Disclaimer: I do not own the gentlemen of Good Charlotte depicted here. They belong to Epic and their moms. This is purely a work of FICTION, as in it never happened.

a/n: I wrote this story after I went to a show and was confronted by a little roving gang of neo-nazi punks. Thankfully they did nothing to me, but it made me wonder why I picked such a damn stupid genre of music to like... I mean, I coulda picked just about anyting else and not found groups of people that want to kill me on principle wandering around at shows. I won't say the name of that band I went to see, because they quite obviously were pissed these kids were even there. But goddamned if I wasn't heavily fucking pissed off. Nazi punks, fuck off.

And on another note, I'm not entirely sure why I enjoy doing harm to my poor, poor CJ. She's the embodiment of myself in this fictional universe, so why do I enjoy hurting her so? Dunno... maybe that says something about me. Also, I didn't really read back through this, so excuse spelling/grammar mistakes.

�That crowd out there is crazy,� Benji breathed. �It�s packed as fuck.�

�What�re they like?� Billy asked, referring to the audience�s receptiveness.

�I dunno,� Joel said, shrugging. �It�s hard to tell, but the circle pit during Stretch Armstrong�s set was wicked.� He rubbed at a darkening bruise on his bicep. �And I think, for once, we got more dudes than chicks out there.�

CJ chortled, twirling the stick in her right hand between her index and middle fingers. �That�s because we�re not headlining.�

Benji reached out and smacked her in the side of her head, grinning. �Shut up.�

�You guys ready to play?� Paul asked, bringing them all back to the task at hand, the circle of friends pulling in close and putting their heads together, resting their arms along the shoulders or hips of their bandmates while Joel uttered an impromptu prayer, Benji dropping in a few words at the end before they parted and took the stage.

The energy of the crowd was palpable, but it didn�t have the light, almost golden feel to it as it usually did. This time it was gruff, heavy, dark and hostile. It felt like a friggin� Limp Bizkit concert during an ill-begotten Woodstock fiasco. CJ grit her teeth and bore down on her drums, Paul digging into his bass to dredge out some rumbling rhythms, diverging from the wrote material to slap on a few hard metal riffs. Paul played facing CJ a good amount of the time, to make sure he got cued by the kick, and Billy hopped over to join the bassist, grinning at the both of them. This metal stuff was his world.

Breaking out of the musical powwow, Billy and Paul faced the crowd again and dropped back into their usual riffs. The twins yelled their lyrics into the mics, trying to overpower the voices floating up from the crowd. �You guys are awesome,� Benji told the audience, breathing hard into the microphone. �You�re giving us a work out up here.�

�Yeah, we got one song left. It�s called �Stand Up,�� Joel cut in. �You guys have been incredible, Pittsburgh, and we�ll be back here real soon �cause you guys are so awesome.�

After their set, the swirling swell of energy didn�t ebb, and the kids were still crushing for the barriers at the front of the venue when Billy, Paul and CJ pushed through the crowd for the bar. The twins were customarily hunkered backstage to avoid the onslaught of raging hormones, manifested in the flesh of dozens of teenage girls. �Three gin and tonics,� CJ said to the bartender, who smiled and told her she had a great set before setting the drinks in front of her. She handed Billy and Paul their drinks before she picked hers up, and they moved to the back of the venue to watch the final band take the stage.

The atmosphere is always a little different at the back of a club. Yes, there�s the lighting booth and the tech geeks that hang out there trying to get in on the action, bet there were also the seasoned veterans, the kids who came to this club whether a band they liked were playing or not, the kids that drank at the bar for free because they knew everyone who ran the place. These were the kids that wouldn�t bother an artist if they saw one because they figured everyone deserved to have a moment of peace to enjoy a show, because everyone deserved to enjoy a good show. As she took a sip from her red plastic cup, CJ�s eyes landed on a group of four guys who seemed to be covertly interested in her as well. She wasn�t sure what had attracted her attention, but she quickly assessed them and a pit opened up in her stomach.

�I�m gonna go outside for a smoke, all right? Billy�s coming with,� Paul said, nudging her with his elbow.

CJ�s eyes never left the group of four as she grabbed the arm of Paul�s sweatshirt. �Why can�t you just smoke in here? It is a club.�

Paul shook his head. �Nah, I need some fresh air.�

�Some fresh air?� CJ asked, her eyes flicking up to his a moment. �In which to smoke?�

Paul laughed, pulling the sleeve of his sweatshirt from her grip. �I like having a clean canvass to befoul, all right?�

CJ�s eyes returned to the group of guys, who had turned their backs to her side of the club, and she took a step back, brushing past Paul�s arm to stand just behind him. The bassist turned and looked down at her curiously, following her eyes to try to see what had so captured her attention so intensely. �I�ll come with you guys,� CJ said, linking her elbow with Paul�s and letting him lead her away, leaving those boys behind to sit with her friends on a cold curb in Pennsylvania.

CJ had all but forgotten about the kids inside by the time she, Billy and Paul had finished their drinks and smoked a couple �homemade cigarettes� with the staff manning the door. �I gotta pee, dude,� CJ said, getting up from the curb and placing one hand on Billy�s head and the other on Paul�s as she stepped up onto the sidewalk. She wondered why girls seemed to have to pee twice as often as guys, and then there was always twice the line. To her surprise, though, the bathroom was empty and she was in and out with ease. She pushed through the swinging door back out into the corridor and was confronted with the four gentlemen she had scoped out before. She kept her head down and tried to sidestep them, but they moved into her path.

CJ lifted her eyes to them, looking at them a little closer while in the light of the hallway. Three had short cropped hair and one had a dark blue mohawk. Their pants were rolled at the bottom revealing a bit of their red-laced combat boots, and they all wore the same work shirt, looking as though they all worked at the same place. Red suspenders hung at their hips and she caught a glimpse of a tattoo that looked like two lightning bolts on the shortest one�s bicep when he crossed his arms, slitting his eyes at her, looking her first down, then up. �Can I help you guys?� She asked, trying to sound calmer than she was, as her heart was currently thudding in her throat. She barely finished the sentence before the tallest one of them forced her backwards back into the ladies room and locked the door behind them.

�You got a lot of fucking nerve coming here, bitch,� the tallest one said, turning his back to the mirrors as he stared down at her.

CJ took a step back from him at the gruff words, but chose to stand up for herself despite the voice screaming in her head to run, run, run. �What�d I do?� She asked, taking the time to look between the four of then, just beginning to see them as separate people and differentiate their characteristic features.

�You were born,� the chubbiest of them growled, though he was barely chubby at all. They all were quite skinny, well toned, like they worked on keeping their bodies trim and strong.

CJ frowned, pressing her lips together as she surveyed the expressions on their faces. The jaws were hard-set, eyes cold, almost lifeless, muscles twitching in anticipation of action. �Nothing I can say to call you guys off, hunh?� CJ asked. A wicked grin spread across the tallest�s face just before CJ lunged for the nearest stall and slammed the door shut before they could get their hands on her. She tried the lock but it was broken. Why the fuck was every lock in every venue always fucking broken? She held her hands against it the door as they tried to force it open. She was only barely aware that she was repeating, oh crap, oh crap over and over again under her breath.

�You�re making this worse,� one of them said. �It�s just gonna be worse.�

CJ looked up and around herself. They were gonna jump over the walls of this stall in a minute. This was only staving off the inevitable. Talk to them, she thought to herself. Talk to them, maybe they�ll calm down, maybe they�ll see me as a person. Why the fuck would they even come to a show if they knew someone they hated on a fundamental level would be there? �Make what worse?� She asked, readying herself to roll under the wall to the next stall and try to make it to the door.

�I�m gonna fucking kill her,� she heard one mumble to another as she heard the plastic toilet seat in the stall to her right creak under the soles of combat boots. She looked up at the reddened, rage-filled face above her just before she let go of the door and rolled beneath the wall into the stall to her left, scrambled to her feet and sprinted for the exit. The tallest one reached out and caught her by the back of her collar, the shirt cutting into her wind-pipe, surprising her more than anything else. She looked back over her shoulder to see the one with the mohawk climbing down off of the toilet, one guarding the door and the other, chubbiest one leaning on the sink nearby.

CJ thought of calling for help, but she couldn�t find her voice; it was choked back behind the fabric being cinched ever tighter by her captor. The chubbiest guy, who had been leaning on the sink, stepped closer, reaching his hand out, pressing his index finger against her nose and squishing it up, making a pig-like sound in the back of his throat and laughing. In a lightning quick motion, CJ grabbed his finger in her teeth and bit down as hard as she could, dredging strength from somewhere deep inside her. �Ow, fuck,� he howled.

Someone banged on the door and the guy standing at the door called to them, telling them to use the guy�s bathroom. This one was being cleaned.

The young man put his finger into his mouth, sucking on the bleeding digit and glaring at his assailant. He grabbed her by the front of the shirt and slammed her into the wall between the sinks, the back of her head crashing into the mirror and sending a spider-webbing splinter through the glass.

CJ�s vision swam, and she must have blacked out for a few moments, because the next she saw were fingers frantically tugging at the button fly of her pants as she lay slumped against the wall. A hot, stickiness was oozing down her back, and she could only assume it was blood from her head, though she felt no pain, felt nothing at all, really. She sniffed and tasted a metallic tang in the back of her throat. Her nose was bleeding. Lazily her gaze shifted to the door as she was pulled into the middle of the floor, unable to make use of her limbs, each to heavy to lift, to even twitch. Her head felt detached from her body, a dull buzzing in her ears, her body numb to the cold tile beneath her.

The young skinhead at the door looked uncertain. He looked nervous, shifting his weight back and forth, glancing at the door when someone pounded on the other side, then turning his eyes back to the scene in front of him, then diverting them quickly anywhere but there. CJ�s eyes turned from him a moment, to the face hovering above hers, sweat-filmed and contorted with both rage and lust, then turned away.

The chubbier one insisted she look at him. He grabbed CJ�s face with one hand as he braced himself above her with the other. She searched him for compassion, searched those colorless eyes for anything other than blind hatred, but found nothing. He smashed his hand against her mouth despite the fact that she seemed too trapped within her own body to speak. She tasted blood again, and knew her teeth were cutting into the inside of her lips. He rested his mouth against her shoulder, and she was only aware that he bit her because his teeth were covered in a pink film when he lifted his head back into her view.

A distorted sound come to her ears, the voices of her assailants through grogginess brought on by the blow to the head and blood loss. She couldn�t figure what they were saying, but they were looking at the one guarding the door. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets and he took a step their direction, his eyes locking on CJ�s. She knew he was her only hope in getting out of this, but she knew it was lost when he looked away from her, closing his eyes as he stood still a moment, deciding what he should do. CJ started to speak to him, and his eyes flicked open, clear and blue, as the tallest slapped his hand across her mouth. Grit crunched beneath his boots as he moved towards them, avoiding her eyes as he knelt in front of her and submitted to his friends� will.

The chubbiest one took up the position at the door, pressing his ear to it to try to hear what was going on in the hallway when a commotion built up on the other side. �Guys, we gotta go. I think the owner�s going to go get the keys,� he whispered harshly, motioning them his direction. The young man with the mohawk, who had been leaning against the stalls watching, joined his friend at the door. He pressed his ear against the wooden paneling and listened silently.

�He�s right, we should go.�

Blue eyes downcast, CJ�s final assailant pulled away from her, standing and rearranging his clothing. The tallest stood up and stepped over CJ�s legs, striding to the door and unlocking it slowly, noiselessly, while pushing against it to keep it closed. �Come on,� the tallest one said, motioning to the young man still standing over CJ. �Let�s go, just leave her.�

He chewed on the inside of his lip, running his thumb across the pads of his fingers as he looked down at her. He knit his dark eyebrows together and shook his head almost imperceptibly. �No,� he said softly.

�What?� The tallest demanded.

�No,� he repeated and knelt to her, tugging at her t-shirt, trying to cover up the exposed parts of her body. Her eyes were fluttering. She was on the edge of losing consciousness. When he touched her back he pulled away fingertips painted crimson and he stared at the shaking hand as though it weren�t his own, eyes glued to the dark red shining in the sick florescent light.

�What the fuck are you doing, man?� The chubbiest one asked, clomping over and grabbing his arm, attempting to pull him to standing so they could leave.

�No,� he repeated more forcefully, wrenching free of his friend�s grasp and pulling CJ�s pants up her legs and struggling to button them at her waist while his companion tried to get him to leave. When shaking hands reached around her back to flatten the twisted waistband, and he started to button the fly, the tallest one came over and grabbed him by the front of the sweatshirt and lifted him to his feet.

�We�re leaving,� he said firmly, then pushed the shorter man towards the door. The chubbiest followed after a prolonged look at CJ, determining that she had, indeed, passed out. They took a cautious look into the hallway before they disappeared.

Paul and Billy were the first ones on scene after they heard a high-pitched scream in the ladies room. �I think you should come in here.� They looked up at the owner of the club, who was standing on the threshold of the front entrance. He waved away other people trying to get into the club, telling them to come back another time.

�What?� Paul asked, worried by the stricken countenance and somber tone of his voice.

A girl was sobbing outside the door of the bathroom, her friends trying to comfort her. She had walked into something she hadn�t been expecting. Some staff were redirecting people to the bathroom upstairs and the owner pushed open the door and held it, waving Billy and Paul inside. �I didn�t move her,� he said, when the two guitarists froze at the sight. �I don�t know what happened-�

�CJ,� Paul said in almost a whisper, and half walked, half stumbled over to her, lifting her up to sitting and putting a hand behind her back to bolster her up.

�Is she awake?� Billy asked, his voice in Paul�s left ear, as he had snuck up and knelt next to him without a sound.

�CJ, please. Can you hear me?� Paul asked, sliding his hand up to cradle the back of her head.

�She�s bleeding,� Billy whispered, pointing at Paul�s coated palm. The bassist followed Billy�s gaze, looking at his hand and then down the back of her shirt. A dark stain had spread all the way down her back, and the blood had begun to soak into the fabric of her pants. �Oh, shit.� He looked back at the owner. �Call 911.�

�I already did. An ambulance is on the way,� he assured them. �They should be here any minute.�

Paul carefully laid her back down on the floor and bent over her, lightly smacking her cheeks. �C�mon, dude. Wake up for me.� He bent his head low over hers to feel the slight breath coming from her nose. Billy thought he might have brushed a kiss onto her cheek, but he couldn�t be sure.

�She�s gonna be okay, Paul,� Billy assured the bassist. His slim fingers were working at the buttons on her fly, making his friend look presentable for the paramedics despite the fact she might be cut out of her clothes within the next half hour.

�How the fuck do you know that?� Paul asked, his voice quivering with the strain of the situation, finding himself emulating Billy, smoothing her hair, tugging the wrinkles out of her shirt and leaving dark fingerprints on the orange fabric, trying to make her look as normal as possible because the circumstances were anything but.

�She just is,� Billy responded firmly. And Paul wanted to believe him. Like hell he wanted to believe him. But she didn�t look good. Even if her body healed up, there was no telling what blow her psyche took. They didn�t know what had happened� there were inferences, yes, but nothing concrete. And the inferences were too unbearable in and of themselves.

Two EMT�s hurried in, gently but forcefully moving the two musicians out of the way as they put CJ onto a stretcher. �Anyone riding in the cab?� An EMT asked, looking among the onlookers.

�I am,� Paul said quietly. �Billy, um, tell Benji and Joel, then meet us at the hospital.� He looked over at the EMT�s, who were trying to maneuver the stretcher through the crowd that was gathered in the hall. �Where�re we going? Which hospital?� Paul called to them.

�Memorial,� they replied, coincidentally in unison.

�Yeah,� Paul sighed, looking back at Billy. �Memorial, wherever the hell that is.�

�I can get you directions,� the owner said, laying a hand on Billy�s shoulder as Paul moved around them to catch up to the paramedics.

�I�ll call you if I know anything,� Paul called as he disappeared through the front doors and the ambulance wailed away.

CJ didn�t wake up for four hours. Paul, Billy and the twins were sitting in her room when she came to, pressing her hand to her face, covering her eyes from the light above her head. All at once she jumped, an overwhelming compulsion to flee pulling an audible intake of breath from her lips, alerting the sleeping members of her band. Paul was at her side in an instant, telling her to calm down. �It�s over, CJ. It�s over. You�re okay now,� he whispered softly as he fought to keep a grip on her tiny wrists, as she was trying to pull the IV needle out of her hand. �You�re okay,� he said again, and her fighting weakened as her blurry eyes focused on the concerned faces of Benji and Joel, and she could agree then, yes, she was indeed safe. She wrapped her arms around Paul in an embrace, and he hugged her back. He felt her eyelashes tickle the skin in the crook of his neck before the sobs wracked her, and he felt her small frame quake against him.

He�d never seen her cry before.

�No, no, don�t do that,� Paul pleaded, trying to make the tears go away as she gripped the back of his sweatshirt with both hands. His hand absently moved up to hold the back of her head, and he felt the prickly edges of the sutures holding her skin together. �Hey, you know, you got a free haircut,� he said, hoping to ease the tension a little bit. He felt her chuckle a little, her hands loosening on the fabric of his shirt. She reached one hand back and touched the shaved and sutured back of her head.

�Well, yeah. There�s always that,� she responded weakly, her voice froggy from lack of use. CJ took a few deep breaths, her chin still on Paul�s shoulder as she watched Billy slide onto the foot of the bed in front of her. She reached out and pat his knee, then sat back on her pillows again. �So� what do I do, here?� She asked. �Anybody know?�

�Well, uh,� Paul began, rubbing a hand through his hair, a classic tell that he was trying to figure the right way to express a touchy issue. �The doc said you, uh�� He frowned, looking down at his hands. �You were� assaulted. And they did all the tests and you�re okay. They gave you some sedative to make you sleep all this time.�

�All what time?� She looked at the clock on the wall. �Holy� why are you guys even here? You should be at the hotel sleeping.�

Benji shook his head. �No way we could sleep with you in here. No way.� CJ�s smile was wan, but appreciative. �Specially when we don�t know who or what coulda gone and done this to you.� His voice seemed less stable than usual. �And of course it�s not like the police have done dick all to try to find these guys either-�

Joel caught Benji�s elbow and spoke to him calmly. �Look, she doesn�t need this extra stress. Cool it all right?� Benji knew his brother was right, but there was anger too strong to control boiling inside him. CJ could see it as he looked at her, then at his brother, then got up out of his seat and walked into the hallway, out of sight. Joel looked apologetically at CJ.

�Go and get him,� she sighed, shaking her head and waving Joel away, knowing he�d be kicking himself if he didn�t go after him. He got up and disappeared into the hallway as well.

�You should rest,� Paul continued, bringing her attention back to him as Billy found her leg beneath the blanket and gave it a firm squeeze. �The police will be coming to get a statement later.�

CJ nodded. �Thanks for being here. You know, for waiting for me to wake up.� She looked between Paul and Billy, her eyes locking on Billy�s, remembering clear blue eyes, somber clear blue eyes, and catching a fierce wave of chills.

�You cold?� Billy asked, rubbing his hands against the blanket on her legs to create some friction.

CJ dropped her eyes. �No, no,� she assured him, telling herself the gag reflex would fade with time; she�d be able to look at Billy again soon. Not right now, but soon. �I need to get out of this room right now,� she said quickly, sliding her legs from under Billy�s grip and swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She limped a little as she approached the door, and neither Paul nor Billy wanted to think of a reason as to why.

The linoleum was cold beneath her bare feet as she wrapped the robe hanging on the back of the door and looked into the hallway. It was nearly deserted, due to the late hour, but she could see Joel trying to feed a wrinkled dollar into the vending machine at the end of the hall. Benji was leaning against the soda machine sipping a Fresca. He wrinkled his nose and looked at the can.

�Not what you wanted?� CJ asked as she approached them, pointing at the can in Benji�s hand.

�I wanted a damn Pepsi and this crap came out.�

�Is my ass showing in this?� CJ asked, turning around so the twins could see the back of her hospital gown. Benji raised his eyebrows hopefully, but was disappointed when he saw that the paper dress was cinched completely closed, her small size allowing the edges to overlap when the plastic strings were tied into neat double bows.

�Nope,� Joel said. �You�re good.�

She turned around again and laid a hand on Joel�s thin shoulder, looking up into his eyes for a silent moment, her mouth pressed into a thin line between her teeth before she plucked the ratty dollar from his hand and glanced down at it. �You�d think somebody like you would have a decent dollar on hand.�

Joel stiffened, crossing his arms as though he were offended. �What�s that supposed to mean?�

�You bling like whoa all over the TV but you can�t get a crisp dollar bill?� She laughed, pushing Joel out of the way and pressing the dollar against the sharp corner of the machine, pulling the bill between the metal edge and her palm, straightening the out the paper as best as she could. Then she fed it into the machine, the green display blinking to acknowledge a one dollar credit.

�Thanks, Ceej,� Joel mumbled. �Dunno what we�d do without you.�

�Starve,� Benji replied, taking a reluctant gulp from his soda and making a face.

CJ stood back and watched the two of them, Benji watching his brother stare through the display window, trying to figure out which snack to pick, and eventually getting fed up with Joel�s indecisiveness and punching in two arbitrary numbers to make something fall out. Joel frowned as the snack fell. �What the fuck, Benj?� Joel demanded, whacking Benji in the gut with his knuckles. Benji backed off a step and took another swig of citrus soda without grimacing this time. Looked like it might be growing on him. Joel bent and pushed his hand through the slot, pulling out a six pack of chocolate covered mini-donuts. �Shit, I wanted something salty.�

�I�ll eat �em,� Benji said quickly, reaching out and grasping the package, the plastic crinkling under his fingers. Joel didn�t let them go, pulling the package back towards him, twisting it out of his brother�s grasp.

�Like hell you will,� Joel said.

�I thought you didn�t want �em,� Benji said, reaching for them again as Joel put a hand on his chest and pushed him away.

�I�ma eat �em now, just cuz I know you want �em.�

�Hey, guys?� CJ interjected, putting her hands on her hips as she tried to direct some of their attention her way.

�Why you gotta be such a bitch?� Benji asked, his voice raising a little as the both of them dropped into some watered down form of ghetto-speak that always irked the hell out of CJ.

�Guys,� CJ said again, a little louder, snapping her fingers, but they didn�t acknowledge her.

�Why you always a damn asshole, Benj?� Joel asked, still holding his brother off with one hand while gripping the coveted, chocolate-coated prize with the other.

�Guys!� CJ shouted, likely a little too loud because the nurses at their station hushed her, pointing at the sign that said �quiet.� She mouthed them a �sorry� and waved. It got the twins� attention, though, so mission accomplished. �Why don�t you guys go to the hotel? Take Paul and Billy and get some rest. I�m going to have to put in a report with the police, then I�ll come meet you guys so we can get to the next venue.�

Benji turned the can upside down and drained the last of the contents, dropping it in a nearby recycling bin. �We cancelled the next date, so don�t worry about that.�

CJ slit her eyes, cocking an eyebrow. �Why would you do that?� She asked softly, her voice taking on a sharp edge of bitterness or incredulity.

Joel and Benji looked at one another, then Joel cleared his throat before he spoke. �Well, you know, we figured you�d need some� some rest, or some time to� just some time, you know?�

�You know?� Benji said, parroting his brother on words he said to often. It had started when Benji tried to break Joel of saying �like� all the time by repeating the word every time he said it. It had made Joel so aware of how he spoke that he hadn�t put together a full sentence for two weeks.

CJ motioned them closer, and they leaned in a little. �Why the hell would you think I wouldn�t want to get back to normal as soon as possible?� The twins shook their heads, shrugging. There was no way they could pretend to know what she felt right now, and they would never have assumed she would want to go back to work tomorrow. �I want to go back to drumming right the fuck now guys, because it�s what I love to do. I don�t want to sit around feeling sorry for myself and thinking about� everything, all right? I want to go back to doing what I always do. I thrive on routine.�

Benji nodded, reaching out putting a hand on top of her head, tugging lightly on one of her twists before he let his hand fall to his side again. �Okay, Ceej. But the show tomorrow is out. After that, though, we keep on schedule.�

CJ followed the twins back to her room to get Billy and Paul and found that two uniformed policemen had shown up in her absence. �You guys mind if I see them out before we talk?� She asked, gesturing to her bandmates over her shoulder.

�Yes, ma�am,� they said respectfully. �That would be fine.�

�Well, we could just-� Paul began, then caught the sharp look CJ shot his direction and decided to ditch his initial intention for a safer route, �-have CJ see us out,� Paul finished, herding Billy and Benji out into the hallway, Joel following close behind with CJ at his side. She linked her elbow with his and bore a little of her weight on him while balancing on legs made rubbery from the lingering effects of the anesthesia.

They walked through the ER towards the rolling glass doors that led out onto the street. Joel listened to the soft slapping sound the bare soles of CJ�s feet made on the highly buffed floor, as well as to the squeak everyone else�s sneakers. He had a sudden and fleeting urge to tell her that she might catch cold without socks on, but he dispelled the thoughts as they paused on the threshold of the door. �I�ll be at the hotel soon, I�m sure. If not, my clothes are in this place somewhere, so my cell�s here and I can give you a call,� CJ said as she watched them climb into the back of a black rented van. Paul was the last into the van.

�Can�t sleep without you there,� Paul said, tapping the side of the van with his fingertips.

�Try,� was all she said in reply, then turned and walked away from the doors as they rolled shut behind her. The ER seemed busy for such a late� or early hour. And there was something clawing up the back of her neck, just under the skin, cold and sharp, and she pressed her hand there, rubbing up over the shaved part of her head, over the sutures and puckered skin. She rocked her head back and forth, stretching out the tight muscles knotting up at the nexus of her spine and skull, her eyes landing on the mostly drawn curtain of the cubicle to her left. She wasn�t sure why she felt compelled to look inside, but before she knew what she was doing she had taken the edge of the blue curtain in hand and leaned forward to cautiously peek inside.

He had his head bowed, white light filtering through his short-cropped hair. His knuckles were bandaged up and he was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, his elbows on his knees as he stared silently at the floor.

The creeping things multiplied, scuttling up her spine and pouring through her bloodstream, setting her limbs shaking. But she was moving again, padding around the edges of the cubicle, her back brushing the curtain as she skirted the edge of the bed until she caught a profile. He must have sensed her then, because he turned slightly and looked up at her.

And they both froze.

His eyes were as clear blue as she remembered, and they were wide, wider than she�d seen them before. His mouth hung slightly slack in surprise at seeing her, but he quickly shut it, chewing on the bottom lip before he opened it again as if to speak but finding no words.

CJ felt her breath catch in her throat, as though the collar of her t-shirt was pulled tightly against it once again, and she stumbled back a step, encroaching on the next cubicle as her body pushed back through the curtain.

�Wait,� he finally said, lifting one hand towards her, though she was quite obviously more than an arm�s length away from him. He seemed to want to say more, but nothing came to his lips.

All the same, CJ�s feet were frozen in place, her right hand clutching a fist of the curtain fabric as she watched his eyes cloud over with doubt, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, then returned it to his lap, folding his hands in his view. Without his eyes on her she became more aware of the choice words running through her mind and the urge to leap onto the bed and throttle him. She let out one slow breath and spoke the first sentence to push its way to the forefront of her consciousness. �Are your friends here?� She asked in a barely audible whisper, hardly aware she was still gripping the curtain as though her life depended on it; like it was the life vest and she�d just been dumped into the icy Atlantic.

He shook his head slowly. �No,� he answered, matching her tone.

She nodded, feeling the ice binding her to the floor begin to thaw, the creatures beneath her skin finding it acceptable to settle down a bit. CJ swallowed hard, looking at the bandages on his hands, crimson splotches seeping through now, as they were crudely dressed with what looked like windshield wipes from a gas station. �What happened to you hands?� She asked.

He pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt down to cover them and tucked them against his body. �Nothing,� he replied, then thought better about it and added. �Don�t worry about it.�

CJ still didn�t let go of the curtain, and her fist was aching with the force she was locked onto it. But she took a step forward, bending a little to get a better look at him. �I�m not worried,� she said. He looked over at her and she saw what he might have been trying to hide. The right side of his face, the side away from where she stood, was battered pretty good. His eye was swollen almost completely shut, and a gash ran from below his eye to the side of his nose. The skin was all in deep purple and red, and the gash looked to be dirty, like it might have been inflicted by a rusty crowbar or something. He realized she�d seen his injury and immediately dropped his eyes back to his lap, bowing his head. �What happened to your face?� She asked.

�Nothing.�

�What�d you get jumped out?�

He chuckled, though the laugh was devoid of humor. �If I got jumped out I wouldn�t be standing.� He glanced at her again. She didn�t look amused.

�You�re prepared to take the fall for them,� she said, not as a question but as a statement of fact. �I got cops waiting for me in my room. I could walk in there and turn you in.�

He ran his tongue over cracked lips and nodded slightly, rolling his shoulders as though they were stiff or paining. �Do what you have to,� he replied, eyes still on his lap. He swung his legs a little, the toes of his boots scraping against the floor.

CJ let go of the curtain and walked to stand just in front of him, close enough so he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to. She looked down at his fuzzy head, down the back of his neck which was tattooed with a cross, D.O.C its inscription. �I�m not prepared to let you take the fall for them,� she said resolutely. �Fuck that.�

He lifted his head and looked up at her. It was a direct reversal from the first time they had seen one another, both of their minds were transported back to that moment, and CJ was immediately back at the cubicle�s edge, and his eyes were on the floor. �Just arrest me, all right?� He mumbled. �Jesus Christ.�

�What? You wanna be arrested?� She waited for his answer, but there was only silence. �I�m not letting your friends off the fucking hook so you can fucking forget it. Maybe you think you�re being all noble, so your pals won�t think you�re a pussy and beat your ass anymore, but you think this is gonna get you slap on the wrist, or some shit? I push this as a hate crime and it�s a federal fucking offence, asshole. You�ll go to prison for life if you�re lucky.� That got his attention. He straightened his upper body and pressed his hands to his eyes, flattening his mouth into a line as he considered his fate.

�Shit, shit,� he whispered to himself, tipping his head upwards towards the ceiling.

�That is what this was, wasn�t it?� CJ pressed. �A hate crime?�

He chewed on his lower lip again and looked over at her, his eyes red and glassy, looking more sick and haggard than he did before. And all at once he broke down into tears. Silent sobs that wracked his body, and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing them fiercely in complete disregard for the fact that his right eye began bleeding with the first rough pass of his sweatshirt sleeve. �I don�t know what to do,� CJ heard him choke out between sobs. �I don�t know what to do here. I know I can�t just�� He heaved a long breath in an attempt to calm himself, peeling one of the paper towels off of his hand to blot at his oozing eye. �I can�t just walk away from this like nothing happened-� The sobs took over again, and he couldn�t speak.

CJ shifted on her feet, looking around the room for tissues or something, something to comfort him without having to actually� touch him. But she found nothing. So she thought some words might help. �Well, if you�re feeling guilty, I guess that makes you more human that I thought. More human then your friends.�

�Something�s gotta happen to me,� he whispered, hugging himself as though he might be cold. He was hiccupping in the wake of the wave of tears now, and his eye had stopped oozing.

�Looks like something already did,� CJ replied, pointing at his face. �But, you know, if you help the police, turn in dangerously fucked up people like your friends, maybe halfway fucked up people like you will see the outside of a jail cell before they die.� So maybe it wasn�t the most comforting thing that could have been said, but it was as good as she could think of under the circumstances. His bright blue eyes met hers, and for the first time, they didn�t cement her to the floor. �You ready?� She asked.

He took a deep breath the steel himself. �Yes,� he replied.

CJ returned quickly with the officers and they hauled the young man off to the station, with a promise of full cooperation. She told them she wanted no further direct involvement in the case, and she was assured they would honor her wishes in any avenue possible.

CJ was back to playing again after two days, though she was quite sure she�d ever be as comfortable as she used to be when she�d hang in the back of clubs. She stayed backstage more often than not, entertaining herself with other artists and their groupies.

Billy sat on the other end of the plush orange and brown couch in the back room and offered CJ a chocolate-dipped strawberry. �No thanks,� she said.

�This place has great food,� Billy said. �C�mon, they�re really good.�

CJ looked over at him and grinned. �All right, you talked me into it.�

Billy lifted the piece of fruit by its stem and stretched out his arm, offering it directly to her mouth. She looked up into his eyes and expected the sickening dropping feeling that had sadly become usual when she looked into those familiar orbs of blue.

This time, however, she only saw Billy in there; no complex, tortured, stormy eyes of a kid mixed up in something too big to get out of, only the jovial, shining blue eyes of Billy the Kid. She laughed and opened her mouth, biting off the tip of the strawberry and chewing thoughtfully. �Man, this is good.� She opened her mouth again, waiting for Billy to offer her some more.

He looked over at her as he took a bite of the same strawberry. �Oh, what, I�m supposed to feed you now? Go get your own,� he laughed, gesturing towards the snack table. CJ only pointed at her open mouth and wiggled her tongue around inside, her tongue stud flashing in the overhead light. �I spoil you,� Billy sighed, picking up and big strawberry and stuffing the whole thing in her mouth, stem and all.

�Hey!� Paul said loudly as he came in through the door.

Everyone returned his greeting.

�Hey, Ceej,� he said more quietly as he sat on the arm of the couch above her. �Know what today is?�

�Mmm� no, what?� She mumbled around the fruit she was still in the process of masticating.

He dropped a box of chocolates in her. �Happy Valentine�s Day.�

�Ooh, chocolate,� both she and Billy said at once. Billy grabbed the box and started picking at the plastic as CJ stood up and wrapped her arms around Paul�s neck and kissed him twice on the lips. �Thank you, baby.

�Think this was a good Valentine�s?� Paul asked her.

She looked down at Billy as he excitedly pulled the wrapper off and held the box up to her, smiling eyes cutting her right to the quick. �You get first dibs, it�s your gift,� Billy said, grinning.

�Yeah, I think this was a good Valentine�s,� CJ replied, smiling softly back at him and picking out a caramel-filled piece.

Paul licked his lips and whispered in CJ�s ear, �Hey, where�d you get strawberries?�

All right, well, I found I couldn't make this as vicious as I wanted, as I'm just too fond of the CJ character. I might have to part ways with her because of that... else keep her only in light hearted stories. S'pose we'll see. Thanks for reading, and now that this is over, let us never speak of it again.