ifying the apartment when one of the hottest guys she'd ever met was in a few rooms over, taking a shower? That meant he'd have no clothes on! Admit it: you'd squirm too. Finally, she got the laggard machine moving.

As the vacuum ran and sucked up all the dirt it stumbled upon, she thought over the events of the last few days. As soon as Jinx had left, she'd gone into Mother Hen Mode. Meaning she bustled around the apartment, cleaning and fretting over Torn. Then, when he'd calmed down and slept normally, she took in her surroundings more fully. There was no homey-ness in the flat at all; no pictures, or knick-knacks, or any real remnants of inhabitants besides dirty dishes and unwashed clothes. Personally, she liked the old Underground better, with its maps and drawings and lived-in appearance. And she suspected Torn did too. She had, however, found one picture when she had poked around in his desk drawer, and she regretted it. The picture was of a young man, no older than eighteen, dressed in a blazing red uniform, standing tall and hansom, if but a little thin. Next to him was a curvy red-headed girl, near the same age, maybe a year or two older, smirking at him while he blushed and looked back endearingly. The picture was wrinkled from a person looking at it often and showed signs of being kept in a pocket. Torn had looked so happy. Had he known what the girl next to him would put him through, would he still love her like he did?

Kiera finished vacuuming and unplugged the cord from the outlet. She wished she'd never found the picture, for it reminded her of two facts: Torn had been so happy with Ashelin, and she had put him through so much pain. Had he felt like his life was over when he'd saw that kiss? Did Ashelin even care? She sighed and grabbed the duster from the chair it was sitting on. At least now Torn would stop abusing himself for something he didn't do. Hopefully.

"Ah, Kiera, I'm out now."

She jumped and tossed the duster into the air, where it landed in a certain commander's hand. Kiera turned towards him and said, "Sneak up on me why don't cha!" All annoyance melted away when she observed how he looked then. She'd been right about the sweater and khakis.

"Ooooh! I love your hair like that!"

"What, dripping and messy?" he said sarcastically. He found his hair extremely annoying; it was too curly and thick to just get shorn and forgotten, so he opted for the dreads.

"No! Well, not wet at least, but messy is hot!"

He blushed at the compliment as she pulled him into his room again and sat him on the bed once more. She ran into the bathroom and returned a moment later, comb and a dry towel in hand.

"Torn, I refuse to let you put your hair in dreads today."

"Hey!"

"No," she reiterated, gently combing a knot from his thick locks, "You won't pull it back. Today I want you to wear it long. I refuse to let you deny your attractibility its rights any longer."

"Wait, huh?"

"Do you use conditioner? Or is it naturally this soft?"

"Kiera," he stopped her blushing and confused, "I don't know about-"

"Don't argue and everything will be fine. Believe me, I know what I'm doing."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, relenting his control over his life, if only for a day or two.

/an/

I like this chapter, it seemed so...fun. Okay, so it's not all that great, but it's kinda cute! I think. Maybe. Errr... R&R peeps!