They sat on the living room couch together, Cree and Maurice. Maurice stared at the television screen, unresponsive to Cree, who had her arms wrapped tightly around him.

Cree shivered and huddled closer to her boyfriend, searching for warmth where there was none.

"Maurice?" she asked softly.

He didn't reply.

"Maurice…?"

There was a long pause before he finally mumbled an absent, "Hm?"

"I…I'm so…. Why are…." She trailed off and sighed. "It's nothing." She continued to hold him, shivering.

---

It was that dream again. Cree was having it more and more often these days. She didn't understand why, and she wasn't even sure if she was happy about it or not. It always started with such sadness—that person kept running from her, and she kept chasing. Who could it be? Maurice? Abby? But how? She had them both; they were all together again, why did she still feel as if she were chasing?

And it always ended the same. She always lost her strength and stopped and was alone. And just as she lost all hope and was about to give in to despair, someone came to comfort her with a warm, loving embrace.

She stopped trying to discover the identity of her mainstay, she just drank in the warmth and the tenderness that she needed so desperately. And then for the rest of the night she would sleep peacefully.

---

Abby slouched in her chair at her desk, staring expressionlessly, eyes half-closed, at the calendar on the wall in front of her. Then she leaned forward, propping her elbows on the desk and resting her head in her hands.

It's not my responsibility to reconcile Cree and Chad, it's Cree's own fault for acting so weird. But still, she couldn't help feeling guilty. At first Abby thought Cree's awkwardness was due to embarrassment at her crush on Chad being discovered. But now Cree seemed so dejected all the time, and Chad—well, Abby didn't really know him well enough to say if his apparent gloominess was normal for him or not; for all she knew, he wasn't in love with Cree at all.

Where should my priorities lie? Ever since the onset of Cree's depression, her interest in fighting the Kids Next Door had hit rock bottom. Her interest in pretty much anything was at an all-time low. Meetings were become fewer and farther in-between. Cree hadn't come up with any new missions. Technically this was a good thing for the Kids Next Door.

But I can't just sit around and watch Cree waste away like this; it's wrong.

---

Abby answered the door and let Maurice in.

"Hi, Abby," he greeted quietly.

"Cree canceled the meeting."

"Oh, really?" He glanced at the door he had just entered, as if considering leaving again.

"But I think you should go up and talk to her."

"Why?"

"She's been really down lately."

Maurice looked up the stairs in the direction of Cree's room. Her door was closed. "Yeah, I noticed that."

"I think you should try to cheer her up or something."

"Me? Why?"

"You're her boyfriend."

"Technically. But that doesn't mean I know how to cheer her up."

"Just go up and talk to her."

"About what?"

"I don't know, whatever it is you guys talk about when you're alone."

He shook his head slightly. "That's the thing—I try to talk to her as little as possible."

Abby considered his answer for a moment. "Then…what do you do on dates?"

"I don't know; we go out to movies, or loud restaurants, or parties or something."

"Well, how about when you're alone?"

"I don't know, dating stuff," he answered, visibly uncomfortable.

Abby studied him. "So…you make out?"

He shrugged, tilting his head in a gesture that was neither a nod nor a shake.

Her gaze became more intent. "You…don't do more than—"

"No!" he finally shouted, pacing several steps away. "Of course not! Why are you even asking that?"

"So…what you're saying…is that your relationship with Cree is based on making out?"

He took a deep breath and let it out loudly. "No," he said in measured words, "our relationship is based on Cree's mistaken belief that I like her."

Abby frowned. Maurice's answer sounded harsh, but it was the truth, and she had always known it. "And you don't talk…" she murmured to herself more than anyone.

"Well, she talks to me, but I don't encourage it. All I need to know is what she's planning for missions, I don't want to know anything else. If she starts talking too much then I might start talking too much, and that would wreck everything."

She brooded over his words. Finally she looked up at him. "You're a horrible boyfriend."

He gaped at her with an expression that was both shocked and wounded, as if she had suddenly slapped him for no reason. When he found his voice he said, "I—I have to keep her close, but at a distance. This is my job, Abby, don't you understand that?"

She looked away to avoid the pain that was clearly in his eyes. "Yeah, I do."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"I…don't know. I don't know if I want anything from you. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have asked you to talk to Cree. You should…just go."

He stared at her, perhaps waiting for her to say something else. But she didn't, so he slowly turned and left, and Abby closed the door quietly behind him.

I have enough problems of my own, how can I even begin to try to solve anyone else's?

---

Chad rolled onto his stomach and glanced at his alarm clock. It was not quite 4 a.m. He stared at his window—at least the sun wasn't rising yet. Nothing's more depressing than when you can't sleep and it's already dawn. He attempted to roll over on his back again, but he had tossed and turned so much already that he was tangled in his sheets. Sighing, he extracted himself and got out of bed to straighten his bed covers. He looked at the clock again. He considered going downstairs to the kitchen to warm up some milk, but he had never found warm milk to do him much good anyways. He opted to lie back down. He took a deep breath and released it slowly then rubbed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes. Why can't I shake this restlessness?

He rolled onto his side. He found himself staring directly at the stuffed turtle sitting on his nightstand. He reached out to pick it up, squeezing it gently. He then lay it down beside him on his pillow.

"Hey, Speedy. What does Cree think of me?" he asked it quietly.

The turtle provided no answers.

He turned again to stare at the ceiling, and found he couldn't repress a plaintive sigh.

I…miss Cree. It was bad enough when she only thought of him as a friend, but now, now that she hardly ever talked to him, he realized how much her friendship meant to him. He never let himself open up to anyone else but her; she was the only one he ever felt that he could tell anything to. Well, almost anything.

And then there was that one fear, greater than he was willing to admit, that continually lingered at the edge of his consciousness, feeding on his insecurities: Maybe she finally figured out how I feel about her and now she doesn't even want to be my friend anymore.

That thought made him feel so horribly alone.

Chad closed his eyes. He was tired; he wished his brain would stop tormenting him; he wished sleep would come. Sometimes when he slept he dreamed of Cree. He would walk alone in the darkness, searching for her, and he would find her standing alone. He would approach her, and without saying a word, he would put his arms around her, and she never shook him off. Not once.

Chad opened his eyes at the sound of beeping, and squinted at the light. It was morning. He turned off the alarm and sat up. The last two hours went by in an instant. He picked up Speedy from his pillow, again giving it a light squeeze before returning it to the nightstand. After a moment of dazed inactivity, he got out of bed.

Another day. He hoped he'd make it through.

---
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author's notes: I'm sure the title tipped you off on how cheerful this chapter would be!