Excerpt from Rhiannon Mary Lougher's Diary

'Names. What are they? Names are what? So often are they used that we forget what they do. Speak a name over and over and soon you will involuntarily begin to question its meaning. The world is full of names and labels; shy, outgoing, smart, dumb, normal, weird. Yet what are these words really? Metaphors? Similes? Analogies? No, they're a cage.
A name is pulled out of society's hat, based on the way other people see us. Once a name is given, we are classified and filed away in categories, based on the actions that have attracted civilisation's attention. We're given the walk, the talk and the mask, are told this is our category, this is where we are filed, this is how we must act. We are led to our cages and locked away in the expectations of society. The mask is your acceptance to conform and assimilate, should you choose to wear it . . .'

~ * ~
May, 1998
New York City, New York
Third Week

'Blackbird sitting in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive . . .' the song continued, but that one line just kept echoing in Taylor's head, 'Take these broken wings and learn to fly'. Oh boy wasn't that the truth? He glanced at the clock. 8:42am. They were supposed to be leaving at 9:00 for another stupid TV show interview with the same round of boring questions that he could have answered in his sleep he heard them so often. At first it'd been all right, he'd thought 'Oh well, they don't really know who we are, of course they're going to ask the same questions'. It had been over a year and, even though half the shows they'd been on before, they were still asked the same stupid questions. How about they all come to him? Even better, just make a tape of all the answers and send 'em to every TV show in the country and then he wouldn't have to bother dragging himself out of bed at - he looked at the clock again - 8:48am. He really should get up. His parents would be seriously pissed if he wasn't ready and they were late for another show. His eyes darted back to the TV. A re-run of Ricki Lake's stupid talk-show. 'Ohmigod Mom, I'm turning twelve and I'm pregnant'. They were so fake it wasn't funny. Like you'd admit on national TV that you were pregnant while your Mom stood outside 'supposedly' not having a clue what was going on! And all the fights between the 'married' couples? It was almost laughable. It should have been a comedy, not a talk show! Bloody hell! He almost smiled. 'Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see, all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free. . . .' Bloody fucking hell.

Zac pounded on the door for the third time. Surely Tay couldn't still be asleep!

'Damn you taylor open the door bastard youve probably got it locked from the inside I hate getting up early cant we sleep in for once is that so much to ask yeah stay in bed and sleep and all these stupid tv dorks can go to hell I swear if they didnt have their precious teleprompters they wouldnt know who the hell we were are they that pathetic that they dont even know who they have on their dammit tay open the door!'

Tired of waiting, Zac pushed open the door, surprised to find it unlocked, even more surprised to see Taylor still in his PJs, sitting in his bed, a remote control in his hand, mindlessly watching Ricki Lake re-runs while listening to his walkman.
"Tay?" Zac said hesitantly. He got no answer. "Tay?" still no answer. Frustrated, Zac walked stormily up to his brother and yanked the earphones from Tay's ears.
"Mom is gonna go ballistic at you! She wants to know if you're ready to go; obviously not. You better get dressed before she comes in,"
Nothing.
"Man, what the hell is wrong with you?!"
Taylor exploded.

Hurriedly, Diana ran to the door to Taylor's room, amidst shouts and crashes coming from behind it. She threw it open and her frantic steps into the room were halted when she saw what was happening. The door banged hard against the wall, but neither Zac nor Taylor noticed.
"God fucking dammit, there's nothing fucking wrong with me!!" Tay had Zac by the collar, "You think I'm crazy you fucking little bastard!!" Taylor shouted madly, bashing his little brother against the wall. Despite the already ripe purple bruises on his face, the splitting pain in the back of his head and the confused and angry tears trickling down his cheeks, Zac screamed back at him.
"You're crazy! You're bloody insane!"
"FUCK YOU!!" and Taylor slammed him back into the wall again.
"Walker!!" horrified, Diana screamed and rushed to Zac's aid. Walker was in the room in a flash, dragging the still-shrieking Taylor off his helpless brother. Collapsing into his mother's arms, Zac let go of all the tears he was holding back. Both his parents were furiously shouting at him, his Dad had his wrists in a death-grip but Taylor didn't notice. He screamed out in terrified defiance at them. Not at his parents or his little brother, but at the words. 'Mad', 'crazy', 'insane'; they pounded in his head more fiercely than the blood pounding at his temples.
'No! Stop! STOP!!'
And they did. Suddenly, Taylor sagged, all the strength gone from his body; Walker almost didn't catch him. He could hear his parents still raving above his head; what they said, he couldn't make any sense of the words, nor did he try. It had scared the hell out of him. Was that the Voices Rhiannon had mentioned only once, but with enough fear for it to be engraved on his mind's stone tablet forever more?
"Nothing wrong. . . ." he murmured, staring at the electronic snow dancing across the TV screen. Despairingly, Walker and Diana looked one another in the eye. What was happening to their son?

Lying exhausted on the leather couch, Tay heard his mother tell Doctor Jones everything. He could hear the despair and hopelessness in her voice; she was giving up on him. She didn't say it, but he knew what she was thinking, 'If Doctor Jones can't make him better, I've got no choice then but to talk to Siberian Airways. I wonder if they'd have a listing of psychiatric wards handy?'. Strangely, that didn't bother him; he'd finally accepted it. He was mad. The door softly clicked closed.
"Hello Taylor, how are you today?" Doctor Jones said, a little less cheerfully than normal. She got nothing, not even an angry grumble. But it wasn't a defiant nothing, it was a depressed nothing. Doctor Jones sighed. She was losing him. The defiance was a barrier she was familiar with, anger was something she knew how to approach. But Taylor was slipping into acceptance, had resigned himself to the madness slowly taking over his brain. So long as there was anger and defiance, Doctor Jones knew he would fight, push the madness back with both hands, but accepting meant he would simply let it crawl over him and swallow him up. She couldn't let that happen; she wouldn't let that happen! But how? What was it that was dragging him down? What was it that kept him from trusting her? There was only one way she knew to find out.
"Taylor, I want you to close your eyes all right?" obediently, he did so. Momentarily, Doctor Jones panicked. Was he that far gone? "Concentrate on my voice. You cannot hear anything else. I want you to relax; take deep breaths and relax," she spoke slowly, her voice as smooth and as languid as syrup. Taylor's whole body slowly lost the tension stored inside it. Diana had mentioned the dark circles getting heavier under his eyes. No wonder; if he was that tense, of course he wouldn't be getting enough sleep!
"You're feeling very tired, I want you to rest," Taylor's breathing became deeper and more regular. "The sun is shining on your eyes. You want to open your eyes, but you can't. The light is too bright," he turned his head away from the closed window. "You can still hear my voice," the slight movement of his blond head told her that he could, "I'm going to tickle your palm now. Just enough to make you smile," she jabbed his hand with a pin. He smiled. There was hardly more than a drop of blood. It had worked then, he was hypnotised.
"All right Taylor, I want you to go back. Go back to the time when something happened. The something that is keeping you from trusting me," Slowly, his eyes opened. His pupils were dilated; he was focusing on something in the distance. Something in the past . . .

~ * ~
December 31st, 1995
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
New Year's Eve

"What time are you performing?"
"Whenever,"
"You don't know?"
"I don't care, so long as we get to play," Taylor's blue eyes sparkled with anticipation. Biting into a Macca's 'apple' pie - she always chuckled her mocking little laugh at that, they weren't even real apples! - Rhiannon turned her deep brown gaze back to her book. 'Mists Of Avalon' it was called. She loved it! Morgaine reminded her of herself. They were at the Oklahoma City Opening Night; the whole day they'd talked and walked around the stalls and exhibits - much to Tay's disappointment, there was no pie-throwing contests. All through he'd noticed Rhiannon - in black jeans, a black baby-tee (with a striking magenta and white explosion and a glittering gold ankh on the front), a black cardigan with one button done up at the neck, over it all a brown leather jacket and cherry Docs - had been a lot quieter than her usual quiet self. Absently, she scrunched up the empty 'apple' pie container and dropped it on the ground. Taylor just watched her. She had a Native American style choker around her neck; long wooden beads with white and translucent red short beads in between, her dark hair fell loose past her waist, her black gloves both had holes in between the thumb and the first finger. She must have been freezing!
"Aren't you cold?"
"Pardon?" she looked up from her book.
"I asked if you were cold,"
"Oh," she smiled, and then it disappeared, "No, I'm not," and she turned back to her book. They sat in silence for what seemed to Taylor like ages, was actually only a couple of minutes.
"Rhee what's wrong?" he finally blurted out, unable to take the silence any more.
"What makes you think there's something wrong?" just the look in her eyes and the way she spoke told him he'd hit the nail right on the head.
"You've been awful quiet today,"
"So? I could just be tired!" she snapped.
"If you were tired, you would have stayed home and slept," the bastard! He knew her better than she did herself! Of course she would have stayed home if she'd been tired, she hated people yawning in her face, so she refused to do it to anyone else. The bastard! "Come on Rhee, tell me what's wrong," she sighed, turned the page corner over to mark her spot and lay down on the red tartan blanket. How could she tell him?
"The Voices," the fear in her voice was so intense, Tay could feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck.
"The what?"
"The Voices,"
"What are they?"
"There's millions of them, they're so strong, they keep calling me, trying to take me back -"
"Back where?" Tay asked, she didn't hear
"I don't want to go, but they keep attacking me, pulling me back. I fight them and they go away, but they always come back. I can't stop them, I can't keep fighting them! They're taking over and I can't stop them! I have to fight! Can't fight! Too weak! -"
"Rhee! Stop it!!" Taylor shouted at her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Come back Rhee!" she opened her eyes
"What?" not really knowing what he was doing, he hugged her hard. She'd scared the hell out of him. Not really thinking, she hugged him back. She'd scared the hell out of herself.

"It all started in the 77th street, when we were just thirteen, I had no cares at all. . . ." Rhiannon smiled. She couldn't help but think how cute Tay looked up there. Twelve years old, bouncing away behind his keyboards, singing about love, something he'd certainly never experienced. It was cruel; she knew he hated it when he heard people in the audience saying 'Oh my isn't that just priceless? They're so cute!', let alone his best friend! But she couldn't help it! He looked totally adorable!
"Until I saw you, in the corner of my eye . . ." and the Voices blasted on her mind.

So absorbed in singing, Taylor didn't notice what had happened until the concerned voices of the crowd began to drown out their singing and the audience began to look behind them. Then he heard it. A scream, long and pregnant with agonised torture. There was no doubt in his mind who it was. Without thinking he stopped singing, jumped off the stage and pushed through the gathering crowd of people. The scream came again, sending shivers down his spine. He grabbed a girl by the arm and practically threw her out of the way. Rhiannon was on the ground, clawing the grass, a fist clenched at her temple.
"No! NO!! STOP!! GO AWAY!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"
"Rhiannon! Rhiannon!!" the crowd was buzzing, thinking that maybe she was epileptic. Ike pushed his way beside Taylor.
"What the hell is happening?"
"I don't know!!" thinking quickly, he pushed Tay back into the crowd.
"Go find her parents!" then he turned to the gathered people, "Does anyone have a mobile?" a woman near him grabbed a black mobile phone from her bag and thrust it into his hand. Zac was beside him  now, panicking.
"What's wrong? Oh my God! She's freaking! She's being possessed! Everybody run for your lives, Rhee's turning into an alien! It'll kill us all! -"
"Zac! Breathe!" Ike shouted at his little brother as he quickly dialled 911.

January 1st, 1996
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
New Year's Day

Doctor Mark Polanski, in his white coat and with his stethoscope around his neck, walked down the disinfected hospital corridor. Most people couldn't stand the smell of hospitals; he for one, thought it was quite pleasant. Maybe he was just used to it. What was it now that had dragged him from his New Year's present to himself and a lonely widow he'd befriended recently? Approaching the nurse's station, he put on a sweet smile and asked the junior there, in much more flattering language, just what the hell was he needed so urgently for?
"Um . . ." the young woman blushed. The good doctor was certainly a good looker, "I'm not sure what you were needed for Mark - may I call you Mark? . . ." after several tries, he finally got the bumbling idiot of a nurse to ask someone who actually knew what the hell was going on and found out that his favourite - he smiled slightly at the sarcasm of his own thoughts - patient, Rhiannon Lougher'd had some kind of attack and had been brought to the hospital. She was in room 704 on the fourth floor. The psychiatric ward. Not only was he a qualified surgeon, he also had a Ph.D in both psychology and psychiatry. The elevator bell rang, signalling his floor.
"Doctor Polanski, we're sorry to inconvenience you," Arian Lougher stood up and sent a thankful gaze his way. Without making it obvious, he took off her clothes with his eyes. He'd always thought this one was a beauty.
"Thank-you for coming at such short notice," Lew added, his hands on his wife's shoulders. That Welsh accent, so alluring in Arian, coming from Lew only got on the doctor's nerves.
"Not a problem. What are we doctors for?" Doctor Polanski said with that reassuring smile that all doctors have to have perfected before they get their Ph.D's. "So what happened?"
"I'm not sure. Taylor went and got us when it happened, but by the time we got to her, the paramedics had already sedated her," glancing at the paramedics report in his hand, Doctor Polanski promised himself to read it later.
"Did anyone here see what happened?" everybody turned to look at three boys with long blond hair sitting in plastic chairs.
"Um . . ." the middle one said hesitantly, "Uh . . ."
"What happened?" the doctor asked impatiently.
"We . . . we were playing . . . and she just . . . I don't know . . . I think she just collapsed. She was screaming and had her fists at her temples . . . like somebody with a really bad migraine only ten times worse," Doctor Polanski jotted down what Tay had said, noting also the look of suppressed knowing between Arian and Lew.
"I think I'll go and see how our patient's doing now," and he turned towards room 704. When he was far enough away from the waiting room, he let a smile spread all the way across his face. How many years had he wanted to classify this girl totally insane? She was a waste of his time, she didn't want to listen to him, she refused his help. She was a defiant, stubborn, insolent child who'd made a fool of him more than once before. Oh yes, he'd get his revenge now. How long had he tried to convince her parents that she needed electroshock therapy?
'Oh yes, revenge is sweet!' he thought with malicious relish.
He stopped outside room 704 and took a deep breath before pushing open the door.

The screams brought everyone from the waiting room plus a whole herd of nurses to room 704. Doctor Polanski was on the ground, trying to dodge the object being thrown at him by a terrified girl.
"Rhiannon Mary Lougher you stop that right now!" Arian shouted, embarrassed and outraged. She walked purposefully over to her daughter, was surprised to find that Rhiannon nestled against her, her arms clasping her mother tight. Now that he was not being bombarded with books and plastic jugs, Doctor Polanski got to his feet and brushed the imaginary dirt off his coat. Slowly, he approached the girl. She squirmed against her mother, desperately trying to get away. He got too close; she screamed in terror. Surprised - and inwardly delighted - Doctor Polanski backed away.
"It's okay honey," Arian whispered to her daughter, "It's only Doctor Polanski, he's here to help you sweetheart,"
"No," Rhiannon muttered and hugged her mother tighter.
"Okay everyone, I think she just wants to be by herself," with that, Doctor Polanski herded everybody out.

Rhiannon smiled and it touched a cord in Taylor's heart as he walked in. She looked so lonely. Rhee didn't belong in hospital, she should have been in her room, or sitting on the tyre swing in the Lougher's backyard, not in a white hospital bed that reeked of starch and disinfectant.
"I'm glad you came," she looked over his shoulder, "Where's Liz?"
"Right here," racing into the room, Elisabette giggled and jumped onto the white sheeted bed. "Oh, hard bed this time,"
"Yeah, they just keep getting worse and worse! I can barely sleep in this one as it is," she answered, pounding a fist on the hard mattress, then turned a glance towards Tay. "You just gonna stand there?" with a shrug of the shoulder, Tay climbed up next to Liz. She was right. This bed was hard.
They talked about everything, their New Year's resolutions, went over the things they'd gotten for Christmas for the billionth time, just anything.
"And then Carlton and Dad fall onto the pool cover, one of the ties breaks and they get drenched in freezing cold water!" laughing, Rhiannon recounted one of her favourite 'how embarrassment' stories, "Mom wouldn't let either of them out of bed for two days the water was that cold! I swear I saw some mini icebergs floating around in it!" there was a pause of silence. Tay caught his friend's eye. One question had been burning in his mind ever since the scene in her room the day before.
"Rhee, who was that guy?"
"What guy?"
"The one that you were throwing things at yesterday," the smile faded from her lips. She and Liz looked one another in the eyes. What were they not telling him?
"He's my . . . um . . . my . . ."
"He's her shrink," Liz finished for her.
"Shrink?! You need a shrink?"
"No I don't need a shrink! Especially not that one! I hate him!"
"Why?"
"He wants to give me electroshock therapy. He's been trying to convince my parents to let him do it for years," putting a horrified look on his face, Taylor stared. He had no idea what electroshock therapy was. A pensive silence settled over them. Brightening the conversation, Liz went off on a tangent about the Macca's she'd had for lunch. Both Rhee and Tay, grateful for the change of subject, pounced on it.

"Okay kids," a big nurse came in, three nurses wheeled a stretcher in behind her, "Visiting time's up," Liz and Taylor climbed down off the bed and stood to one side, watching as the nurses helped a puzzled Rhiannon onto the stretcher.
"What's going on?" she asked. Elisabette echoed her best friend's question to a nurse standing near them.
"Don't worry, your friend'll be all right," the nurse smiled and laid a hand on Liz's shoulder, "Come on, let's leave them to it," Liz didn't want to go, but her legs wouldn't obey her as she walked out. The nurses bustled around Rhiannon, no-one was listening to her. Frustrated, she grabbed one of the nurses and spoke very slowly, so the woman would understand,
"What is going on? Where are you taking me?"
"You'll be fine hon, we're just taking you down to surgery, it'll all be over before you know it,"
"Surgery?! Nobody told me anything about surgery! What kind of surgery?" they were wheeling her out now. Without thinking, Tay followed beside her.
"Electroshock therapy," the nurse looked confused; weren't patients normally told when they were going into surgery? Doctor Polanski said the girl was mad as a hatter, maybe she had been told and just . . . well . . . forgotten.
"WHAT?!?" and Rhiannon began to fight. She pushed the nurses away and tried to get out of the stretcher, shouting at them to leave her alone.
"Taylor! Taylor help me!!" he just stood there, struck dumb, "I don't want to go! Make them stop! I don't want to go, leave me alone!! Get away!! STOP!!! HELP ME!!!" and she started screaming, scratching and hissing like a cat, desperately trying to get away.
"HELP ME TAYLOR!!!!" staring in horror, Taylor watched as the stretcher stopped and the nurse took out a needle. Rhiannon's scream was cut short as the nurse sedated her. The corridor was dead silent now as they wheeled the stretcher into the operating theatre.
Taylor wanted to be sick. His stomach heaved in his throat, and he had to swallow it back down. His knees wanted to buckle, he grabbed the railing along the wall to stop himself from falling.
"Don't worry lad, everything'll be fine. Rhiannon's going to be fine," Tay turned stricken eyes towards the voice. Doctor Polanski.
"What's going to happen to her?" the boy asked in a voice not his own. He didn't miss the brightening of the doctor's eyes. Pulling on his plastic surgical gloves, Doctor Polanski explained the process in grossly vivid detail. Swallowing the bile back down again, Tay had the sudden impulse to be sick all over the 'good' doctor's nice black shoes. They were going to do that to Rhee? This arrogant quack was going to do that to - Enraged, Taylor threw himself at the doctor, kicking and punching and biting as hard as he could.
"Leave her alone!!" he shrieked, "She hates you! Leave my best friend alone!!!" hands grabbed at Tay's arms, pulling him away. He fought them, trying to get back at the doctor who dared to try and hurt his best friend!
"Taylor, calm down!" the stern voice of his father filled the boy's ears, "Stop it right now!" Tay kept struggling. With one last disgusted look, Doctor Polanski turned. Sickening horror and dread filled Tay as he helplessly watched the doctor walk down the corridor into the operating theatre, shutting the door behind him.

~ * ~
May, 1998
New York City, New York
Third Week

"When I count to three, you'll wake up . . . one . . . two . . . three," Taylor opened his eyes. There were tears running rivers down his cheeks. He looked around. Where was he? Where was the hospital corridor, the white walls and the overpowering smell? Where was Doctor Polanski? He went to grab his pocket-knife. He'd slit the whoring bastard's throat! Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he saw Doctor Jones sitting there, a look of gentle understanding on her face. The realisation hit him like a bucket of icy water.
"Oh shit!" he buried his face in his hands. He'd told her everything.
"Here," she passed him a box of tissues. Taking a couple, he blew his nose. Dammit, every time he was stupid enough to start bawling, his nose ran like he had the worst cold the world had ever seen!
"Thank-you," he murmured, mastering his overactive tear-ducts. If she'd let herself, Doctor Jones would have smiled. It was a skill every teenager possessed, the ability to banish tears as quickly as they came.
"Well, I can understand why you were so reluctant to trust me. Mark Polanski was one horrible person,"
"You knew him?"
"Not personally, but every psychologist and psychiatrist in America knows his name," seeing the confused look on Taylor's face, Doctor Jones explained, "Last year one of his patients turned on him. He was rather over-anxious with the electroshock therapy it seems. Electroshock therapy is usually a last resort, something used when all other avenues of treatment have been exhausted. Polanski used it as primary treatment. Heaven knows how he kept it under wraps for so many years. I assume you know electroshock therapy damages part of the brain?" Taylor nodded. He hadn't known, "Well, staff at one of the hospitals he conducted surgery at became suspicious, and there was going to be an inquiry into his practice. One of his patients got to him first; walked into his office and shot him," again, Taylor just nodded. At least the bastard had gotten what he deserved. "It looks like Rhiannon was another one of his victims,"
"Yeah,"
"Taylor, when you first saw me, did you think I would be just like Doctor Polanski?" he thought about it for a long while. Not on the question, but whether he could trust her.
'God Tay, you just told her about Polanski and she didn't look at you like you were crazy! Bloody hell, I can't believe I told her about Polanski! Christ!'
"Yeah, I did," decision made, some small amount of weight lifted from his shoulders.
"Doctor Polanski I think had more than a little something to do with your hatred of psychologists," he hadn't thought of that, but instantly realised it was true.
"You got that right," three sessions and she hadn't had him committed yet; maybe this shrink wasn't so bad after all.

Looking up at the antique clock on the wall, Diana then looked at her watch. They'd been in that room for nearly two hours! If there was a pay-phone here, she would have called Walker. If she wasn't so abhorrent of rudeness, she would have knocked on the door and asked them to hurry it up! About to go back to the June, 1997 issue of Cosmo magazine, Diana heard the door open. She watched as Tay came out of Doctor Jones' office. Her jaw dropped. Taylor was smiling. He was actually smiling!
"I know this is the last time I'll be seeing you in person for a while Taylor, but you've got my number, if you ever need my help, or if you just want to talk, you call me straight away," Taylor laughed. To Diana, it was the sweetest sound in the world.
"Will do," he looked at Diana, "Hey Mom," she stared at him in amazement. Puzzled, he smiled at her, "What's the matter? Cat wire your jaw open?" it was her old Tay, back again. Jumping to her feet, Diana rushed over and hugged her son.
"Mom!" his embarrassed exclamation just made her hold him tighter. "Uh . . . you can let go of me now Mom," he said hesitantly. Blinking back tears, Diana sent a grateful glance at Doctor Jones. How could she ever thank the woman?
"C'mon Tay, hurry up or we'll be late,"
"All due respect Mom, but you're the one trying to squeeze me to death here," she laughed and let him go.
"Go on, out to the car,"
"Gladly," he walked toward the door, but turned back, "Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Can I drive?"
"Not on your life boy!"

Staring at his watch, Isaac sighed. Where on earth were they?
"Ike, stop worrying! They'll be here!" Zac said, false confidence in his voice. Inside, he was as nervous as his older brother.
"You don't think Tay's gone and . . . done something stupid?" he'd actually been thinking 'committed suicide'. The way Tay had been acting lately, Ike didn't know what to think. Shaking his head, Zac didn't trust himself to speak. They met each others' eyes, belying their words. If they got a phone call from the police asking for them to come down and identify a body found broken at the bottom of a skyscraper, neither of them would be surprised. The stage manager came up to them. He looked impatient.
"Guys we're running nearly half-an-hour late, these TV people are crawling all over my back, when is your brother going to show?"
"We don't know, he was supposed to be back an hour ago!" again the stage manager looked at his watch.
"Is there any possibility you can do this thing without your brother?" the question was beneath answering. The look Ike and Zac gave the stage manager said 'are you crazy?'. "I swear, if that brother of yours doesn't show, these TV guys are going to have my hide! -" he was about to say more when the backstage door burst open and Taylor ran in, busily pulling on a red over-shirt and tying back his hair. With an involuntary little yelp, Zac hid behind Isaac. He could still feel the bruises on his face and arms. The woman in make-up had nearly fainted when she'd seen him.
"Hey guys! Sorry I'm late," he smiled, then frowned, "What's the matter lads?" his phony British accent usually got a laugh from everyone. Not today it seemed.
"Are you feeling all right Tay?"
"Yeah, why?" suspicious, Ike and Zac looked at one another. What was going on? Tay bashes his little brother in the morning and come afternoon he's all smiles? What the hell was -
'Hang on you blithering idiot, Tay's back to normal! You actually want the depressed suicidal maniac?'
- Then again, sometimes it's better not to question, but to just accept. And that's exactly what the two brothers decided to do.

Avery was watching TV when she heard the door open. She hadn't been feeling all that well, so Diana had taken her back to the hotel when she'd dropped Taylor off. What was going on with her brother? Was he sick too? Jessie said that Zac said that Taylor was mad. That wasn't like Tay. He couldn't stay angry for two minutes let alone . . . um . . . however long it had been.
"Hey Avie," a laughing voice said before lifting her right off the couch. She squealed, half in protest, half in delight. Nobody picked her up any more! Surprised, she found herself looking into Taylor's face.
"You're not mad are you Taybear?" she asked innocently. Tay burst out laughing.
"No Avie, I'm not mad,"
"Good, you look weird when you get angry," he laughed even harder.
"Is that a compliment?" puzzled, Avie just looked at him, then whined,
"Put me down Taybear! I'm missing Rugrats!" still chuckling, he sat down on the couch, still holding her on his lap. What were these babies up to now? After a while, Avie turned to her brother again. "Do they have Nickelodeon in France?"
"I don't know. Come tomorrow, I guess you'll find out,"

* * * *

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