"Hey," came Joey's voice, made echo-y and small by the oppressive quiet of the hotel corridor. JC turned at the sound, looked back to see Joey leaning on the doorframe, cane in a white-knuckled fist, shirtless and hair ruffled.

"Hey," he returned, too tired to say much more. He untangled his feet and got them turned around, walked with care the distance between them. "How's the leg?"

"Like shit," Joey said grimly. "But I'm dancing tomorrow, C, I don't care." He looked frustrated, bearing down heavily on the cane. "This sucks, being left behind."

JC nodded, understanding completely. "We got you covered," he said, leaning against the wall. "We'll get stools or something, do waist shots." Joey smiled, face pale under the crust of dark beard.

"How'd Wade do out there?"

"He wasn't you," JC returned, smiling slightly. "But he did all right, I guess." He rested his head on the wallpaper, hair lank and brushing his neck limply, felt his eyes drift shut.

"You look like hell," he heard Joey say, and nodded. He probably did.

It was almost four in the morning, and they had to be up at nine to prepare for the next day's shooting. JC could feel his legs giving out on him, numb and quivering with overuse. He felt sore and battered in body, mind and spirit, a sensation he was intimately familiar with at this point of the tour. If it never got harder, being in shape and fit, then it never really got any easier.

He didn't worry about it much right now, though. Joey had seen him this way before, and would again, so he closed his shaking hands over his forearms and hunched against the wall. Anyway, Joey looked almost as bad.

JC didn't think he'd ever been as scared as when he'd heard the trapdoor trigger and snap shut, hitting home with a meaty thud on Joey's leg, and hearing Joey's hoarse scream a half-second later. For a terrible instant, he'd imagined Joey without the leg, and found himself shaking too much to even breathe. Lance, who'd always seemed closest to Joey, had been the only one calm enough to talk to the paramedics that came to take him to the hospital. All JC could do was hold Joey's hand and feel cold dread crawl across his skin like ice.

"Hey," Joey said, and his free hand came up to hold JC's shoulder, a brand of warmth against remembered fear. "It's okay. I saw the doc today, he said I'd be able to dance for real in a couple of weeks, tops. No big thing, okay?"

"Yeah," JC said softly, and his hand came up to hold Joey's arm. "I? was just worried, you know?"

Joey nodded and reeled him into a hard hug. "Don't worry," he said gently into JC's hair, and JC laughed quietly, turning his face into Joey's warm shoulder, holding him tightly.

"So, you want a partner for your dances tomorrow?" he asked, muffled because of Joey's skin, and felt Joey nod.

"Yeah, cause otherwise I'm gonna screw the whole thing up. It's a lot harder dancing on your own, you know?"

"Yeah," JC said, and made himself let go. Joey was smiling, and he felt himself smile back.

"So," Joey said finally. "You coming in?"

"Yeah," JC said softly, and Joey stepped back, letting him by.

~end~