OK, being brain-dead as I have been lately, I totally forgot to thank Lucy for her help in the last chapter. Lucy! Thanks!

Again, don't own 'em so please don't sue. Enjoy!

John shifted the package of flowers in his arms as he stared up at the apartment building in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he walked up the stairs and pressed the buzzer.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again.

Still nothing.

"C'mon Christa, answer the door." John pressed the buzzer once more, then leaned his forehead against the wall and sighed.

"Excuse me."

John's head snapped up and he turned. A small elderly lady carrying two bags of groceries, smiled up at him. "If you're looking for Christa, she won't be home for a few more hours yet. She told me she was working late today."

John sighed. "Thank-you. Can I leave these for her?" He indicated the flowers.

The woman smiled. "You must be John."

John frowned in puzzlement. "Yes ma'am."

"Christa often speaks of you. I'm Elsie Shapiro. Why don't you come in and wait for her."

"I wouldn't want to be a bother." John told her, shaking his head.

"You'd be no bother. Come." She shuffled past him and struggled to hold her bags and find her key.

"Here, let me take those." John quickly took the bags from her and she smiled gratefully and opened the door. He followed her inside and up the stairs. He'd been to Christa's apartment a few times, and knew she shared the building with two other people.

Mrs. Shapiro led John to her door and he waited as she opened. "Well dear, are you coming in?"

John smiled and stepped inside. The apartment was furnished much the way he had imagined it would be, with large overstuffed couches and lace doilies. He bit back a chuckle as he followed Mrs. Shapiro into the kitchen.

"Thank-you dear, you can put them on the table." She bustled around the kitchen, putting her groceries away. "Would you like something to eat John?"

"No thank-you ma'am. I wouldn't want to be any trouble." He smiled. "I'll just leave these at Christa's door and be on my way."

"You will do no such thing. Sit yourself down and wait for her."

"Really Mrs. Shapiro, I can just come back later."

"Nonsense, you're too thin. Sit." She said firmly, waiting until John had seated himself at the table. "Good. Christa has been moping around for nearly a week now. You stay here and have a talk with her." Mrs. Shapiro opened the cupboard and began tossing ingredients into a bowl. "I'll make up some nice molasses cookies while we wait for her."

"Ma'am, you don't have to do that, I'm fine." John tried protesting once more, but she shot him a steely glare and turned back to her cooking. A few moments later, she had the cookies on a pan and went over to the oven.

"Oh dear."

John looked up. "What's wrong?"

"My oven again. It's been acting up for over a month now, and I've told the super, but…" Her voice trailed off and she sighed wistfully.

John got to his feet. "Let me take a look." He started peeling off his jacket.

"No no, I couldn't let you. Your shirt will—"

But John had pushed her gently aside and was peering into the stove. "Do you have any tools?"

"Yes, but…" She shook her head and went into the other room, returning a few minutes later with a pink toolbox. John arched an eyebrow and she smiled. "My son gave it to me. Every woman needs their own tools." She told him.

"Of course they do." He pulled the racks out of the oven and bent inside.

Christa made her way wearily up the stairs towards her apartment. What a day… Hearing voices, she paused in front of Mrs. Shapiro's door and knocked.

The door opened a few moments later and Mrs. Shapiro's face beamed up at her. "Ah, there you are dear. Come in, come in."

Christa followed her into the kitchen. "Is everything all right? I heard you talking to some—John!"

"Hey Christa." John smiled softly up at her. He was seated at the table, a plate of cookies and a half empty glass of milk in front of him. His normally perfect hair was unkempt and his shirt was streaked with dirt.

"What happened to you?" Christa demanded, taking in his appearance.

"There was a slight problem with the stove." John winked at Mrs. Shapiro, making the elderly lady giggle.

"John was a love and fixed my stove." She frowned fondly at him. "At the cost of his shirt though."

John waved a hand. "I told you not to worry about it. It'll wash out."

"It will not. That's oven grease and God knows what else."

John rolled his eyes. "She's been going on for an hour now." John grinned as Mrs. Shapiro cuffed him lightly on the head.

"Go on you two. I'm sure you don't want to be stuck here with an old lady for company." She pushed them both towards the door. "Wait! John you forgot your package." She handed him the box of flowers.

John smiled and handed her the box, placing a kiss on her wrinkled cheek. "You keep them. In thanks for the cookies." She stammered out something and John shut the door.

He took a deep breath and turned to Christa. "Hi."

She glared and letting out a "Humph," turned on her heel and marched up the last flight of stairs. John followed. She unlocked her door, leaving it open so he went in, shutting the door behind him.

John watched as Christa stomped around the apartment, putting her things away, not even glancing in his direction. After nearly ten minutes of this, John's own temper began to rise. "Look Christa, I came over here to apologize, but if you're not even going to look at me, I don't know why I'm wasting my time." He snapped.

She whirled, her indigo eyes flashing angrily. "What do you want me to say John? You're the one who's avoided me for a week!"

"And if you'd give me a minute, I'd apologize for it!" John shot back.

They both glared at each other. Then Christa folded her hands across her chest. "Fine. Apologize then."

John raked a hand over his hair and paced the room. "Dammit I'm trying!" He sighed. "I'm sorry. I acted like an ass on the beach. You were only trying to help and I bit your head off. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "OK, you're sorry."

John's head snapped up and his blue eyes darkened in anger. "What more do you want from me Christa?"

"I want an explanation!" She marched angrily across the room, poking him in the chest. "You claim to be an astrophysicist, yet you know how to pull off a water rescue like that? And what kind of work do you do exactly that your lab is attacked by terrorists? Not to mention there is absolutely no way, no god-damned way, the World Police would have let you join a raid, money or no money. Who are you John Tracy! Who are you really?"

John's temper flared. "You want to know who I am? Fine! I'm a member of International Rescue. My lab wasn't attacked, my space station was. I was beaten, tortured and nearly died. The madman that did all this has some sort of ESP and has been screwing with my mind ever since! He's locked up, but there hasn't been a jail yet that can hold him and once he's out, he's going to come after me!" His eyes flashed dangerously. "There, is that what you wanted to hear?"

Christa glared right back at him. "Please, could you at least come up with a better story than that?"

John closed his eyes and clenched his fists at his side. "Forget it. Just forget it. I don't know why I even bothered." He turned and leaned his hands on the windowsill, breathing heavily, his body shuddering.

Christa watched him, her anger slowly melting away. She walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "John?"

"Just leave me alone."

"No."

"I went to the clinic." He said softly a few minutes later.

"What?"

He turned to look up at her, his blue eyes filled with an emotion she couldn't read. "I went to the clinic and had them take a look at me. Just to make sure." He turned back to stare outside. "The doc said I was fine, but he said taking a swim in an undertow probably wasn't the smartest thing I could have done."

"Kind of like jogging with a pneumothorax?" She grinned at him, getting a small smile in return.

"Yeah, kind of like that." He straightened and pulled her against him. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

She wrapped his arms around his waist and held him tightly. "I'm sorry too. You did know what you were doing." She looked up at him, her eyes twinkling devilishly. "Come to think of it, you did almost look like one of those International Rescue guys!" She teased. John stiffened and she went on. "You know, all take charge and go save the day kind of thing." She pulled his head down. "Very sexy." She said huskily, kissing him.

John relaxed into her embrace. "Missed you babe." He said a few minutes later.

"I missed you too." She smiled. "So those flowers you gave to Mrs. Shapiro, were those supposed to be for me?"

He grinned. "Yep. Had to suck up somehow."

"Then you'd better go get me more."

John laughed and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a slim box. "Will this work instead?"

She wore a puzzled expression as she took the box and opened it. Then her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh John…" John took the chain and carefully fastened it around her neck. She held the deep blue sapphire in her hands, and looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "John…This is beautiful. Thank-you."

He turned to look at her. "No Christa, thank-you." He bent down and kissed her.

She held him tight. "I love you John."

He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I love you too." He said huskily, his voice tight with emotion.

Christa smiled up at him. "Tell you what, why don't you stay here tonight? I'll cook dinner and we can catch up."

The tension eased from John's shoulders. "That sounds great." He watched as she sauntered into the kitchen.

See, she does love me. Take that you bastard.

Scott crept softly through the silent house. It was very late, or very early depending on your point of view, and he was in a foul mood. He idly rubbed his shoulder as he cursed to himself. Damn Virgil. So I take a few meds…it hurts dammit! And now I have to report to the infirmary every time I need a fucking aspirin. He found his way to the kitchen, opening the cupboards looking for the bottle of ibuprofen Onaha kept there.

"They're not there."

Scott jumped and whirled around. Gordon flicked on the small light over the table. "Evening Scotty."

"Jeez Gordon! You scared the crap out of me." Scott frowned at his brother. "Why are you up? You OK?"

Gordon got himself some water from the fridge and stiffly eased himself down in a chair. "I could ask you the same question. You've been avoiding me Scott."

Scott tensed. "I have not."

Gordon shrugged and took a swallow from his water bottle. "Oh yeah, then why haven't you been to see me since the accident?"

"I've just been busy."

"Yeah, I heard. Stealing now Scott? I thought you were above that sort of thing." Gordon eyed his eldest brother balefully.

Scott's face turned an angry red. "Shut up Gordon. You don't know what you're talking about." He started to march from the room when Gordon's voice stopped him cold.

"It consumes you. The need. No matter how much you take the pain never really goes away does it?"

Scott turned. "Gordon?"

Gordon shrugged and took another drink. "For me, it was morphine. It was hard to get and harder still to get off of."

Scott sat down across from his brother. "When?"

"After my hydrofoil accident. I spent an extra two weeks in the hospital coming off the drugs."

Scott was stunned. "Gordon, I never knew."

"No one did. Only Virgil." He idly made circles on the table with his water bottle. "It's not something I'm ashamed of, but it's not something I'm proud of either."

Scott was thoughtful a moment. "That's why you refuse the hard stuff when you're hurting…"

Gordon nodded. "I never want to become that dependent on anything again. It terrifies me that it could happen." He said quietly.

"Damn Gords…"

Gordon finally looked up, his coffee brown eyes locking on his brother's grey ones. "It doesn't make you less of a person to ask for help Scott."

Scott shifted uncomfortably, unable to tear his gaze away from Gordon's. "I...I can't…"

Gordon reached out and took Scott's hand. "Yes Scott, you can. Let us…let me help you."

Scott got up and nervously paced the room. He finally came to a stop staring out across the patio to the pool. "You'd help me? After what I did to you?" He asked hoarsely.

Gordon walked over to his brother's side. "If I can forgive you, don't you think it's time you forgave yourself?"

Scott took a shuddering breath and clenched his eyes shut. "Gordon…" He turned and faced his younger brother, his eyes haunted. "Please…help me…"