It had only been two days since Christine had been on a plane, but it felt like it had been several weeks. Michael sat next to her playing a Gameboy and she wouldn't admit that it was one of her favorite pass times, as well. When she wasn't reading. She had to stop herself from laughing every time his little Mario character lost a life and he got more and more frustrated. Having assumed that she'd fallen asleep at some point during the plane ride because it seemed much shorter than the last one did, Christine jerked awake when the plane halted. She looked up and saw Michael stuffing the Gameboy back into his carry on. She stood and swung her own over her shoulder.

Fourty-five minutes later, Christine was staring her older brother in the face. The two wore solemn expressions, which quickly disappeared when she flung herself into his arms and shook with repressed sobs. Michael watched awkwardly until they finally pulled apart and whispered their greetings. She turned to Michael and nodded that he should follow. Introductions would be saved for the car ride.

"Momma said you would be bringing a guest." Her brother, whom Michael learned was called Liam, said with a sly smile at his sister. "But she didn't say who you'd be bringing." Michael could feel himself blushing and it was a little hard to hide it in the front seat. Christine laughed and leaned forward in the back so that her head was between the two of them and she could be heard more easily.

"I'm just glad there weren't any theatrics and drama getting off of the plane." She said with a wide grin. It was only a little strained. "Liam...Daddy..." The smile slipped from her face and she gripped his shoulder, biting her lip. He put his hand over hers whilst stearing the car with the other.

"We'll see him in the morning. He's not doing well, Chris... I'm not sure how much longer he has. Listen to me, though. No, listen." He added urgently when his little sister showed every sign of interrupting. "This is hard for all of us. I know it's harder for you because you're a doctor. You feel obligated to cure him. You can't."

"I think that if I do just a little more research-"

"You can not read his way out of this, Christine. No books are going to save his life." Liam's tone was final and Christine let go of his shoulder, looking slightly put out but still determined. Michael thought that this was a bit harsh as he watched the tears gathering in his young employee's eyes, but kept his thoughts to himself.

It had been many years since Michael had been to New Orleans. But they were only passing through. They lived outside of the city, Christine said, on an old plantation that had been in their family for too many years to count. He was eager to see it. Neither Liam nor Christine spoke to one another again during the car ride but when they were parked in the drive, he opened her door and she graced him with a smile. They had forgiven eachother. Michael suddenly missed his own siblings very much.

Cecil Rowan, a short woman with Christine's structure and hair, was waiting on the porch for them and stood when all car doors had been closed. She hugged her to children and then hugged Michael as though he had been part of the family. Nothing was said about his fame or his money or his music. He was simply a normal person visiting a friend. No words were spoken until everyone was inside the house. It looked like the house from the movie The Skeleton Key and Michael couldn't keep his eyes from wandering most avidly across every possible item and surface. Smells wafted through the house, as well. Cecil had made dinner, a hearty meal of gumbo, corn bread, sweet tea and coffee. Very southern, Michael noted. He sat between Christine and Cecil at the table, with Liam across from them. Cecil served them whilst shooting questions at Michael about very normal things. How did he like California? What were his favorite southern foods? What did he like to do in his free time?

"Well, California is beautiful. I really enjoy living there. I'm not buttering up, but gumbo is my favorite. In my free time, I like to play video games with my kids. I also really enjoy water gun fights."

"We had our fair share of water fights when the kids were younger." Cecil smiled and offered him more gumbo, which he happily dug into.

"Christine always cheated, though. She got out the big buckets of water."

"Oh, says the boy who only used the hose. That's not cheating?" Liam and Christine had rather large grins on their faces as they light-heartedly argued. Michael laughed with them.

After the lot of them, Michael included, cleaned up after dinner, Christine showed him to her room. She slowly opened the door, expecting to find the mess she'd left, but found that it was clean and organized. Her mother must have gotten her hands on it. A small smile of relief graced her features as she showed him in. It wasn't decorated in a girly fashion as he'd expected. The walls were different shades of blue and teal that accented the room and made it feel bigger than what it actually as. The full sized bed had plain white sheets and a beige duvet atop of it. His heels clicked on the hardwood floor as he turned and assessed. It was very tasteful, but not something he'd have expected from a barely-adult female. He turned to her with one eyebrow arched.

"No pink?" He asked in a borderline mocking voice.

"I'm actually not that fond of pink. I prefer cooler colors, it helps to keep me from getting scatter-brained." Realizing just how much of a nerd she sounded, Christine grinned and turned back to the door. "Uhm, everything's clean, so feel free to fall right in. I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Christine, are you sure? I can take the couch." She shook her head quickly and waved him off.

"No, that's silly. You get the bed. I'm happy to take the couch." She walked back toward him quickly and swiftly kissed him on the cheek, then left the room with a soft 'Good night'. She left him to stand there staring at the closed door for far too long before he finally got into bed.

Christine's hand shook while she applied her makeup and attempted to tame the wild mane of curls attached to her head. She was looking forward to seeing her father, but what she was nervous about was seeing him in his condition. Michael leaned in the doorjam and watched her with some interest as she applied her mascara with one hand while the other held her hair out of her face.

"Why is it that women put their mascara on with their mouths open?" He asked a little absently, but continued to watch her intently. Her mouth snapped shut immediately, but she seemed to struggle with the wand after that and let it fall open again.

"I really couldn't tell you. Must be one of those imponderables." He laughed and watched as she struggled with her hair.

"Here," He said and moved to stand behind her. He took her thick curls in his hands, twisted it, and secured the knott with a tie she handed him. She looked up at his face in the mirror and cleared her throat. He smiled and his hand trailed from her hair down the back of her neck to rest on her shoulder. Chills ran down her spine when his other hand rested on her waist and turned her to face him. Christine was late in realizing how quickly she was breathing and how close he was. She flinched involuntarily when she heard her mother's voice calling them down to go.

"I'm staying here," Michael said when she looked at him curiously. He hadn't moved from his spot when she had turned to leave. "It's not a good idea for me to...you know..." She nodded her understanding with a small smile and hurried downstairs to her mother and her brother.

Jason Rowan looked like death. Christine had a hard time looking away from him. She could tell that he wasn't entirely coherent. He looked as though he didn't recognize any of them at first, but when she sat on the edge of his bed and held his hand, realization struck his face and he reached up with twitching fingers to touch her face. Her mother and brother stood back away from them while Chrisitine tried to hold her tears back and Jason smiled up at her. She expected that he would have a lung machine, but he didn't. He as breathing just fine on his own. He had the occasional twitch, but other than that he was moving just fine. It was his occasional vacant expression and pale complexion that gave him away.

It was strange being back in the hospital she'd left only two days ago. It was as if she'd never left, but like she'd been away for a very long time. Strange. She stood up, sniffling back her tears, and looked through his chart. With MS advanced this far, he'd had the expected hallucinations, but no siezures yet. She breathed a sigh of relief. Frank was also his attending, another relief. At least it was someone close to the family that they were all comfortable with. Frank, as though he'd sensed their presense, entered the room and smiled mockingly.

"You're violating HIPPA laws, Christine. Although, it doesn't surprise me." He took the chart from her and flipped through it himself.

"He's my father." She countered. "I'm at liberty to know what's going on with my father." Frank nodded in agreement.

"Fair enough," He said. "How's your new job going? Still mad at me?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'll think about it. How's my father? Has he been eating? How have the nights been? Has he-?"

"Relax, Christine. While he's been here, he's been perfectly fine." It seemed that everything in her world had been put on a timer. As Christine glanced over her shoulder, Jason went into convulsions and his monitors beeped frantically. Christine shoved past Frank and pressed her father's head to the mattress to tame some of the twitching and shaking.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" She shouted over the monitors. "Ativan! Stat!"

She doubted she'd get much sleep after that. Liam drove home while Cecil sobbed relentlessly in the back seat. Christine sat in the front and stared out the window. Liam rubbed her shoulders to comfort her but she knew that he was just as troubled as she was. He pulled into the drive and the two of them helped Cecil out of the car, into the house and into bed. They'd spent most of the day at the hospital after Jason's seizure and the sun was setting behind the house. Christine went immediately to the liquor cupboard. She wasn't usually a drinker, but she also hadn't brought any sleep aids and alcohol was the closest thing to it. And the closest thing to her. Liam kissed the top of her head, denied her offer for a drink and retired to bed.

"You shouldn't drink alone." A soft voice said from behind her. Christine jumped and spun around. Michael was watching her, as he often did. She sighed and turned back around to the table and poured herself a drink. Straight vodka. He sat down next to her and shook his head.

"You gonna drink with me?" She asked, tilting the bottle toward him. Michael wasn't usually a drinker, either, but he didn't want her to do it alone. He took the bottle from her, picked up a second tumbler and poured himself a drink.

"Cheers," Christine raised her glass to him and tossed back the vodka. It felt funny going down and she winced.

"I don't drink often." Michael said, wincing as well.

"Oh, neither do I. But I think I'm at liberty right now. You don't even want to know about my day."

"Tell me," Michael said and nudged her playfully in the arm with his shoulder. She slid him a skeptical look, raised eyebrow and all, and shrugged. Christine launched into her story, recieving full participation from Michael in the form of facial expressions and even hugs. They'd finished almost the entire bottle of Grey Goose vodka and stumbled up to Christine's room. It seemed like a very quick night. It was almost midnight. They stopped at the door and Christine looked up at him to say goodnight. She moved forward to kiss his cheek like the night before and the next thing she knew, her mouth was pressed to his. Quickly realizing what she was doing, she stepped backward and waited for him to shout that she was fired, gather up his things and leave.

He wasn't shouting. He wasn't leaving. He was pulling her closer. He was kissing her back. His arms locked around her waist like a vice and she fumbled with the door knob. They didn't bother with the lights, they didn't bother with anything but closing the door behind them.