A/N: This story is dedicated to my dear friend The Historical Hamster. I'm holding you personally responsible for this idea;) Thanks for putting up with my constant babbling about the Ice Dancers. Many rants have passed, and many more will come!

Disclaimer: If I owned Total Drama, then I guess all of my fanfictions would be canon…but they're not…so I don't…


Sunlight poured through the window, pale and watery-yellow as dawn lit the sky. Josée groaned, pulling her covers over her head and reducing the offending light to a muffled gray. It couldn't be morning already; she had only just fallen asleep!

I shouldn't have stayed awake so long last night, she scolded herself. Her mother, Mariette Voland, had been out late at a work meeting, and Josée had stayed up well past midnight texting her ice dancing partner and best friend Jacques.

Josée sighed heavily, her lungs aching as they pressed against her ribs. She knew better than to stay up so late before a dance practice day. If Jacques was anywhere near as tired as her, they would both be completely useless on the ice.

Too bad, she thought, forcing her eyes open. We still have to practice, and Mama will be upset if I oversleep.

Not waiting for her tired mind to talk her out of it, Josée threw off her blanket to greet the violently cold air of morning. Muscles straining in objection, she pushed herself into a sitting position and cast a squinting glance out the window. Surely it shouldn't be this cold already? Yes, it was autumn, but there wasn't even any morning frost on the ground.

It probably just got colder last night, she thought, yawning to distract herself from the frigid air pressing in on her. She blinked hard, trying to force her mind into alertness, then slid off her bed.

For a moment, Josée wasn't sure her legs would hold her upright. She put a hand on the edge of her bed for balance, glaring as the room spun around her. She had stayed up late, but not that late! She couldn't afford to be so tired.

However, despite how hard she tried to fight it, by the time she made it to the kitchen for breakfast, she was even more exhausted than when she first woke up. She scowled at her reflection in the toaster, attempting to scare her lethargic body into obedience.

"Come on, Josée, snap out of it," she commanded herself. The Josée in the toaster merely scowled back with an equally stubborn expression. Her muscles continued to ache and shiver; she just wanted to sit down.

Maybe if I hurry, I can take a nap before leaving for practice, she thought, though in the back of her mind, she knew that was pointless. It was going to take longer than a thirty minute nap to catch up on the sleep she had missed.

The clattering sound of high heels on wood floor interrupted her thoughts, and Josée instinctively straightened. Hoping she didn't look as awful as she felt, she turned around just as her mother entered the kitchen.

At first, Mariette didn't seem to notice her, for she walked straight to the kitchen table, several papers in hand, and sat down without acknowledging her at all. Josée waited a moment, unsure of whether or not to alert her mother of her presence, but she was too tired to think up any reasons against it.

"Good morning, Mama," she said, then winced; she sounded exhausted.

Glancing over her shoulder, Mariette's gaze locked on Josée and instantly turned scrutinizing. Josée fought the urge to squirm; that stare always made her feel like one of the dresses her mother was designing: imperfect and in need of modification.

"Exactly how late did you stay up last night?" Mariette asked, her words heavy with disproval.

Josée fixed her gaze on a spot just above her mother's head, pushing down her shoulders and trying to ignore the throbbing sensation it caused.

"It—it wasn't that late," she hedged. Her mother's expression darkened; Josée wished there was some place she could go where that look would never follow. "It wasn't the longest I've ever stayed up," she tried instead, though with the amount of guilt tainting her tone, she might as well have said she'd been awake for a week.

Mariette studied her a moment longer. "You look sick," she said at last.

Josée's stomach plunged sharply. No, no, no, that's not possible! But with the way her muscles ached, and how exhausted she was, and how the air was so, so cold… "I-I can't be sick," she stammered. "I have practice today."

"Which is exactly why you should have gone to bed on time last night," Mariette snapped. "You would still be sick, but at least you would have rested enough to go to practice."

Josée put her hands behind her back so her mother wouldn't see her twisting her fingers. "I can still go to practice," she said, hating how submissive she sounded.

"You most certainly will not," Mariette shot back, fixing Josée with a stare that she knew better than to argue with. "In case you've forgotten, you have a competition next week. If you end up getting worse, you won't be able to practice for it at all."

"Yes, Mama," Josée replied, suppressing a pang of loneliness. This meant she wouldn't be able to see Jacques that day.

"Finish your breakfast then go lie down," Mariette said, or more commanded, before turning back to the paperwork on the table.

Despite her trembling limbs and the way her muscles seemed to be tugging her toward the floor, Josée was glad she decided to stand behind her mother in the kitchen. Breakfast proved to be a lot harder than she was anticipating, and she doubted she would've been able to eat at all with her mother watching. She poked at her toast, wishing she had picked a smaller slice of bread; her appetite had left with no intention of returning. She made it halfway through before a wave of nausea swept in and she decided to stop.

After tossing out the rest of her breakfast, Josée trudged into the living room. She cast a subtle glance at her mother as she passed her, but Mariette didn't look up.

She's working, Josée told herself, pointedly ignoring the hollow feeling in her chest. She cares about me; if she didn't, she would have sent me to practice anyway.

Collapsing onto the couch, Josée let her eyes slam shut and retreated to her thoughts. I'm not that sick, she reasoned, as if some part of her believed she could argue herself to recovery. If I lay here long enough, I'll feel better. Then I can go to practice like Mama wanted.

The minutes dragged past. Just when Josée was starting to wonder if she even could fall asleep, she abruptly became aware of someone standing beside her. At exactly the same moment, Mariette's voice interrupted the stillness of the house.

"Josée, wake up."

Not bothering to explain that she wasn't asleep, Josée raised her head and looked groggily up at her mother. Mariette frowned, shifting from one foot to the other, and for a wild, ridiculously hopeful moment, Josée thought she was going to sit down beside her.

However, Mariette's unyielding expression never faltered. "I have another work meeting," she said, her voice taking a clipped, informative tone. "I'm leaving for the day."

Josée's stomach plunged in a way that had nothing to do with the lingering nausea. "B-but, Mama, you just had a meeting yesterday!"

If Josée could have kicked herself, she would have. The words had come out much more desperate than she intended. She might as well have tacked a pathetic "don't leave me" on the end of that.

"You wouldn't know the difference if you were at practice like you were supposed to be," Mariette snapped. "Do you think it's convenient for me to have you here today? I can't stop my own work just because you decided to get sick."

Josée blinked hard, crushing her emotions into a tiny, insignificant ball. She wouldn't let her mother see her as weak. "I understand," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, Mama."

Nodding once, as if that had been the response she was entitled to, Mariette continued. "I won't be back until late this afternoon."

Josée nodded wordlessly, trying to focus her attention on combating the sudden pressure behind her eyes. Without any further explanation, a goodbye, or so much as a backward glance, Mariette turned on her heel and strode out of Josée's line of sight.

The pressure in her head continued to build. Josée pushed herself upright, pulling her knees to her chin in hopes of staying warm. It was no use. The shivering would not be pacified, and this position was significantly less comfortable.

Good, she thought sullenly, listening as the front door opened then shut. I deserve to be uncomfortable after everything I'm putting Mama through.

Icy fingers of anger wrapped around her heart, but she was too exhausted to even fling a pillow across the room, let alone throw a tantrum large enough to let out the emotion trapped within her.

Josée didn't know how long she sat there shivering. Eventually, she drifted into a light, restless doze, but even that didn't last long.

At first, she thought there was a woodpecker somewhere nearby, because the rapping sound was just as continuous and annoying. But the longer she sat there, thinking dark thoughts about trees and noisy birds, the more convinced she became that it was something else. Blearily raising her head, Josée listened harder. It took a few more seconds before she realized the noise was actually knocking.

Mama's home! was her first thought, and that was immediately followed by, But it hasn't even been an hour yet, which brought up, She must have forgotten something, and that turned into, How long has she been waiting for me to open the door?

Panic lent energy to her limbs as Josée scrambled off the couch. She stumbled to the front door, each step sending additional aches up and down her legs. I failed her again, she thought as she fumbled with the key, her previous anger awakening with a vengeance. No wonder she doesn't want to stay with me.

Her trembling hands made re-hanging the key impossible, so Josée let it fall to the floor with a clink. She hastily opened the door, trying to come up with an apology that her mother would accept for being locked out for so long. As she looked up, the words instantly died in her throat. Standing in the doorway wasn't Mariette, but—

"Jacques?" Josée rubbed her eyes, vaguely wondering if whatever illness she had was giving her hallucinations.

"Ah, qu'est un soulagement!" Jacques exclaimed, relief crashing over his face. "You're a-kay!"

Before Josée had a chance to respond, her partner had stepped through the doorway and enveloped her in an enormous hug. She blinked, still too surprised to react properly.

"W-what are you doing here?" she asked at last, pulling back enough to meet his gaze.

Jacques paced back a step, but kept his hands on her shoulders, as if, now that he had found her, he was determined not to lose place of her again. "Looking for you," he replied, raising an eyebrow in a way that clearly told Josée she should have been expecting that.

And, she realized with a guilty jolt, she should have. I forgot to tell him I wouldn't be at practice! Aloud, she said, "I can't come to practice today." Confusion swept across her partner's face, and, anticipating his next question, she added, "Mama thinks I'm sick."

Jacques's eyebrows jumped closer together with concern. "Oh, je suis désolé, Josée," he said, giving her shoulders a supportive squeeze. "I know how much you hate missing practice."

Josée huffed, dropping her partner's gaze. Missing practice wasn't the only problem with staying home, but Jacques didn't need to know that. "I'm fine," she said, starting to pull away and at the same time realizing she didn't really want to. "I'm probably just tired from staying up so late."

"Well, it's good that you decided to stay home," he replied. "Though next time, maybe call me earlier?" He grinned at her in a way that told Josée he wasn't actually upset.

"I forgot," she mumbled.

Jacques opened his mouth to respond, then interrupted himself as something else seemed to occur to him. He glanced over her head down the hall. "Where's your mum?" he asked.

It was a valid question. Seeing as Mama yelled at Jacques pretty much every time he came to the Voland household, Josée could understand why he was wondering that. What she couldn't understand was why it abruptly made her so angry.

"She had another meeting," she replied shortly, muscles yelping in protest as she crossed her arms.

Righteous indignation settled over Jacques's face. "She left you here alone?" he demanded.

His words resurrected the headache that Mama's departure had caused, and Josée glared at him. "Why shouldn't she?" she snapped. "She can't stop her own work just because I decided to get sick." The words sent a shiver of déjà vu up her spine, but she chose to ignore it.

Jacques's expression softened. "Josée, you didn't 'decide to get sick'," he replied, emphasizing his words with air quotations.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered, blinking hard.

Something cold brushed her face, and Josée instinctively flinched away before realizing it was only Jacques. He frowned thoughtfully.

"You're warm," he informed her. "Maybe you should rest for a while."

Josée glanced briefly over her shoulder, picturing the solitary couch back in the living room. She swallowed hard; he was right, and she knew it. But she would stand there all day before voluntarily going back to that cold isolation.

"I don't need to rest," she said, pouring as much energy into her voice as she could and hoping Jacques wouldn't notice how fake it sounded. "I'm not that sick."

Jacques raised an eyebrow at her, and Josée suddenly found it difficult to look him in the eye. She glanced past him out the door. Jacques's obnoxiously yellow sports car was parked a bit crookedly alongside the curb, testifying to how anxious he had been to find her. As she stared at it a moment longer, she was struck by an idea.

"Jacques!" she said, turning to her partner with a fleeting pulse of genuine energy. "You can drive me!"

"Eh?" Jacques replied, his eyes clouding. "Drive you? To where?"

"To the rink," Josée explained impatiently; surely this should be obvious to him! "So we can practice."

"Josée, you are not serious," Jacques said, his expression landing somewhere between skepticism and disbelief. "You cannot go to the rink today! You are too sick."

Her mental images of practicing hard and impressing her mother promptly evaporated. She scowled up at Jacques. "I'll be the one to tell you how sick I am," she retorted. "And I'm telling you that I'm fine."

Jacques scowled back. "You are not fine," he insisted. "And I am not driving you anywhere."

"Unless driving me crazy counts," Josée growled. Not waiting for his response, she lunged forward, ducking past him onto the porch.

"Josée—!"

He needn't have bothered. The moment she stepped over the threshold, Josée knew she had no hopes of making it to the car, let alone the ice rink. A biting, autumn wind rushed at her, sending a violent wave of shivering up her spine. Josée wrapped her arms around herself, but they offered no warmth or protection from the wind. She turned slowly back to Jacques, hoping he would attribute her burning red face to just the cold.

"Ai, Josée," Jacques said softly, stepping out beside her. "You make these things a lot harder than they have to be."

Josée tensed in an unsuccessful attempt to halt her shivering. The porch floorboards were beginning to blur. Jacques wrapped an arm around her, and she reflexively leaned into him.

I should argue, her mind pointed out. I should make him take me to practice.

But she didn't, which was frustrating because she didn't know why. Maybe it was because she was tired. Or maybe she just felt awful. Or maybe because Jacques was such a warm, solid presence beside her, and she really didn't want to fight with him. Whatever it was, she let him guide her back inside and didn't object when he shut the door behind them.

Silence settled over the house, broken only by the sound of the wind whipping through the trees outside. Josée took a deep breath, shoving her emotions down, down…gone.

"Josée."

Startling as Jacques's voice broke the silence, Josée finally noticed that she was still shivering. She pressed against her partner, the only source of warmth she had in the cold house, and tilted her chin up a bit so he would know she was listening.

"You should go sit down," he continued. "You will only feel worse standing here."

Josée cast a glance down the hall. "I'm really not that sick," she tried again, though the excuse sounded weak even to her own ears.

Jacques seemed to sense she was tired of arguing, and, without waiting for any further comment, he bent down and swept her off her feet.

"Oof—Jacques!" Josée whined, shoving half-heartedly against her partner's chest. "I'm perfectly capable of walking down the—"

"Shush," he interrupted with an aggravating amount of satisfaction. "I carry you like this all the time when we're dancing, and you don't complain then."

"We're not dancing," Josée huffed, shifting to rest her head against his shoulder. She could picture the contented smile on his face. "And stop smiling like that."

Jacques let out a bark of laughter that told her she had correctly guessed his expression. When they reached the living room, he put her down in the same corner of the couch where she had sat earlier. Josée shivered as the frigid air rushed to take Jacques's place. She straightened, determined not to look as sick as she felt.

Jacques regarded her for a moment before speaking. "I'm going to call my maman and tell her where I am," he said.

"Jacques, no!" she protested. Calling his mother meant Jacques was intending to stay, and she shouldn't want that. I'm a professional, she inwardly grumbled. I don't need to be coddled. I'll be perfectly fine staying here alone until Mama comes home. Her chest tightened uncomfortably, and she did her best to dismiss it.

She turned to Jacques, intending to make him stop, only to find he had taken a few steps away and now had his back to her. "Jacques—"

"Bonjour, Maman!" Jacques interrupted as if he hadn't heard.

Josée puffed out her cheeks as she sighed, sinking back against the couch. A tiny spark of relief bloomed within her, and she hastily stamped it out. She shut her eyes, listening not so much to Jacques's words as to the sound of his voice filling the house.

"Oui, I found her. Non, I'm not driving her to the rink, she's sick."

Exhaustion tugged at Josée's mind as her partner explained the situation. Jacques is here now. It wasn't so much a coherent train of thought as a subtle feeling, but it brought a clear sense of calm. She wasn't alone anymore; she hated being alone.

The weight on the couch cushion shifted, and Josée opened her eyes to see that Jacques had sat down beside her. Blinking in an attempt to brush off the cobwebs in her brain, she frowned at him.

"Why are you so annoying?" she sighed.

Jacques gave her a mock-injured look. "How am I annoying?" he asked innocently. "By wanting to stay with you while you are sick?"

Josée huffed, hastily deciding to change tact. "You're going to get sick, too," she said. "Then we'll be out of practice even longer."

He offered an unconcerned shrug. "We don't know that," he pointed out, which, Josée knew, was true. Despite his constantly-occurring injuries, Jacques rarely got sick.

Sighing, Josée rested her chin on her knees. "Fine," she muttered. "You can stay. But you better be gone before Mama gets back."

"Which is when?" Josée didn't miss the note of apprehension in his voice.

"Not until later this afternoon," she said. The words didn't feel as lonely as she had been expecting; in fact, they were a bit relieving.

Jacques relaxed. "A-kay," he said. "Just give me a warning when she's close. You know…so I can run."

Josée couldn't help the faint smile that leapt to her face.

"But until then," her partner continued, fixing her with an almost comically stern expression. "You need to take a nap."

"Quit fussing," Josée countered, swallowing a yawn. "I could take a nap if you'd stop talking."

"A-kay, I'll stop talking, then," Jacques replied sweetly.

She tried to narrow her eyes at him, but it was getting harder to stay alert. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Josée, I would never enjoy seeing you sick," Jacques protested, scooting closer and looping an arm around her.

"You know what I mean," she yawned, resting her head on his shoulder.

Jacques merely replied with a soft laugh. Josée felt her mind slipping farther as she settled more comfortably against him. She wasn't alone anymore now. With Jacques around, she wouldn't have to worry about that at all. He wouldn't abandon her just because she got sick. He wouldn't even abandon her if she got silver, or worse, bronze, in some future competition.

And sitting there with Jacques, in the silence of the not-so-cold-anymore house, the ache in her muscles suddenly felt bearable. Rest would come easier now.


A/N: Josée kinda strikes me as the kind of person who doesn't like to be alone for long periods of time (which is interesting, considering how much she pushes other people away…I could write a full analysis paper on this and not get bored). Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review!