A/N: At some point this little story will stray from canon, but this is not that point. Anyone who comes upon this little fic is strongly encouraged to comment. :D

Jack saw stars. Pain, sharp and unrelenting, shot through his head. It wouldn't have surprised him to wake up in a hospital, the second Callaghan brother to be put into a coma in the vicinity of sweet little Lucy. The spots cleared quickly, leaving him hovering over her, hand covering his abused nose. God, she'd gotten him good, the pain reminiscent of the time Peter had walloped him across the face with a baseball bat. Jack still wasn't sure if that particular incident had been intentional or not. Peter was a tough case to read sometimes.

But this was Lucy, and there wasn't a shadow of a doubt that it had been an accident. Actually, one could conceivably lay the blame at his own feet, sneaking up on her the way he had. And now, she looked so damned apologetic, fumbling with the ice, he wanted nothing more than to ease her conscience. "Hey, how'd you get in here?"

It wasn't exactly what he'd intended to ask, but suddenly he was a man who asked questions with fairly obvious answers, ones that would probably inexplicably twist his insides around.

She was still flustered, tiny wisps of hair floating gently against her flushed skin as she dipped one more time to pick up the ice she'd scattered across the floor, popping up like a jack in the box to stare at him anxiously. "A key?"

Of course she had a key to Peter's apartment. It would have been strange for her not to, right? Almost instant, the image of Lucy snuggled up in bed, waking up at some ridiculously late hour, with his smooth operating brother flashed into his mind. It was decidedly unsettling. "Oh, a key. You stay here a lot, huh?"

Damn, it had been easy to misinterpret the feelings swirling around inside of him before. Finding her oddly likable while still entertaining a healthy suspicion could certainly be credited with the strange fluttering in his chest. But, at this very moment, Jack was accosted by a feeling that was irritatingly familiar. Jealousy.

He pulled slightly away from her, focusing on the ice melting in his hand, the cool water dripping down his fingers. He didn't know what to do with it. He certainly wasn't putting it against his face. And she was babbling about something. He hadn't really been paying attention, floored as he was by his sudden realization. He tossed the ice in the floor when she wasn't looking, finally regaining his normal attentiveness.

"... and you know, feed the cat."

His head snapped up. "Peter doesn't have a cat." The assertion was hastily made, and in all honestly Jack wouldn't have known whether Peter had a cat, a dog, or even some poor neglected goldfish. He hadn't had a lot of contact with his brother in recent years, but it seemed like a safe bet that the high rolling slick lawyer, wouldn't have time for a pet. He felt temporarily vindicated. Maybe he'd been right about little Miss Moderatz all along.

Meow. Well hell. The little gray ball of fluff stepped tentatively into the kitchen, and Jack, not for the first time since he'd met the woman standing near him, felt like an ass. It was like a dream to him, one in which he jumped to exactly the wrong conclusions.

He shook himself. He couldn't let this one little thing swerve him back to admiring her. It was a lot easier to find her questionable, than to let himself fall even further toward her. She still had some things to answer for. Well, one thing really. Joe Fusco, a rather large and loud thing. He followed her as she gently collected the kitty, setting the food on Peter's polished granite counter.

She couldn't have been here long. The oversized trench coat still hanging off her shoulders, a fuzzy scarf still wrapped around her neck. Had she come here immediately after work, concern for the feline the first thing to fill her mind after she punched out? The thought softened him a little, an amused smile on his face as he listened to her baby talk to the animal.

He liked observing her when she was unaware. The nervous anxiety that permeated her when she was in close contact with him or his family members evaporated, and he felt like he was getting a glimpse of the real Lucy. She treaded so lightly with the Callaghans, almost afraid that she would be rejected if she relaxed a little. It was strange to him that she could see it. His whole family was already head over heels in love with her. The whole family.

His dangerously wandering thoughts were interrupted by the harsh tone of Peter's phone ringing. She didn't seem entirely comfortable in Peter's place, and this was the perfect opportunity to test whether or not she really belonged here. Let's not forget about Joe, ok. "You gonna get that?"

There was only the briefest moment of hesitation on her face, and he was certain that if he'd blinked he would have missed it, but it was there. She returned to petting the cat, avoiding his gaze. "Oh no, I'm, uh, gonna let the machine get it."

The ringing continued as she pointedly ignored it, the animal getting all of her attention, slender fingers slipping through the silky fur. Dragging his gaze away from her delicate hands he reached for the phone. Maybe the person on the other line would be just as surprised that Lucy Moderatz was in Peter Callaghan's apartment. He brought the receiver to his mouth, his back to her. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Martha Andrews, calling from Northwestern Memorial Hospital for Ms. Lucy Moderatz." He sighed, once again flooded with the surreal sensation the he was in a dream, making all the wrong assumptions.

Turning to her, he held the receiver out in front of him, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. "It's for you."

Her surprised, but pleased little smile, tugged at him. A swirling in his stomach distracting him from the fact that she was now completely aware of his intent to unveil her as an imposter of some sort. Her fingers grazed his hand as she took the phone from his grasp.

He fidgeted while she talked, glancing around his brother's apartment. It was nice, a little cold, but there was a great view. He could see how easy it would be to bring a woman up here at night, let her look out across the city at all sparkling lights. Murmur some cliche yet romantic words in to her ear. Women would eat this place up.

Of course, his thoughts drifted back to the one woman who'd been invading them with regularity. Had Peter done that with her? Wrapped some diaphanous sheet around the two of them while they gazed out the giant windows after making love? The thought irritated him, and he pushed it away quickly, grateful that she was finally done with her phone call.

"That was the hospital. They say it's customary for friends and family to come down and give blood."

She looked hopeful, as if maybe this was the perfect excuse to get rid of him. She bit her bottom lip, in a way he'd come to notice. Was it a tell? Did she do it when she felt particularly caught out? The only way to find out would be to spend more time with her. Jack found the idea to be more pleasant than he would care to admit. It was in the name of looking out for this brother. That was all. He had to figure out what Lucy's game was. "Let's go together."

He wanted to find out all of her tells, to know what made this woman tick. It wasn't to get closer to her peaches and cream skin, to find out if it felt as soft as it looked, or to find out if the little flip his stomach did when she said his name was some sort of fluke. It was just for his brother. It was all really very simple. He certainly didn't want to know if her dark hair would feel like silk slipping through his fingers. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind.