I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator, Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story. (Bet that comes as a great surprise to y'all.)

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.
A/N: Beta credit for this chapter goes to the audacious, pennylayne. Her outstanding writing can be viewed here at Fan Fiction, The Refuge, and at the x wondertwins x LJ.
C-24 Racing Against Time

Most of the kids from the party were gone, and those who remained were milling around the patio, watching Itey being secured into the ambulance.

"Well, I'll say one thing," Irish sighed, trying to break the tension. "You people sure throw exciting parties."

"We do try." Skittery nodded. He'd been standing with his arm draped easily over her shoulder, but now dropped it to her waist and moved closer. "And besides, I told you, that the Callo house can get pretty crazy when we're all home at the same time. You should keep that in mind if you plan on being around here more often."

"I'll take that under advisement," Irish replied, putting her arm around his waist.

David and Jack nudged each other and grinned.

"They're ready to go," Mr. Callo said to Skittery. "I'm going to take Reggie in the car with me and follow the ambulance to the hospital."

"I'll follow you in my car," Skittery said, pulling his car keys out of his jeans pocket. "I want to be there when Emilio wakes up so I can kill him. He was damn lucky this time. One of these days he and Dutchy are gonna--"

"Shit!" Spot shouted. "Dutchy! E-mail said that he and Dutchy scored a couple of hours ago. Has anybody heard from Specs?"

Skittery ran inside to the phone and quickly dialed Specs's number. "Come on, come on, pick up the phone," he pleaded into the receiver. "Hi, Mrs. Bergman, this is Skittery. Is Specs- -Huh?" Skittery pushed down the receiver button and dialed again.

"What did she say?" Spot asked.

"I dialed the wrong freakin' number! . . . Shit! It's busy." Skittery dialed Dutchy's number and it too was busy.

"Maybe they're talking to each other," Jack suggested.

"Or maybe they aren't even home." David added. "Anyone could be using those telephones."

"I've got to get to the hospital," Mr. Callo said to Skittery. "You go and find your friends."

"But - -"

"Giovanni, I know that you are a grown man now, but I'm not so old that I can't handle things at the hospital without you holding my hand. You saw what happened to your brothers. Do you want that to happen to your friends? Now, go and do what you have to do."

"You keep trying to get through!" Skittery shouted to Irish as they ran out the door. "Jack, you and Dave go to Specs's, and Spot and I will head over to Dutchy's.

Skittery raced across town with Jack's car right behind. Skittery sped past Specs's house on Third Street and continued toward Dutchy's. Jack stopped in front of Specs's, and when he opened the car door, he heard Skittery's tires scream as he turned the corner onto Dutchy's street.

Jack banged on the front door, but nobody answered. "The door's locked," he said, jiggling the knob.

David walked around the house and looked through the windows as he went. "I don't see anybody, Jack," he hollered. "I'm going to try the back door." David returned in less than a minute. "If there was somebody on the phone, there isn't now, because I can hear it ringing off the hook in the kitchen."

Skittery banged on the front door of Dutchy's house. All of the lights were on, but there was no answer. "Screw this!" Spot growled, taking a flowerpot from the front steps and breaking the glass on the door. He knocked the few remaining pieces of glass from the frame and then he reached inside and turned the latch. He and Skittery ran into the house calling for anyone inside. "Shit!" Skittery hissed, seeing that the receiver of the kitchen telephone was off the hook and hanging by its cord. "Dutchy!"

"Up here!" Specs screamed.

Spot and Skittery ran up the stairs and found Specs and Dutchy in the bathroom. Dutchy was unconscious and Specs was hunched over him.

"Jesus," Skittery breathed.

Specs was compressing Dutchy's chest and counting the way they were taught in the swim team safety class. "Twelve - thirteen - fourteen – fifteen," then Specs stopped and followed with two quick breaths into Dutchy's mouth. Skittery and Spot watched as Dutchy's chest rose and fell with each breath then Specs began the compressions and counting again. "One – two – three- . . ."

"Did you call for an ambulance?" Skittery asked.

Specs didn't answer. He kept counting, but he nodded his head, yes. When he reached fifteen, he again administered two quick breaths, and then repeated the sequence.

They heard the ambulance up the street, and Spot ran down the stairs to flag them to the right house. "Second floor bathroom at the end of the hall!" Spot shouted as the paramedics crossed the lawn. "Drug overdose. Cocaine, I think."

Jack and David pulled up to the house just as the paramedics were going inside.

Irish paced on the sidewalk in front of her house, waiting for her brother to arrive.

Jack and David had stopped by earlier to tell her that they'd taken Dutchy in an ambulance, but they didn't know anything more. They'd tired to get into the hospital, but were turned away. There were already more people waiting for Dutchy than the hospital allowed. They were going back to Jack's house and wait for Spot to call. Jack said he'd call her if there was any news.

After sitting by her telephone for what seemed like an eternity, Irish couldn't stand being alone. So much had happened that night and it was all swimming through her mind. She needed to talk to Billy.

"What's going on, kiddo?" Billy asked as he slid out of his car.

"It was awful, Billy," Irish gasped, as she tried to keep from crying. "E-mail was acting crazy and when they tried to stop him, Itey got
pushed through the glass door, and - -"

"Is Itey alright?"

"I think so. He didn't look like he was hurt too badly, but E-mail was crazy. They had to strap him down. And then Skittery and the others took off in their cars to try and find Dutchy and Specs. They took Dutchy in an ambulance too, but I can't find out if he's alright or not. Ma and Da are at a dance at the lodge tonight, and I didn't know what else to do, so I called you."

"Okay, kiddo, calm down. You go throw some stuff into a bag, and I'll leave a note for the folks saying that you're going to stay the night at my place. Then you and I are going to the diner and getting something to eat."

Irish barely touched her food as she told Billy about Dutchy and E-mail and the smarmy guy in the leather jacket who probably the one was selling them the drugs. "There's something else," Irish said, looking down at her plate, "but I don't know if I can tell you. I'm not really supposed to know. I - - Well, nobody told me. It's something that overheard at work. I don't want to cause any more trouble, but I think that someone should know about it."

"Okay," Billy said leaning closer across the table. "This secret; is it about your friends?"

Irish nodded, only glancing up at Billy and then back down to her food.

"Is it something that's just gossip, or is it possible that someone could get hurt if you don't tell me?"

"Someone already got hurt. A few people that I know of. And maybe - - maybe somebody else could hurt."

"Look at me," Billy said, squeezing her wrist. Irish's head remained down, but she raised her eyes to meet his. "I know that you don't want to repeat something that you overheard, but you aren't a kid anymore. You're old enough to decide whether it's better to keep this to yourself, or to save someone from getting hurt even if your friends might get angry with you."

"I have to tell you." Irish said, almost in a whisper.

Irish avoided looking at Billy as she told him what she'd heard Skittery and Specs talking about that afternoon in the diner. Her stomach
knotted, and she thought that she might get sick when she told Billy about what the Delanceys did to Dutchy, Specs, and Tony. "I heard
Skittery tell Specs that they tried to hurt him too, but he used a stick-ball bat on them. He said that he was sorry he didn't tell anyone
what happened, because now he wonders if not telling made it easier for them to hurt someone else. Specs said that he wanted to go to the police, but Dutchy wouldn't let him. And after that, Dutchy started taking drugs and acting all crazy."

By the time Irish finished the story, her words were coming out in whispered sobs.

"You did the right thing, by telling me," Billy assured her. "Your friend Skittery is right. You can't keep something like this a secret. Now, you sit here and drink your tea, and I'm gonna go call the station."

"You're not going to report this, are you?" Irish asked in a panic. "I mean, the guys don't know that I know. And you can't do that without telling them. It wouldn't be right."

"I'm not going to make a report. You told your brother what happened, you didn't tell Officer Callan. Just trust me, okay?"

"But if you're not making a report, then why are you calling the police station?"

"I'm going to see if I can find out how your friends are, okay, kiddo?"

"Okay," Irish sighed and slumped back against the seat. She knew that she'd done right by telling Billy what she'd overheard, but knowing she was right didn't make her feel any better.

"This Dutchy kid. Is he Adam Schuyler from over on Fourth Street?"

"That's him."

"They brought him by ambulance to Saint Basil's."

"I know, but is he alright?"

"I don't know. They didn't have any information. The officers that answered the call haven't reported back yet."

"Take me to the hospital, Billy."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, kiddo."

"Billy, please. I have to go. If you don't take me, I'll go by bus."

"The hell you will! The bus isn't safe this time of night. There are all kinds of crazies in that part of town."

"Billy!"

"Okay, okay. But you stick close to me, and don't argue!"

The strong antiseptic smell stung Irish's nose as they entered the hospital corridor. Men and women wearing green hospital scrubs and flowered uniform tops mulled around the nurses' station. They talked and sipped coffee and laughed as chaos circled around them. The sound of old people calling for assistance, children crying, and doctors shouting orders all melded together into a shrill buzz.

Several uniformed police officers were chatting in the hallway as though they were out with friends and not in a hospital. One of them looked up and nodded as they walked by.

Billy stopped to take out his police identification and hung it from his breast pocket. He squeezed Irish's hand a little tighter when he saw he fear and confusion on her face. "Wait here for a minute while I find out what's going on," Billy said, then walked over to a man who had a policeman's I.D. hanging from his pocket like her brother's.

Irish's eyes scanned the confusion as she leaned against the wall. She tried to read the expression on her brother's face as he spoke with the detective, but she couldn't. He didn't look like her big brother anymore. He looked like Detective William Callan. He was a total stranger with a familiar face.

When Billy and the detective turned and looked down the corridor, Irish strained her neck to see where they were looking. Her heart sped up when she saw them. Specs, Skittery, and Spot were sitting on a bench at the end of the hall. She broke from the wall and ran passed her brother. Billy watched her protectively as he continued to speak with the detective.

"Skittery!"

He looked up in confusion and then jumped from the bench when he saw her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling her tight against him.

"I got my brother to bring me. I couldn't stand not knowing what was happening. How are they?"

"Itey's fine. It was just a dislocated shoulder like they thought. My parents took him and Reggie home about two hours ago. E-mail is okay. He's in the detox ward. They're gonna keep him there while my parents make arrangements to get him into a program."

"What about Dutchy?"

Skittery moved Irish away from the bench so he could talk without Specs hearing. "I don't know. When we got to Dutchy's he was unconscious and Specs was giving him CPR. They reached Dutchy's mom and she's in there with him now, but nobody will tell us what's going on. The cops keep asking Specs questions, but they don't believe that he doesn't know anything. They act like we're all trying to hide something. I'm not sure but I think that we've been arrested. They told us to sit here and not to leave. I wanted to get Specs something to drink, but they wouldn't let me go to the coffee shop. I'm scared for him, Irish. He stopped talking after Dutchy's mom got here. He won't answer me when I talk to him or even look at me. He just sits there and stares at the floor. I
hope- -"

"Who are you?" A man wearing a sport coat and a police I.D. barked.

"Excuse me?" Irish asked.

"You heard me. Who are you? What's your connection to all of this?"

"I came to find out how my friends are."

"Your friends?" he asked acerbically. "C'mere. I want to ask you some questions." The man took Irish firmly by the arm to move her away from the others.

"Let go! You're hurting me!" Irish yelled, trying to free her arm from his grip.

"Get your hands off of her!" Skittery shouted.

"What's the problem, Craig?" Billy asked calmly.

"Back-off, Bill. This is my case. Go bother someone else."

"Lose the attitude and take your hand off of my sister," Billy demanded.

"Your sister?" the officer snickered. "Your sister is one of these freaks?"

"My sister isn't a freak, and neither are her friends," Billy said with a wide and disturbing smile. "Now, take your hand off of her or lose it."

The officer released Irish, but stood his ground. "This is my case, Callan, and you're interfering with my investigation."

"Wrong, Craig. This is my case."

"The fuck it is.!"

"Yeah the fuck it is! I'm senior man on the Sawyers investigation and this is connected. Now step back or I'll file a complaint against you."

"This is bullshit! I'm calling the Captain."

"Here," Billy grinned, flipping the man a quarter. "The call's on me."

"This is your brother?" Skittery asked, looking skeptically at Bill's long black ponytail and mustache. "I met your brother at your birthday party a few years ago. He has an accent like yours, but this guy sounds more like Spot. And your brother has light brown hair like your mom and looks like you. This guy looks like the scum Specs and I saw hanging around outside the pawn shop."

"I am the scum you saw at the pawn shop, and I am her brother," Billy smiled. "You're Skittery, right?"

"Yeah," Skittery replied cautiously

"I'm working undercover. It took a lot of practice to get rid of my accent so I could blend in. The hair is easy. I just let it grow and died it. You guys handled yourselves pretty good that day in the pawn shop. I had to fight from applauding."

"Your brother's a narc?" Spot asked.

"Yeah! Do you have a problem with that, Spot?" Irish snapped.

"Hell no!" he said pushing past her. "Sean Conlon," Spot said holding out his hand to Billy. "I'm gladd'a meet you."

"Glad to meet you too, Sean," Billy grinned.

"Call me Spot. Everyone does."

"Okay, Spot. Now, who wants to tell me what happened?"

"All we know," Skittery said, "is that Dutchy O.D.'d or something. Specs was giving him CPR when we got there. Nobody will tell us anything about how Dutchy is, and I'm worried about Specs. When I try to talk to him, he acts like I'm not even here. I'm not sure, but I think that we've all been arrested. They won't even let me go and get Specs something to drink. I really think he's sick."

"Well, you're not under arrest," Billy assured them. He walked over to the nurses' desk and leaned over the top where a group of nurses were talking. "Hey, gorgeous," he said to the tall redhead.

"Hi, sweetie!" the woman answered, coming over and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "What are you doing here?"

Irish watched as her brother whispered into the nurse's ear and rubbed his fingers up and down her arm. "Sure," she said. She went in to
another room and came out with a plastic cup filled with juice. "What's his name?" she asked.

"Daniel Bergman," Billy answered.

"Daniel?" The nurse said bending down in front of Specs.

When he didn't respond, Skittery whispered, "Nobody calls him Daniel. Everybody's called him Specs since he was a little kid."

"Specs, honey. Look at me."

Specs slowly raised his eyes. "How's Dutchy? Is he okay? Why won't anybody tell me what's happening?"

"Specs, honey, I want you to drink this juice."

"I don't want any juice! I want to know how Dutchy is!"

"Peggy," Billy whispered. "Dutchy is his boyfriend."

"Specs? If you drink the juice for me, I'll go in and see how your
boyfriend is doing, okay?"

Specs stared at her for a moment then took the juice and began to drink. He gagged a bit when the cold liquid hit the back of his parched throat, and then continued drinking.

"Easy," Peggy said. "Drink it slowly." She looked as though she was holding his wrist to comfort him, but when she looked at her wristwatch it was obvious that she was taking his pulse.

"That's good," she said when Specs finished the juice. She went to a shelf against the wall and pulled out a worn, white cotton blanket. She wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and gently lifted his face so that their eyes met. "I'm going to go in and find out how your boyfriend is, okay?"

"Thanks," he said, looking up at her.

Skittery sat on the bench and put an arm around his friend's shoulders. Specs's eyes followed Peggy as she went through the swinging door.

Each time the doors opened, Skittery could feel Specs's muscles tighten. Finally, the door swung open and Peggy walked through. "I spoke with the neurologist," Peggy said, squatting down to make eye contact. "And it looks like he is going to be just fine. He had a seizure and his heart stopped, but he's a very lucky young man. Somebody preformed CPR until the paramedics got there and kept his blood flowing to his brain. There doesn't seem to be any damage."

Specs stared at her looking as though he didn't understand what she was saying.

"He did it," Skittery said. "He did the CPR. He was doing it when we got there."

"Specs, honey," she said patting his hand. "It looks like you saved his life. He's going to be okay because of you."

Specs stared at her for a long moment, and then a loud guttural groan escaped his body. Then he wrapped his arms around his midsection, and curled over.

"Jesus! Is he alright?" Skittery flinched. "Do something!"

"He's fine," Peggy assured them. "He was in shock. All he needed was a blanket, some sugar in his system, and some good news." Specs's tears were coming in deep gasps and he shuddered as if he were freezing. "Let him cry it out," she said, patting Skittery's back. "It will be good for him. You'll need to get some hot food into him soon," Peggy said, looking up at Billy.

"Peggy, I want you to meet someone," he said taking her aside. "This is my sister, Irish. Irish, this is Peggy."

"Thanks for helping my friends," Irish said, shaking her hand.

"Irish, I've wanted you to meet Peggy for a while now. She's not only the best nurse at this hospital, she's also my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you, Irish. Bill has told me a lot about you."

"Really?" Irish said, looking over at her brother. "Well, he never mentioned a thing about you."

"Be nice!" Billy snapped, shoving her in the back.

"I am being nice!" Irish said shoving him back. "I don't have a problem with it. All I said was you never mentioned having a girlfriend to me, and you never did. If she can put up with you, it's fine by me."

The swinging door opened and Specs jumped to his feet when he saw Dutchy's mother. She immediately put her arms around him. "Thank you," she said, pulling him tight.

Specs sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he cried in mumbled gulps. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry."

"This isn't your fault," she said, taking him by the shoulders and looking him in the eyes.

"But I knew he was taking drugs, and I didn't tell anyone. He said that he was trying to stop, and I thought I could help him, but I should have told you. It's my fault."

"Specs!" she said, gripping him tighter. "This isn't your fault! He told me what happened. And if you hadn't been there to help him . . ."

"He told you? He's awake?"

"Yes, and he wants to see you."

Dutchy was propped up in the bed when they entered the tiny room. He'd gotten so thin that past couple of months that he almost didn't look real. The hollows under his eyes were deep and blue, and his skin seemed almost translucent as it clung to the tendons and bones underneath. There were tubes in his arms and wires attached to his chest. Above Dutchy's head was a television-style monitor that was steadily beeping and flashing numbers that Specs didn't understand.

"Hi," Dutchy said in a weak and raspy voice.

"Hi," Specs replied, moving next to the bed.

"I really fucked up this time, didn't I?"

"Yeah. You really did."

Neither said anything more, until Mrs. Schuyler pushed a chair next to the bed. "You sit here for a while," she said, nudging Specs down. "I need to go and get a cup of coffee."

"I'm sorry," Dutchy whispered.

"I know," Specs said, taking his hand.

"Mom told me what you did. The doctor said that you saved my life."

Specs didn't answer.

"I'm so sorry that I did this to you," Dutchy sobbed. "I thought that I
could beat this on my own. I really thought that I could stop. I'm so
sorry."

Specs jumped when he saw the numbers on the monitor flash higher.

"I'm okay," Dutchy assured him, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hospital gown. "It does that every now and again."

"I thought you died," Specs choked through his tears. "I thought I was never gonna see you again."

"You know that I have to go away for a while, right?"

"I know."

"I they said that I won't be allowed to have visitors for a while either."

"Can I call you?"

"I can only have phone calls once a week, but I can get letters every day. Maybe you could write to me. If you're not totally fed up with me, that is. If you are, I'll understand."

"Jesus! Either the doctor was wrong and you did suffer brain damage, or you're just fucking stupid! I love you, you ass! I hate what you did to yourself and I hate what you did to us, but I love you and that's not going to change. I'm gonna love you no matter what, but if you ever do something like this again I'm gonna kill you, then I'm gonna give you CPR to bring you back just so I can kill you again. Do you understand? I never - -"

"Specs? . . . I'm really scared."

"I know," Specs said, getting up from the chair and leaning over the bed. "I won't lie and tell you that this is going to be easy because it
isn't. If I could be there with you I would, but I can't. But I will call you whenever you're allowed to have calls, and I'll write to you every day, and I'm going to be there to take you home the day you get out of that place. And whatever it takes to keep you clean, we'll do it together. Because you and I are going to go on with our lives and die of old age together just like we planned."

"It's time for you to get some rest," the nurse said, entering the room. She checked the monitor and then injected a syringe into the I.V. "You're going to be asleep in a few minutes."

"Is it okay if I stay with him until he falls asleep?" Specs asked, lifting his glasses to wipe his eyes.

"Sure, it's okay."

"Where are my glasses?" Dutchy asked.

"You don't have any. They got broken when this happened."

"Let me use yours for a minute, Okay?"

"We're not the same prescription, so you won't see that well," Specs said, sliding them onto Dutchy's face.

"I just want to see you is all. You were all fuzzy."

"Then give me back the glasses. I look better fuzzy."

"I hate when you talk like that. You don't know how beautiful you are. You never did."

"Stop, okay?"

"What?"

"Damn it, Dutch. You don't have to say that. We both know that I'm not, okay?"

"But--"

"But nothing. Let's not go there. And besides, guys aren't beautiful. Girls are beautiful, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm not a girl."

"Oh, I've noticed. And you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"If you start singing Beautiful Boy again, I'm leaving."

"You love it when I sing that song."

"No I don't. I put up with it because I like the way you sing."

"God, you're such a bad liar. Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"Yeah, I do. You love me just the same as I love you."

"That was the longest four months of my life," Specs said, leaning back against Dutchy. "It was the only time that we've ever really been
separated."

"But at least you came home in time to graduate with us," Chris interrupted. "And we all got to go to the prom together."

"Not all of us," Spot said looking at Mush.

"Sorry, Mush," Chris said.

"Don't be sorry. I was there. I went with Kerri Latham."

"Don't remind me," Spot groaned. "There I was sitting by myself with these losers and in you walk escorting the two most gorgeous breasts that God ever created. Talk about the times that try a man's soul. There you were, the only man I ever loved, with the breasts that I always wanted to get my hands on."

"I'm disappointed in you, Spot," Itey scowled. "I've never heard you speak about a woman in such a derogatory manor."

"Oh, please," David interrupted. "I don't believe in trivializing a woman's worth by reducing her to a couple of body parts, but Kerri was
my sister's best friend. She used to walk into a room and announce 'Hi! I'm Kerri, and these are my breasts!'"

"She didn't," Itey gaped.

"Oh, yes, she did, little brother," Skittery snickered. "But in all fairness, I never heard anyone say that they ever slept with her. She
wasn't a tramp, she was just proud of her attributes."

"So did you get to touch them?" Spot asked.

"You're disgusting!" Itey cringed.

"Sorry, Itey, but I'm with Spot on this one," David grinned. "I'm one hundred percent gay, and I wanted to cop a feel myself."

"Why, David Jacobs!" Jack smirked. "This is a side of you that I've never seen before."

"I wonder what ever happened to Kerri," Mush mused.

"She married a doctor right after college," David replied. "He has a rather large plastic surgery practice on Park Avenue. She has four kids and a house on the Island."

"How do you know so much?" Spot gawked.

"She and her husband were at my sister's thirtieth birthday party."

"How does she look?" Spot asked.

"Well, for her thirtieth birthday, Kerri's husband had her attributes restored to their original glory. They were truly a sight to behold!"

"Itey's right," Chris grumbled. "You guys are disgusting. I always knew that Spot was a freak, but you surprise me, Dave."

"Hey, I may not want to climb the mountain," David laughed. "But I can surely appreciate the view."

"Can we please get back to Dutchy's story?" Itey pleaded.

"Well, graduation is the thing that I'll remember best." Dutchy smiled at Specs.

"I want to ask why," Skittery grimaced, "but I'm afraid that this is going to be another of those stories you tell just to creep me out."

"Nope," Dutchy said, still looking at Specs. "That's when Specs gave me this," he said, holding up his hand and wiggling his ring finger.

"Isn't that your class ring?" Chris asked.

"No. Its Specs's ring. I sold this and my father's pocket watch to buy drugs. They are the two most important things that I've ever owned, and I sold them like it was nothing. I want to get sick every time I think about it. What I didn't know was that Specs bought the ring and watch back the day he and Skittery went to the pawn shop. I thought that they were gone forever, but Specs was keeping them hidden until I was well again. He never said a word about them until graduation night. He took me for a drive just like he did the first time he gave it to me. And just like the first time, he told me that this ring was his promise that he would always love me and that he would always be there for me. This ring hasn't been off my finger once since that night."

"That's right," Specs laughed. "Three years ago when he had to have his appendix out, he refused to take the ring off before the surgery. He and the nurse were actually screaming at each other. I thought that they were going to come to blows over it."

"Yeah, but I stood my ground and won. This ring has never been off my finger and it never will be."

Specs leaned back and looked up at Dutchy. Dutchy, in turn, leaned over and kissed him.

"And that is my cue to hit the sack," Specs said, standing and pulling Dutchy up by the hand. "It's almost time for the sun to come up, and I, for one, need my beauty sleep."

"You can say that again," Skittery agreed.

Slowly everyone wandered to their sleeping bags, and soon the sounds of snoring and quiet mumbling echoed through the room.

Dutchy and Specs, however, didn't go right to sleep. They moved their sleeping bag to the far end of the room under the bleachers.

"Do you know how much I love you?" Dutchy whispered.

"Yes I do," Specs said, pulling Dutchy on top of him. "You love me as much as I love you. And that's one enormous pile of lovin'."

"Well, are you too tired to show me just how much we do love each other?" Dutchy asked, running his tongue along the outline of Specs ear.

"I'll never be too tired for that," Specs said, quickly rolling them over so that he was on top of Dutchy. "And if you play your cards right, maybe I can show you just how much we love each other twice."

End C-24

A/N:

The CPR scene in this chapter was written using the 1989 CPR guidelines, and its use is intended for entertainment purposes only. These guidelines have since been revised and should not be used in case of an actual medical emergency. You can view the current acceptable CPR guidelines at the American Heart Association website.

A/N:

Thanks for taking the time to read this story. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

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