~~~~~*~~~~~

“We've not got any steak but we've got frozen peas,” Libby called from the direction of the kitchen as she rifled through the freezer section of her and Clare's American style refrigerator. Justin heard her let out a low huff before she added, “Will that do?”

He shrugged and grunted a unintelligible reply as he lay back on the couch, resting his head against the pile of cushions Libby had assembled around him to keep him comfortable. He couldn't deny that having her look after him almost made up for the pain he was experiencing from his swollen face.

Almost.

They'd taken a cab to her apartment, the journey being spent with him offering muttered grunts to her frantic questioning. Was he okay? Was he in a lot of pain? Should she take him to the emergency room? So far she hadn't grilled him about how he'd gotten himself into such a state, but he knew it was coming. He could see the curiosity in her eyes and the unspoken questions she was fighting against, and every time she opened her mouth he tensed, waiting for the inevitable.

“I don't know if it'll work as well, but it's worth a try, right?” She muttered as she entered the room carrying a bag of frozen peas in one hand and a packet of painkillers in the other. Justin didn't have the heart to tell her he'd already taken some that Joey had slipped to him on their way out of the club. Joey was no stranger to a black eye – he kept an emergency kit on him, just in case.

Libby walked around the perimeter of the couch and sat down beside Justin's outstretched legs. She gave the bag of peas a few squeezes to evenly distribute the contents before reaching out to tenderly place it against his bad eye. Justin fought back an expletive as the cold sent his nerve endings into a frenzy, and he squeezed his good eye shut and gritted his teeth against the pain. Whatever good Libby thought the cold would do, he wasn't sure it was working.

“Sorry,” she said as she lifted the bag away from his face and grimaced at his pained expression. “Does that hurt?”

He glowered at her with his good eye. “What gave you that impression?” he quipped sarcastically.

Libby's mouth twitched, but she managed to rein it in before it spread into a full-blown grin. Which was fortunate as Justin wasn't in the mood to be laughed at. She watched him, leaning back slightly in her seat, regarding him with barely concealed concern, and it wasn't long before she was uttering the words he'd been anticipating since they'd left the club.

“Who did this to you?”

He hesitated, wishing he'd taken some time to plan an answer to that question. In the end he just muttered a 'huh?' and avoided her eyes. The painkillers were starting to kick in and he could feel the edges of everything softening, particularly his usually sharp wit. He wasn't in a good place to discuss this right now. Not without getting himself into a heap of trouble that is.

“Don't pretend you didn't hear me, Justin. Who did this?”

He glanced at her sheepishly and could tell at once by her expression that he was in trouble. Deep trouble. Now she'd tended to his wounds – or so she thought – she'd moved onto stage two – interrogation – and he knew that nothing but the truth would ease her curiosity. If only she didn't know him so well then he'd be able to make up some bullshit lie for her to swallow. But he knew she could always tell when he was lying. Dammit. Still it was worth a try... and so he mumbled the first thing that came into his head. Which was never a good move.

“Stuff like this happens in a club when it's packed,” he muttered lamely. “You know, people are dancing and you can easily get someone's elbow in your face...”

Libby narrowed her eyes. She wasn't buying that for a minute.

“Yeah. But that's not what happened to you, is it. Where did the blood come from?”

“Eh?”

“The blood that's soaked into your shirt.” She jabbed a finger in the direction of his chest to emphasise her point. “If it's not your blood then it has to have come from someone else. Who's is it?”

Justin stammered and glanced down at his t'shirt. He was a mess. He'd forgotten that he looked as though he'd just come from a crime zone. “I...er...”

“You got into a fight,” Libby said, no element of a question in her words. She stared at him with a burning gaze that demanded the truth. It was so intense he had to look away at the floor, the coffee table, the blank screen of the TV. Anywhere to get away from those flashing green eyes. “That's what happened,” she continued. “You got into a fight, was pulled out of it by your boys and now you're pretending like it never happened.”

Justin's eyes widened. How did she know? “I... I guess I'm not as good at--”

“Lying?” Libby demanded, interrupting him in a biting tone. “Not to me, no. I'm not stupid. I can tell when you're not being honest with me.”

Justin sighed. This is why he hadn't been honest with her. He couldn't handle the judgement in her voice... on her face. He knew what he'd done had been wrong, and now he had to re-live it once again through her reaction. It was painful. Painfully uncomfortable. Not to mention he had absolutely no idea how to go about telling her what had happened. Not without completely opening himself up to her, and there was no way that was going to happen.

“I saw JC's face when he went to find you,” she explained, finally dropping the now lukewarm peas onto the nearby coffee table. They landed with a watery splat. “I heard people talking about an argument, and when everyone left the table with these tense expressions I knew you were somehow involved.” She paused, taking time to formulate her next words. She couldn't just blurt it out. She wasn't one-hundred percent sure that her gut instincts were right, and oh, how embarrassed she'd be if she were wrong. “What happened? Please, just tell me the truth.”

Justin stared at her, unsure of how to proceed. Did she really want to hear it? And was he prepared to tell it?

“I... I'm sorry,” he stammered and her brow furrowed. She hadn't been expecting that, but it confirmed her suspicions. She knew now that it was Dan he'd gotten into an argument with, and the truth made her stomach turn over.

“Why are you sorry?”

Justin hesitated, trying to get a read on her mood. “Because it was stupid, and I know you're gonna get mad.”

“Do you?” she asked, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth like she always did when she was nervous. “Are you sure?”

He had been. Until now. “I... er... yeah.” His eyes scanned her face, surprised by the change in her. She'd lost all her fire and now looked a little... scared. Was that the right word? He couldn't get a read on her. “Are you? Mad, I mean.”

Libby's eyes dropped to her lap and to her fingers, which were tightly wound around each other. She twisted her wrist and her painted nails flashed in the dim lighting. Justin couldn't tell whether they were a dark burgundy or midnight blue, but either way he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from them. It was better than looking at her anxious, sad face.

“I'm upset that you're hurt,” she answered eventually. “Especially if it's because of me. And I'm worried you've caused trouble for yourself with the rest of the group--”

“It's not because of you,” he said sharply, and Libby's eyes flicked to his face. Dammit, he thought. Stupid painkillers giving my mouth free-reign.

“It's not?” she asked in a weak voice.

“Not directly, no.”

Internally he cringed at the bite in his words. He didn't mean to sound so edgy. He hoped she'd take it the right way – assume it was because he was in pain, not because he was trying his best to keep his defences up. To stop her knocking down the last of his protective barriers and capturing his carefully guarded heart.

Libby's face hardened and he could see the confusion in her eyes. “So, what, you're just starting fights in nightclubs now?”

He snorted a laugh, trying his best to get her off the scent. He couldn't allow her to see his weakness, of that he was convinced. Even if it meant lying to her face, he had to do it. Tonight was not the night to let his guard down, to give her a glimpse of the way he felt about her. Bullshitting was the only option.

“I meant it's not directly about you. It's more the principle of it.”

Libby's eyes narrowed and she stared at him incredulously. Only a moment or two ago he'd been completely honest with her – or so she'd thought – and now he was back to playing a role just to cover for his pride? She didn't know how to react, but she couldn't deny that it hurt to see him be so phony around her. She thought he had more respect for her than that.

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying I would have done it for any one of you girls. For you, for Clare, for Lisa... You're all like family to me. Like sisters. I wouldn't stand by and let anyone treat any of my family that way. That's why I stepped in.”

Libby bit down hard on her bottom lip as she continued to stare at him, demanding he look her in the eye when he spoke, but of course he didn't. He couldn't. His eyes jumped from the pattern on the sofa to the pile of magazines at the foot of the coffee table, even at one point to the ceiling. At no time did he meet her eyeline, and that's how she knew for sure he was lying.

What hurt the most was that he felt he needed to.

“Like sisters,” she repeated, almost letting out a little snort of disbelief at the idea. Sure, they weren't lovers, but there was too much sexual tension between them for him to try to pass her off as his little sister. The idea was ridiculous, and frankly insulting. She lifted herself off the sofa and reached for the bag of peas, anything to keep her hands busy. As she rose, his eyes flicked to her face, but this time it was she who couldn't look him in the eye. “Well then, I guess I should say thanks, bro, for standing up for me. Now, it's late... so I'm going to go to bed.”

Justin's expression turned to one of mild panic. He hadn't expected her to get up and leave. Naively, he'd assumed that they'd continue to talk it out. That he'd be able to hint at his feelings without actually having to say the words. He'd hoped she'd just know what it was he was unable to say, and that they'd be able to carry on as though nothing had happened. Was that really too much to ask?

“Libby...” He called her name but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead she made her way to the doorway, busying herself by checking the answer machine was on on the nearby phone. Justin stared at her back, willing himself to say something, anything, to stop her from walking away, but he found himself completely lost for words.

“There's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom if you need it,” she mumbled, still keeping her back turned to him. Still pretending she was fine. “Towels are in the hamper next to the sink. Clare'll probably be home some time after two but she knows you're here so she won't disturb you.”

Justin opened his mouth one final time, but Libby walked out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. He waited a few minutes just in case she returned, but when he saw the light in the hallway switch off he knew she wasn't coming back. He sunk back into the cushions and let out a disappointed sigh.

That could've gone better.

He lay there wide awake for hours wondering how he'd managed to make such a mess of things. Perhaps facing his mother's wrath at home would've been the wiser decision. At least she loved him unconditionally. She'd be angry with him, sure, but she'd still take care of him while he was hurting and tell him that she loved him.

At the rate he was going, he wondered if she'd be the only one who ever would.

~~~~~*~~~~~