"Thanks, babe," he said. He reached out and grabbed the shirt he'd left sitting on the roof of the truck.

"Come on." I took his hand and led him into the truck. He got in the driver's side, and I got in on the other. The windows were open, and I rested my feet on the sill. I leaned back into the old leather seating and turned my head to Jonas. "Feeling better?" I asked.

"What?" he said as he looked my way.

"Hermione. She told me you weren't feeling well last night."

"I'm fine," he told me.

He was faking, and I could tell, even without reading his mind. The strange tingling began in my hands, and it was an itch I didn't know how long I could ignore. Instead of vigorously scratching my palms, I reached over and put the back of my hand against his cheek. He pulled away from me.

"Jonas," I said. I was suddenly filled with worry. Jonas, being cold blooded, has a normal body temperature of about seventy one degrees. Mine's ninety seven point one, which I am told is not really normal, but oh well. It was easy to feel the heat off his skin. "You know you can tell me anything."

He looked at me with those golden eyes. His smile was slight and somewhat forced. "I know," he said.

I raised my eyebrow.

"Okay," he said. "So I'm not feeling so great. So sue me."

"You have no money," I said. "Jonas, why didn't you say something last night?"

"Because I was fine last night," he said. "I went to bed at about one thirty. I got up at one forty five feeling pretty c.r.a.ppy. I got a drink and found Hermione in the kitchen, and she said she'd make me some tea. You really can't say no to Hermione's witch doctor medicines. Then I went back to bed and she brought me her stupid concoction. I'm okay. Really."

"Liar," I said.

He rolled his eyes at me, a little trick he'd been using more and more often, one he picked up from me.

So I leaned over and put my hand against his cheek again. This time he didn't pull away, only leaned into my touch. "We should go inside."

"Not until I get this truck started again," he said to me. "I think I have an idea on how."

Since I knew he wasn't to be deterred, I said, "Wanna know how good a mind reader I am?"

"Every day," he said.

I pulled my feet back into the truck and got out. He moved to follow, and I motioned for him to stay put. "Just go through everything you'd do yourself, and I'll follow your instructions. Think clearly and in order or I'll get confused."

Jonas eyed me suspiciously, then did as he was told. I followed his thought-out directions, reading deeply into his mind to keep myself on track. I don't know what I did, but I did what he wanted to do. I used this tool, tweaked this thing or the other thing. I found myself bent over the engine of a pickup truck, doing repairs I never thought possible, but with Jonas's help, I was able to do everything correctly. When I discovered Jonas thinking about the round curve my a.s.s made as I bent over the truck, I smiled and chewed on my ever-chewed bottom lip. I enjoyed being the centerfold in Jonas's imagination.

After a few minutes, I put the last tool back in the tool box, brushed my hands together and leaned in through the driver's side window. "Start her up," I said.

Jonas stuck the key in the ignition, turned it, and the truck roared to life.

"Yes!" I shouted triumphantly. I pumped a fist in the air for emphasis.

Jonas grinned at me. "How'd you do that?"

I tapped my temple. "If it's in your head, it can be in mine."

Jonas reached behind him and pulled his old red rag from his pocket. He used it to wipe some dirt off the temple I'd just tapped then handed me the rag so I could wipe my hands. Then he leaned over and rolled up the pa.s.senger side window and his own window, turned the key, and got out of the truck.

"Inside," he said. "Now."

I moved out of his way as he shut the door to the truck.

"Come on, babe," he said.

I slipped my hand into his, and we went together.

Inside the Commune, I forced Jonas to go to his bedroom where I made him lie down. Since I was all dirty from working on the truck, I decided to go take another shower. When I dried off, except for my hair, I went back in to check on him. He lay on his side, his eyes closed tightly. He was nearly snoring, but not quite so I didn't want to disturb him. I did though.

"Jonas?" I said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed nearest to his head.

"Hhm?" he muttered then said, "I was dreaming about you."

I snorted laughter. "You were not. You were dreaming about Keira Knightly. What is it with that girl, anyway?"

"She's hot," Jonas said. "You're not so bad yourself."

I ran my fingers down his cheek. "You're hot," I told him. "But not in a good way."

"Hey," he said, opening his eyes to give me the appropriate look. Then he reached up and ran his hand through my wet locks. "Never seen you with wet hair. I kinda like it."

"Are you okay?" I asked him, trying to divert my own mind from its logical train of thought. I should have done it right then and there, but I was hiding myself, had been successful at such for so long that I didn't want to out myself...not yet.

"I've seen better days," he said.

I found myself leaning over to kiss his temple. "I'll let you sleep."

I rose and went to leave, but his iron grip suddenly had my wrist.

"Stay," was all he said.

One word broke my heart into tiny little pieces. That same heart began to beat faster and I sat back down. "I'll stay," was my answer. He said nothing, only closed his eyes and, with my help though not knowing I'd been of any help in that, he drifted off to sleep. "I'll stay," I whispered once he started to snore.

Stay I did. I crawled into bed behind him and put my arm around his waist, my hand resting lightly on his stomach. I found it quite easy to fall asleep beside him, especially since I hadn't slept the night before. His snoring was soothing, even though it grew louder as he drifted off deeper into dreamland. I liked it. It was probably some of the most restful sleep I'd had in a while, even though my dreams were disturbingly vivid retellings of the accident that wasn't, which was beginning to feel quite normal to me.

Chapter Thirteen.

I woke with tears on my cheeks to the sound of my dreams dying away in my head. I could still hear the crunch of the car and my father's cries of pain. Strangest thing of all, I woke alone. In many ways, I was glad of this; glad Jonas didn't see me wake up crying. I hated my tears, despised them even. I didn't want to take the time to explain. Jonas being gone from the room gave me time to compose myself before going to find him.

He was out on the front porch. It was just after dawn and he'd seen the sun rise. I joined him, quietly sneaking through the house so as not to wake anyone else. I went outside to sit beside him on the porch swing.

"You shouldn't be out here," I said.

"I'm okay, Chris," he said.

I didn't bother to correct him, on either point. He'd gotten in the habit of calling me such, and I still tried really hard not to mind. "You're not okay," I said.

"You stayed with me all night," he said.

It occurred to me only just then I'd slept away the previous day and through the night.

"I figured you'd get tired of my snoring."

"You don't snore." I lied. He snored like a one of those pug dogs with the squished faces.

"Starch says I snore," Jonas said, and then he dipped his head and ran his hands over his face.

I moved closer to him. "Starch lies," I said quietly.

"You lie, sweetheart," he said.

"Jonas," I whispered. I eyed him for a moment before saying his name more forcefully.

"All right, Chris," he said, turning to face me. "I feel like h.e.l.l. I got food poisoning when I was a kid. From eating G.o.ds-knows-what in the desert after I got away. That is what this feels like. And I don't really like it."

"I don't like it either," I said. "Let's go back inside, huh?"

"Just let me look at you in the dawn light for a minute," he said.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Come on." I rose and offered my hand.

He took my offered hand, and I pulled him to his feet. He leaned against me, and I could barely hold his weight. All ninety pounds of me trying to hold up all two hundred some pounds of him did not work well. We made it to the doorway and he leaned up against the wall.

"Chris," he said in a harsh whisper then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed.

My first instinct was to scream Starch's name as Jonas. .h.i.t the ground like a ton of bricks. Starch came running, still in the sweats and tee he always wore to bed. He was barefooted, I saw, as he bent down next to me.

"What happened?" Starch asked, his intense blue eyes finding mine.

"He pa.s.sed out," I said quickly. "He's sick."

"Jonas doesn't get sick," Starch said.

"He does," I said back. "Help me get him inside."

Starch called out for Pete, who stood nearby, having risen upon hearing my frantic yelling. Between the two of them, they managed to get Jonas inside and into his room. They laid him out on the bed, and I knelt at Jonas's head. I reached into his fevered mind and brought him around.

"What happened?" he asked upon seeing me.

"Don't talk," I said. "You just pa.s.sed out, that's all. You'll be okay."

"I'm not so sure," he said quietly.

When I looked up again, I saw everyone crowded into the doorway. "We need to get him some help," I said, still unable to bring myself to simply use my hands and reveal my own true nature.

Hermione was the one who stepped forward. Philip, I found out later, had left very early that morning on business, and when he left, Hermione always took over as head of household. "We can't take him anywhere," she said.

I swallowed, feeling fear grip my heart.

"If we take him to a hospital, or even to a doctor, they'll find out where we are."

I didn't even need to ask who "they" were. Yet I was determined. "We have to do something."

Hermione came to me and put a hand on my shoulder to move me out of the way. She bent beside Jonas and laid her hand on his forehead, feeling the fever burning within him. She looked deep into his eyes then rose, shaking her head. Jonas closed his eyes when she moved away, as if accepting this as her diagnosis.

I caught Hermione's thoughts without even knowing I was doing it. "You can't just let him die," I said forcefully.

"There's nothing we can do except wait to see if he pulls through," she told me. She dipped her head slightly, horns and all, not wanting to meet my eyes.

"Wait?" I said loudly, taking a step towards her. "Wait!" I clenched my fists at my sides. "Wait for what? Wait for him to die so we can bury him in an unmarked grave somewhere in the desert?"

"Christiana," Starch said in a very gentle voice. His hand fell on my shoulder, and I threw it off.

"I don't just stand back and watch people die!" I yelled. "You're all his friends. Do something!"

"What do you want us to do?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice calm. "We all agreed on this when we came here. If one of us gets sick, and n.o.body here can help, we do not go to a hospital. We do not call a doctor."

"Well that's a stupid rule," I growled, but it was one I was well aware of. Before saying my next words I reached out and mentally pushed Jonas into a deep enough sleep so he wouldn't hear. Before I blew like Mount Vesuvius, I should say instead. "Get out!" I hollered. "All of you get the h.e.l.l out of this room! You all can just stand back and let him die, but I'll have none of it! Get out!"

Hermione made the biggest mistake at that moment. "Chris, we can't-"

Lava should have been spewing from the top of my head, I screamed so loud. "Don't call me Chris!"

Everyone actually took a step away from me, including Starch. Jonas didn't move, he was so deeply asleep.

I stalked to the door like a tiger, put my hand on the door jamb and faced down Hermione. "If you don't get out of here now, I will put you out myself. Like Jonas, you will not be getting up again. Now. Get. Out!"

That did it. Hermione, fuming, turned and walked down the hall in a huff. The others followed, all except for Starch who lingered in the room, but only briefly. When he walked out, I grabbed his upper arm and faced his beautiful blue eyes and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean you."

"That's okay, Chris. Christiana," he corrected instantly.

"You can call me that," I said. "And you can stay."

"You stay with him," Starch said, gripping my upper arm. "You love him. You stay. Just let me know, okay?"

I nodded my head, and he released me. He went to the door and closed it silently behind him. I stared at the door for a moment before going to turn the lock.

Then Starch's words came back. "Love," he had said. I knew I loved Jonas. I hadn't known it had been so obvious. A certain four letter word played badminton in the back of my mind as I went to kneel by Jonas's head again. I didn't stay there long. I began pacing a rut in the floor, my hands clenched tightly behind my back. It didn't take me long to make my decision, and I went to kneel, one last time, by Jonas's head.

I brought him around so I could talk to him before I performed my task.