[chapter eleven]

Disclaimer: If you've heard of them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please. ;-)

**

With herculean effort, Nya opened her eyes and slowly surveyed the room in which she was laying. The ceiling was no longer spinning, which was a good sign, and she didn't feel the urge to throw up, which was a very good sign.

However, she noted that a man lay in bed beside her, and that was a collossally bad sign.

The man rolled over and opened his own eyes with a groan. "Oh god." He murmured, his hand rubbing his forehead. He stopped as he spotted Nya and strugged to sit up. "Hi."

"Hi." Nya said stupidly as they stared at each other in confusion. "Have we...have we met?"

He nodded gingerly. "I'm Ron. Malec. I'm on Jimmie's crew?"

Nya nodded, equally gingerly. "We were playing poker at some point last night, right?"

"Yeah." He said. "I think I owe you about $50."

"I'll give you the $50 if you'll make this headache stop." Nya said, sitting up carefully and surveying the room. After a long pause, she and Ron's eyes met. "We didn't...um..." She shrugged apologetically, needing to hear the answer she so desperately was hoping for.

"Well, we're both still fully clothed, and I seem to remember collapsing in here without anyone else in this bed, so I think we're good here." Ron paused, then continued. "And with the way I felt last night when I fell down in here, I don't think I would have...I mean, I couldn't have..."

"Say no more. Ever." Nya finished for him.

"We're good here." Ron repeated with conviction.

Nya carefully nodded again. "Excellent news. Quite right. Just as I thought." She stood up, grasping the bedpost for support. "I'm just gonna...go home and..." She shrugged. "Kill myself."

"Hear that." Ron muttered, falling back against the pillows. "I'm gonna do that too - once the ceiling stops spinning." Nya quietly opened the door as Ron closed his eyes again. "It was good meeting you." He called as she exited the room.

"Yeah." Nya said. "You too."

Nya dimly noted that a man from Jamie's crew - who apparently caught cans for a living, if she understood him last night - was sound asleep in the hallway just outside the bedroom in which she had passed an extremely strange night.

Carefully picking her way past the littered bodies, beer cans and pizza boxes, Nya made her way to the front door, where one of the men from last night gave her a wan smile. "Hi." He said softly, trying not to disturb his fallen comrades.

"Hi." Nya said, searching her brain for his name. "Which Casey are you?" She finally asked with a twinge of embarassment.

The Casey smiled. "With a K."

"Uh-huh." Nya said. "Nice meeting you."

"You too." Kasey replied easily. "You need any help getting home?"

Nya shook her head. "No, I'm just going to stumble a few hundred yards to the left and I'll be home. But thank you."

"Sleep tight." Kasey said, holding the door for her and giving her a warm smile.

As Nya stepped out into the blinding light of dawn, she winced and carefully, cautiously and slowly made her way towards her industrial sized coffee pot, her steaming shower and her own - unoccupied - bed.

chapter twelve