Yay, track is finally over! Now I actually have time to do things (i.e.clean, not that I will), including update more often! I hope. I'd like to take a moment to tell Namek Kaia to write her butt off! Seriously, if by some miracle you actually like this story everyone, check out 'Darker by the Day'! Or In the Dark.

Disclaimer: Think about it: me own ND?

So Sick

Chapter 6

Ashelin blinked up at the heckled looking man before her. She sat at the desk in her HQ office, looking over some documents for a new parking law and waiting for Jak to bring her her morning latte and for Torn to ramble off the morning report. She pushed aside the files and turned her full attention towards the man's pockmarked face. She was having trouble grasping what he'd just said.

"What do you mean, 'Commander Asunder isn't present today'?"

"Well ma'am," the man said in an ornery manner, "A friend called in and said he had obligations to attend to in Spargus."

"A friend? Who?"

Who would call in for Torn? Who would he let call in for him?

"I believe it was a Miss Hagai. Is that name familiar to you ma'am?" he asked without conviction.

The governess narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Why would that little air head call in for Torn? She stood up and addressed the man in front of her.

"Officer McKoy, did she mention what it was for?"

He looked unmoved by her obvious vexation.

"No ma'am, but I would assume it had to do with his personal life the way his secretary said the young lady talked."

Ashelin was even more suspicious now.

'Torn doesn't have a personal life,' she thought, 'I'm his personal life! I don't trust that mechanic. First she tries to win back my Jak, now she's turned her big, and ugly, green eyes on Torn!'

"I'm going to go check on the commander's quarters," she told the man, pulling on an expensive looking leather jacket and walking over to the door, "I shouldn't be long. If he comes, tell Jak to put my latte on my desk and I'll see him later."

She closed the door and left the older man frowning and mumbling.

/tk/

Torn blinked up at the building, frowning and trying to ignore the feeling of dread surfacing. The Hadfield-Everatte Memorial Medical Practice was a small, three-story brick building, covered in vines and brass fixtures. A plaque commemorating the two founders was mounted on a rickety park bench sitting near the entrance. It was a pleasant looking and shaded in the shadow of a large oak tree. Why was he so nervous at the sight of this amiable little building? Was it the fear of what was to come? A premonition of his diagnosis? The scent of rubbing alcohol and rubber gloves?

"Right on time."

He looked down and saw Kiera pocketing the keys to her zoomer (she refused to let him drive).

"Oh joy," he said sarcastically, holding the door open for her, "I was afraid we'd be late."

"Oh lighten up! It's just the doctor's, it can't be that bad. Haven't you been here before?" she asked walking through the open doorway.

"Yeah, once, for a physical."

"Did you like the doctor?"

"He was okay. Wasn't too fond of the way he said 'Say awww', but what can you do?"

She grinned at the sarcasm laced in his voice.

"Then call me clueless, but I don't see why you detest this place."

Torn shrugged and impatiently shoved the sepia waves away from his light blue eyes. He'd yielded to Kiera's wishes and let his hair free of its normal dreads. Which made him feel like he was fifteen again. Now his hair was constantly in his eyes an it was annoying him, big time.

As they entered the elevator taking them to the second floor, Kiera took notice of his dilemma and grinned.

"Torn, I love your hair like that," she said, leaning up to run her fingers through it, "Seriously, why don't you wear it down more often?"

He blushed and tried to shake her off. Stuttering, he merely shrugged and answered, "It gets in my eyes."

She, in turn, rolled her eyes and stepped back, much to his relief and equal dismay.

"Speaking of hair," she said, finger combing her own emerald locks, "I was thinking of getting a new hair style. Maybe some highlights?" She looked at him, asking for his opinion on the matter.

"Why would you want to color your hair? It's fine the way it is," he said with some alarm. She couldn't dye her hair! It made her her.

"Yeah, it's okay I guess, but I want a new look. I've had this cut since I was nine. Nothing too major, just a few layers I'm thinking. Hopefully it won't look ugly."

"Well," he told her quietly, "I think it would be impossible to look ugly, no matter what it was cut like."

The elevator, which had been going unusually slow that day, came to a stop on the second floor. Torn charged out of it before Kiera could fully get his meaning. When comprehension dawned on her, her lips curved up slightly and her cheeks turned a light salmon shade. Had he just called her beautiful? Or was he being nice? She prayed for the former.

Torn had already opened the door to the waiting room when she caught up with him. Inside were a few women sitting around gossiping and tittering about their wonderful husbands and the lovely floral arrangements they'd made last Tuesday. All eyes turned towards the latest occupants of the room. Well, one of them at least. Kiera had been right about the sweater.

She motioned with her chin for him to have a seat while she checked him in. He glanced wearily at the women seated in the corner and optioned for an uncomfortable orange plastic chair on the other side of the room, much to the ladies' dismay. Next to him were a few piles of magazines. His eyes glazed over the covers and read the titles: Hearth, Nutrifit Weekly, TV Guide, Techee. Nothing that interested him. One, however, did catch his eye. It was an old newspaper from about a week earlier when the governess had given a speech at the opening of the new Digi-dome, a massive computer lab in East Haven. He frowned and looked away. The picture on the cover featured Ashelin shaking hands with a group of nerdy guys in uncomfortable looking suits. She looked beautiful as always.

He could have sworn she'd been in one of his dreams he'd had after he'd passed out. He couldn't remember any of the details, but he wasn't getting good vibes whenever he thought of it. In fact, he wasn't feeling too great at the moment. His head was throbbing dully and his hair was still obscuring his vision. Not to mention he was hungry again and someone was looking at him.

"You're next."

Torn looked up to find Kiera seating herself next to him and setting her purse down beside the table. He glanced back down at the newspaper and back up at Kiera; there was no comparison. He sighed and rubbed his throbbing temples. He heard her stifle a giggle beside him and looked up to find her biting her thumb nail and looking amused and slightly annoyed at the same time. He quirked a brow and stared at her pointedly. She looked back at him and leaned forward with a smile.

"It would seem as though you've gotten yourself quite a fan club," she said quietly, glancing behind him.

"Huh?" he said in his usual intelligent manner. He did not know what she was talking about.

"Forget about it," she told him with a smirk and an eyeroll.

"No really, what do you mean?" he persisted naively.

She looked at him incredulously. Did he really not know he was the apogee of ruggedness? Or was he just acting infuriatingly modest? She just shook her head and searched her pockets for some gum.

Torn was highly confused and would have demanded she explain her meaning, had she not bent over to grab something from her purse. He was not a perv. He was just conveniently sitting next to her when her shirt rode up a little bit, revealing her very pale, smooth back to some extent. He couldn't control The Voice! Kiera, before his mind could get out of hand, popped back up, a pack of cinnamon gum in hand. She grabbed a piece and offered one to him, which he took gratefully with a hoarse "Thanks".

She nearly sighed out loud.Kiera really loved it when he talked, especially when it was in short, husky phrases.

'Note to self: remember to have gum handy at all times.'

"A Mr. Asunder," the woman at the desk called.

Torn stood up, with one last glance at the girl next to him, and walked over towards her. She smiled and pointed at a door to her right then said, "Down the hall, fourth door on the right."

He nodded and opened the door like a man walking to the gallows. He did not like the doctor's.

/j/

Jak winded his way through the people milling about the crowded hallway, a large Styrofoam cup of steaming latte grasped precariously in his hand. Daxter was perched atop his spot on the blonde man's shoulder, yelling out insults at those who bumped into them. Jak was looking exceptionally hansom today, his hair laying appealingly on his forehead and his face clean-shaven. The ladies noticed this and were pleased; the head commander hadn't been in his office today and they had been ultimately distressed at the lack of man flesh that morning since Jak had been late. The governess' boyfriend's new look, however, almost made up for that. Almost.

Jak stopped in front of Ashelin's office and sighed in relief; the coffee hadn't spilled. Ever since he surprised her with a latte one morning, Ashelin had been expecting to get it everyday and tended to get bitchy if she didn't. Hopefully it wasn't cold, she'd have a cow if it was. Cautiously, he opened up the door and peeked inside to find...nothing.

He sighed disgruntledly and looked up at Daxter, who in turn rolled his eyes. They walked inside and shut the door behind them. Daxter hopped off his perch and ran over to the desk, scurrying up it clumsily. Jak set the latte down on the coffee table by the window. It was not his fault if it was cold.

While Daxter went through all her drawers and played around on her computer, Jak glanced around the office, grimacing. He never did like this office. Every time he went in there, it reminded him of what had happen a few weeks earlier. And every time he was reminded of that, he got physically ill. He looked out the window, down at the people walking by HQ. If they knew what he did, would they call him their hero anymore? They'd already banished him once, why not again? At least now they'd have a good reason. He turned away from the window and sat down on the black leather armchair next to the coffee table.

He felt so guilty, the kind of guilt you don't feel until you're all alone and it's quiet. He felt regretful, too. She didn't hate him. How could she not though? He'd been a down right ass to her and yet she treated him just fine, not begrudging in the least. Then again, Kiera didn't know what he'd done that was causing him the most guilt; she only knew half the story. Hopefully, she'd never find out, because he preferred her friendship over her repulsion.

Then there was the matter of her new friendship. How could he not be jealous of Torn? He was her new "guy friend", the one he'd been back in Sandover. He should have been glad she'd moved on, away from his unworthy ass, but, come on, she was his first love!

Jak sighed again and looked over to his small friend.

"Dax, don't blow up Haven, okay? I don't think Ashelin would be too happy if we had to rebuild a third time."

"I'd sure love to see her face though," the ottsel responded shiftily, "Speaking of the well-endowed governess, where is she? Normally she's in here criticizing the coffee by now and telling us what needs done." he scratched his ears with his foot and looked back at his best friend. It was obvious he was having a lot of confusing thoughts and tried to make him see the humor in their situation. He knew Jak was regretting what he'd done to Kiera; how could he not? They'd been friends since they were kids and he'd sorta shaken things up. Daxter even put a little of the blame on himself. After all, he'd encouraged Jak wherever Ashelin was concerned when they were in Spargus and once even pointed out that Kiera hadn't tried to contact him at all. Then, when he put some thought into it, he realized she couldn't contact them. How could she have? It wasn't like Spargus had any connections to Haven, outside of a few undercover wastelanders. Daxter had been wrong and, what was more, he admitted it.

"I don't know where she is," Jak replied, looking at the clock over the door, "Maybe I'll ask that guy, what's his name, where she went."

He stepped out of the office and walked to the room next door. The name plate said "Off. J.N. McKoy" and Jak had to knock four times before a grouchy looking man made his presence known. The man looked him up and down once, frowning. Then again, maybe he wasn't frowning; that seemed to be the only expression he could make. He didn't say anything, just stared at Jak as if to say, "Yeah, what do you want?" Jak cleared his throat.

"Ah, hey. I was wondering were the governess is at. She's not in her office like she normally is and-"

The older man cut him off.

"The governess left to go see where the head commander had gone off to. She told me to tell you to leave the coffee on her desk and that she would see you later."

The man shut the door and left Jak wondering what the heck he was talking about. Did he mean Torn? What did he mean by "gone off to"? He and Daxter exchanged looks. They knew one person who would have the answer.

"Hey Lynn, what's shaken?"

The middle-aged woman looked up to find a bright orange ottsel standing on her desk. She smiled and saw behind him that Jak was with him as well. Jak was a nice guy and always gave her a nod when he went in to see her boss.

"Hello boys. I'm fine thank you. But I'm afraid Torn isn't here today," she said with some trace of uneasiness in her voice.

"Yeah, that's what we thought. Do you know where he is?"

The secretary looked around to check for eavesdroppers.

"Well, a friend called in and said he had personal business to attend to in Spargus. I'm hoping this means he's taken a bit of a break, if only for a few days. The poor guy, always overworking himself! I hope that girl of his is taking care of him."

Daxter looked surprised.

"What girl? Are you saying Torn, Mr. Tough Guy Rebel, has a girlfriend?"

He began to laugh, but was silenced by a look from Lynn, who then smiled slyly.

"No, I don't think he does officially, but the girl who called in made it sound like she would be with him. And," she whispered, motioning the two of them closer, "He's been leaving work for a few hours and then coming back later. I think wherever he goes, this girl's there too."

She was smiling now and it was obvious why: her boss was tough, but still a super sweet guy. It was only fitting he would get a nice girl to take care of him. That and he was such a good-looking man, it wasn't right for him to not be dating. Why, if only she were twenty years younger...

Daxter and Jak stared at her, then at each other. There was something odd in this picture...

/tk/

"Commander, is it all right if I allow your companion to come in now?" an old, weathered man with a pensive face asked Torn, "She seems to be rather worried and now that the examination is over, I would like to discuss my diagnosis."

Torn pushed his hair back nervously and looked towards the sheet attached to the man's clipboard. Did he really want Kiera to see what was on it? On one hand, she had been immensely helpful and she did tend to worry about him. He owed it to her to let her know what was wrong with him. On the other hand, did he honestly want her to worry more? What if there was something personal on that paper? He would throw himself off of the palace if Dr. Everatte mentioned anything about his reproductive health. Seriously, he had the key to the roof! He looked back towards the doctor waiting for his answer.

"Sure, let her in."

The man smiled.

"Ah, a good choice. I saw her pacing out there, she's nearly rubbed a path in the carpet!"

He chuckled and went to fetch Kiera.

Torn stared at his retreating back and sighed. What a visit this had been. He did like the doctor, however. He was a nice guy and didn't creep him out too bad with that clipboard. Torn just wished he'd told him more about his health. It seemed the doctor wanted to save everything for one big report on his health until the end. It was obviously his idea of a sick joke. Heheh, that was sorta funny, 'sick joke'. Get it?

Torn shook these irrelevant thoughts from his head when a mess of green hair appeared in the doorway. He would kiss Daxter if he made it out of here without being embarrassed.

Kiera took a seat in a chair the doctor motioned to and looked at him attentively. The doctor pulled over a rolling computer chair and made himself comfortable. He sat back and surveyed the two over his glasses, watching them like a great uncle would his favorite nephew and niece. Finally, he leaned up and grabbed the clipboard off the table.

"Well I must say Torn, you've really screwed your system up this time," he said in a manner suggesting they were discussing a ball game. Then, noticing their worried expressions, continued.

"Don't worry though, nothing time, rest, and a good amount of food won't cure. But I warn you Torn," he said, much more serious now, "if you continue to keep up this maniac working schedule, there will be permanent damage. I know it's hard to be consumed by your work and to pull away from it, but hear me out, for the sake of those that care about you, you must get health," he looked into Torn's blue eyes with his own striking hazel. His gaze was so intense Torn actually looked away first. Torn just nodded numbly. The doctor took this as a positive answer and smiled again.

"Now, what you need my boy is a small vacation and a lot of food. Your comprehensive report from your last physical showed you have a skyrocketed metabolism. I suggest you eat about five servings of protein, eight servings of carbohydrates, at least, and as many fruits and vegetables that you want. You need to get back at a healthy weight. My dear, Kiera was it? I'm putting you in charge of harping on this guy about his health," he smiled indulgently at the girl, "I'm sure you've already been doing that though."

Kiera smiled and pushed her bangs behind her ears. She really liked this guy, a lot.

"That's all I can really suggest at this point. Take a week off and relax a little," he stood up and motioned for the two of them to follow, "Betty will take care of the expenses, as you know. One of the many benefits of being a commander, eh? Free healthcare!" he laughed and shook his head, marching out of the door with Torn and Kiera preceding him.

Kiera glanced at Torn to find him avoiding her gaze. They stepped back into the stuffy waiting room where the women still sat chatting for some reason. Kiera smiled at the receptionist, who smiled back and called out as they left, "Have a good day you two, and keep healthy!"

After the door was shut, Torn took a cautious glance at Kiera. He wasn't sure how she would view this; would she think it was bothersome and was only helping him so she could sleep at night? Would she go all psyco and start force feeding him butter by the pound? Would she ever stop digging in her purse?

She pulled out a fresh piece of gum and folded it into her mouth.

"Well, do you want to go get lunch now, or go to the grocery store then cook at your place?" she asked him

"Uhh, aren't you-aren't you going to barite me and tell me how stupid I am for being stupid?" he replied somewhat hesitantly.

"What do you mean? It's not your fault you got like this. Well, it is, but you didn't do it entirely yourself. Besides, I'm proud of you."

"Proud of me?" he now questioned, stepping into the elevator behind her, "For what? Nearly emaciating myself?"

"No, for admitting you did have a problem and then doing something about it!" she said with her hands thrown up like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Now you're sounding like a shrink. Is this plan twelve steps, or did you cut a few out?"

"Shut up Torn," she said laughing against her will, "You need to take a thirteenth step: away from the sarcasm."

Even he had to grin at that one.

They continued out to the parking lot to fetch Kiera's zoomer. It was decided that they would go to the store and eat at Torn's.

"Which store do you like?"

"I don't care."

"Would you rather I take you to an organic health food store? Cause I could arrange that."

"Hey, I wouldn't mind that. I bet I could get a pair of Berkenstocks there. I always wanted a pair of mandels.

Kiera almost smacked them into a fire hydrant from laughing so hard.

"Okay," she said, calming down, "to the-hehe-health food store it is."

/an/

jeez, that took forever to update! Stupid finals! The good news is school is officially out for the summer so I will be able to write more than once a fortnight.