Chad slowly surfaced to consciousness. He resisted—something in his mind told him it was better where he was, in the insentient void. But he woke in spite of himself.

He opened his eyes to view an excess of pink. He stared at it without comprehension for a moment then closed his eyes again, deciding that he was dreaming.

"Chad?" came her voice somewhere off to the right.

He smiled inwardly. He was definitely dreaming.

He felt himself slipping back into the void when a hand—her hand reached out and touched his own that was resting on his stomach.

She shook him lightly. "Chad? Chad, wake up."

Again his body was reluctant to do so, and he squeezed his eyes tighter shut in refusal.

"Chad," she persisted, jiggling his hand.

With some effort he lifted his other hand and placed it on top of hers, holding it still.

He heard her let out a little chuckle, but at the same time there was a small snicker from the other side of the room. One that he knew only too well. What the hell is that bastard doing in my dream?

He opened his eyes again. Again he saw large quantities of pink, but this time Cree was in his field of vision, peering at him.

She smiled. "Welcome back."

He still hadn't released her hand, sandwiched between two of his own, and didn't intend to. He simply gazed at her, vaguely wondering where they were.

She pulled her hand away. Chad's then felt oddly lonely. His eyelids lowered, no longer feeling the need to keep awake.

"Chad," she said again, her voice sounding a little worn.

"Maybe you should leave him alone."

For once, Chad agreed with Maurice.

"He should at least drink something. It's not like my house comes equipped with saline and IVs, and at this point I can't tell if he's just tired or in some kind of dehydrated coma. Besides, this is my bed!"

That at least answered the question of where they were.

"Chad," she said with increasing insistency. "Drink this."

With greater difficulty than before, he opened his eyes, again seeing Cree come into focus, and all the pink, which he now identified as the canopy of her bed. Cree was holding a mug up to him. He stared at it wearily.

"Can you sit up? Maurice, come over and help pull him up."

"I can sit up," Chad croaked, struggling to do so. He did not want the assistance of Maurice. Though he felt he was being bound down with metal bands, he eventually managed to prop himself up.

Cree immediately shoved the cup to his lips, and he took it and drank. It was filled with a warm liquid. After several large swallows he choked on something, and realized there were bits of things in it. Further inspection proved that he was drinking some kind of noodle soup. A couple gulps later, and he was able to taste it. Chicken.

He hadn't quite finished, but he was feeling very drowsy. He moved to place the cup on the nightstand, missing, causing Cree to leap forward to catch it. Then he lay back down and sank once again into nothingness.

---

Chad opened his eyes. He saw the pink canopy and recalled where he was. His mind finally cleared of the confused fog it was shrouded in earlier, and he remembered—

The fire. What had happened after he blacked out?

He sat up. Or rather, he tried to, but his muscles weren't being cooperative. He felt as though an entire angry mob had gathered around to kick him repeatedly. But he managed, and once he was up he saw the other two. To the right was Cree, seated at her desk with her back to him. To his left, sitting in a cushioned chair near the door, was Maurice. Unfortunately, it was Maurice who noticed Chad first.

"Cree," he said.

"What is it, honey?"

Chad was too busy staring at the glass of water on the dresser next to Maurice to be too bothered by her pet names.

"He's up."

Cree turned. "Oh! How are you feeling, Chad?"

He meant to say "fine," but "thirsty" was the first word out of his mouth.

"You must be," she smiled understandingly. "Maurice, would you mind giving Chad your water?"

Maurice didn't seem overly pleased with the suggestion, but he picked up the glass and walked over to the bed.

Chad regarded the water coldly, which had suddenly become far less attractive. He didn't want to accept any favors from Maurice. Not to mention the fact that Cree had called it 'Maurice's water,' which probably meant it was swarming with his cooties. When the glass was held out to him, Chad muttered, "I don't want it."

"Chad, don't be such a baby," Cree reproved.

"I'll get my own."

Maurice just scowled at him and pulled the glass away, then very deliberately took several large swallows of it.

"What is wrong with you?" Cree demanded

Chad at first thought the object of her aggravation was her boyfriend, but he then realized it was himself.

"Nothing," he replied, defensive. "I can get my own water." He moved painfully to the edge of the bed.

"Maurice saved your life, you know. He's the one who dragged you out of the fire after you passed out."

For several seconds Chad did nothing but sit very still as this information sank in. Then he started shaking, and turned to face Cree. "He did what!"

"You heard me. He saved your life."

Chad felt his throat closing up. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. He owed his life to the one person on the planet that he hated the most? He shook his head, a tight, rigid shake. "No," he said, as if he could deny it. "No."

"Aren't you going to thank him for saving you life?" Her voice was that of a stern parent urging her child to develop social graces.

Maurice meanwhile had taken several steps back. To his credit, he didn't look smug at all, but very uncomfortable. "That's okay, Cree."

"It's not okay," Cree said, the anger growing in her voice. She leaned forward, propping her hands on the bed. "Chad, all this time you've refused to be friends with Maurice. He's just saved your life. Aren't you going to be friends with him now?"

Chad's face had hardened into a resolute scowl. "No."

The sound of her hand across his cheek rang in the room. "I can't believe you! He saved both our lives!" She stalked out, slamming the door behind her.

Chad just sat, in shock. Maurice seemed equally stunned and lingered indecisively for a moment, avoiding looking at the other, before also exiting.

Chad crumpled into a small, miserable heap. He wished he could erase the last ten minutes, or better yet, the entire last day. He wished that he were anywhere but there. He wished he were in his own bed so he could curl up and sleep and forget that whole horrible day.

Why had Maurice saved his life? Chad hated him with a burning fury and doubted highly that he would do the same if the situations were reversed. He bitterly wished that Maurice had left him to die, he wished that he had never come back to save—

But that wasn't true. Maurice had saved Cree's life as well. Chad knew the situation at the Plant had been grim, he felt that he was facing death; chances of ever getting out of there were slim. He had given up hope. He had returned Cree's facemask because of his final, pathetically selfish wish—he didn't want to watch Cree die.

Chad sunk his head into his hands. Worthless loser….

---

Maurice lingered outside of Numbuh Five's closed door. He wondered if she were inside. Back when they were both in Sector V, she used to split her nights fairly evenly between her home and the Treehouse. He wouldn't be surprised if she spent more time over there these days.

He needed to talk to someone, and Abby was the only one who could come close to understanding. He felt…guilty. It was his fault that Cree had almost died. He never meant to put her in that kind of danger. He thought back to their times in Sector V. Cree had saved his life more times than he could count. He had admired her a great deal in those days. Why had she changed so much?

And now he had to deceive her on a daily basis. But she deserved it, right? She had betrayed the organization that they had all worked so hard to defend, she had become the very thing they had fought against.

I'm doing the right thing. I'm doing the right thing, he kept repeating to himself.

But then why the uncertainty? Why did he feel the need to see Abby, to pour his heart out to her and ask, "Am I doing the right thing?" Why did he need her approval?

A sound from behind him made him start. He turned to see Chad leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath. He looked in bad shape, and his cheek was still slightly red from where Cree had slapped him. Chad was staring at a point somewhere off to the left. Maurice shifted uncomfortably and decided to leave, heading for the stairs.

"Wait," said Chad, still gulping for air.

Maurice stopped and faced him, awaiting the coming insult, jibe, or accusation. At least this time I probably deserve it.

Panting for breath and clearly in pain, Chad focused on the floor at Maurice's feet. He said only one word: "Thanks."

Maurice gaped at him, having no idea how to reply. So he just nodded at the other, and then headed quickly down the stairs.

An interaction with Chad where he wasn't a complete jerk. Surprise, surprise.

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author's notes: what can i say? Chad's life sucks. a lot. but hey, he's not dead!