Jack Reilly turned slowly about the center of his apartment, surveying the degree of acceptability of it.  Finally, he shrugged.  It’s the best he could hope for, really, in the time frame he had.  At least all of the clothing was stowed away and the dishes done.  He only hoped Wilma wouldn’t mind the so-called lived-in look of his place.  Jace never did but that was Jace.  She relished any chance to rib him about living the bachelor life.  Rubbing his chin, Jack shrugged again.  It would do.  Just as he reached that conclusion, the buzzer shrilled through the apartment.

Wilma yawned as she stretched her arms above her head. She hoped her hair wasn't messed up. It was a bit windy outside, and her brother had insisted upon driving with the windows down. If the brat hadn't decided to total his car and decide to use hers instead, she wouldn't have had this problem. As the door to the apartment creaked open slowly, she put her arms down quickly and straightened her shirt out. "Hey Jack, hope I'm not late...Andy told me at the last minute he needed my car..."

Jack smiled faintly, stepping back to let her enter his apartment. "No worries, Wilma. I was just kinda tidying up."

"Nifty-spifty." Wilma sauntered in slowly, glancing around quickly before turning around to face him. "Hey, um, we might need to rearrange the schedule a bit."

"If you need it," he offered.  Leading her towards the kitchenette with its table and chairs, he added, "Problems getting here or anything?"

Following him, she shook her head. "No, it's not that. I just told Jace I'd train with her on the days we usually study. It's easier for me to come up with an alibi that way, and we can just study on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. I'll tell mom I need more help with Spanish and other stuffs."

Jack stopped abruptly and looked over his shoulder at Wilma.  "Jace?" he asked.  "You’re getting on with her now?"  A quick, fleeting smile drifted over his mouth and then was gone.  "I’m glad to hear that.  You’ve no idea."

"Getting on with her is a bit of a stretch. I prefer to think of it as a lack of open hostility towards one another. We act more like Andy and I act than anything..." She shrugged, plunking down into a chair. "Why're you so glad to hear it?"

"I like my friends to get on with each other."  He hooked a chair with his foot and dragged it towards him, spinning it to sit backwards on it.  Then he propped an elbow on the back and rested his chin on it, studying her thoughtfully.

Not noticing his eyes on her, she sighed, taking out a dilapidated notebook. "Well, sorry Mr. Peacemaker, but Jace and I won't be braiding one another's hair or doing makeovers any time soon. But we did share a couple of secrets during our walk in the park."

Jack’s eyebrows immediately shot upwards as the word "secrets" registered.  "Uh, right," he muttered.  "Secrets."  Slowly, he rubbed his chin against his propped fist, a gesture that, in anyone else, would have screamed "nervous."  In Jack, it made you pause and think.  "Right."

Brown eyes, sharpened by Jace's constant grousing that she was too oblivious, caught this movement, and her lips turned up in a slight smirk. Clearing her throat, she nodded, "Yeah, Jace shared quite a bit of interesting information."

"Uh, she did?"  Jack’s green eyes grew half-lidded and his chin sunk completely onto the back of the chair.  "Um, yeah.  She’s interesting, alright."

Oh, jeez, this was too much fun. Biting down upon her tongue to keep from giggling, she nodded once more. "Oh, she's not only interesting, the things she does are so interesting...why, I was simply shocked by the things she had to say."

"Cursing again?"  Jack hitched his chair closer to the table, determinedly reaching for Wilma’s notebook.  "She’s got a mouth on her, yeah."

Wilma pulled the notebook to her, forcing Jack to look up. Peering into his eyes, she arched an eyebrow, having learned the evil eye from good ol' Jace. "Jack, you wouldn't happen to know any of Jace's secrets, now would you?"

Jack half-smiled, suddenly relaxed as he recognized the look Wilma was giving him.  So she’d been taking lessons from Jace, had she?  Apparently, his red-headed friend had never told Wilma that The Look failed on him every time.  "If I did," he replied gently, "I wouldn’t go around telling ‘em."

Wilma grinned, passing the notebook to him. "Good, and just for that, I won't razz you about kissing Jace."

For a moment there, Wilma would have sworn that Jack had forgotten how to breathe.  His usually sleepy eyes widened cartoonishly and his jaw dropped as he stared at her, frozen completely by her off-hand comment.  Finally, his body seemed to slide back into gear and he swallowed, eyes closing and forehead coming down to rest on the back of the chair.  "She didn’t," he murmured.

"She did, but it was only after I teased her for a few minutes." Wilma stared at him. That type of reaction out of Jack was a bit unnerving. Waving a hand in front of his face, she frowned. "You okay?"

"Yeah."  Jack reopened his eyes and lifted his head to smile faintly at her.  His usual neutral expression had somehow managed to slide back into place.  "I guess I just never figured on her saying anything about it."

"Well, she said you two were just friends afterwards." She gulped, thinking about her original reaction. Shaking her head, she pulled out her Spanish book, "You know Jace, anything for a shock."

Jack shrugged.  "I guess," he murmured.  He pulled her notebook towards him and cocked his head at it curiously as if pondering its cover of bored doodles.  After a moment longer, he added softly, "Did she… Did she say why?"

"Why what?" Without looking up from her book, Wilma shrugged, pulling a pen out from her ponytail. "Why'd she kiss you? Nope, she didn't say why."

"Uh, okay.  Just wondering."  Jack looked up from the notebook cover to study Wilma’s down-turned face for a moment and then he shrugged minutely and edged his chair over towards hers.

"The evil one assigned me pages 210, 211, 212, and 213 due by Tuesday." Wilma shook her head. "She gets so excited over a few pencils stuck in the ceiling..."

A faint chuckle actually escaped Jack’s pursed lips at that and he shook his head.  "That bored, huh?" he asked gently.

"It's hard -not- to get bored." Wilma grimaced as she thought of the minutes wasted in that awful classroom. "She's like that one guy off of the Visine commercials. All she does is drone on and on and on...the best part of the class is when Chris falls out of his chair because he's been asleep for the entire time."

"Glad to see that’s still a tradition."  Jack propped his chin on the back of his chair again.  "That used to be my job in math class."  He paused as if to think.  Then he smiled crookedly.  "Actually, that was my job through most of high school.  It’s a wonder I made it out."

Wilma smirked, picturing a younger Jack toppling out of a chair as some crackpot teacher scribbled math problems on the board. "Well...sometimes Chris forgets. That's usually because he's drooling on my shoulder. But, that's also when I get to jab him in the ribs, which makes him jump ten feet, then fall out of his chair."

"Better start taking a bib in then…  You let him drool on you?"  Jack blinked at her as her words really registered fully, past his automatic remark.

She shrugged, "I don't -let- him. I just let him sleep on my shoulder. The drool is an extra thing that comes along with it, just like him squishing me because he thinks I'm his pillow and I'm not soft enough."

"Push him off you."

"Why?" Wilma arched an eyebrow at him. "I don't mind him. It's kind of comforting to have him there, anyway. "

"Oh."  Jack tilted his head to look up at her.  "Sorry.  I just… Well, I thought you didn’t.  The way you said it, y’know."  He shrugged quickly.

Going back to her book, she shrugged as well. "S'no problem. Chris is a pretty goofy person, anyway. If he wasn't sleeping on my shoulder, he'd be poking me in the stomach, trying to find out what I was doing on a certain night, or if I understood a word the teacher was saying..."

Jack nodded.  "Sounds good to me."  He paused again and looked thoughtful.  "Wait a mo.  Did I meet him?  At that café with you and Rayya?"

"Yeah, the tall guy with black hair and brown eyes. Got kind of grouchy when he saw you."

"Yeah, I remember."  Jack shrugged.  "I kinda wondered about that but…  Y’know."

"Eh," She shook her head, peering down at the pages of her book with a dark glare. "Chris is... yeah, he's Chris. I don't know how to say it any other way."

Leaning into her line of vision, Jack smiled lop-sidedly.  "Say it in espanol?" he teased gently.

With a weak grin, she stuck her tongue out as she tried to come up with the words. "Um, Chris es... si, el es Chris?"

"Bueno."  Jack scooted his chair closer and frowned down at her book.  "Right, then.  What has the boring one given you this time, chica?" 

"210, 211, 212 and 213." Wilma stuck her tongue out once again, but this time in disgust. "Honestly, she's evil. She's trying to give me a stress attack from all of this homework."

"That’s what I hope to help avoid."  Lightly, Jack patted his friend’s shoulder.  His hand suddenly froze on her, though, and he frowned slightly.  "Man, Wilma.  What else have you been stressin’ over?  You’ve got knots."

"Oh, just the usual." She smirked as she began to tick off on her fingers. "My mom thinks I'm a druggie because I can't sleep at night, my brother calls me a worthless maggot, my dog is an idiot and bruises my legs up by running into them, I won't make the volleyball team next year, which, by the way, is one of the only things keeping me sane, the person that I'm supposed to be patrolling with keeps bitching me out, and I have this necklace that changes me into this magical being that other magical beings want to shoot at with attacks and kill me." She took a deep breath and sank back in her chair. "I think that covers it."

Jack chuckled softly.  "Damn, sorry about that all."  He paused and cocked his head to one side, studying her.  "But I’m sure it’ll all pass.  Sometime."  Carefully, he squeezed her shoulder.  "But I’d see about getting a rub-down or something," he added, concerned.  "That must hurt like hell."

She reached back and rubbed her shoulder thoughtfully before shaking her head, "I haven't the time, energy, or the resources." She winced slightly as she tried to work out a rather tough knot. "But, you're right. It hurts like hell."

He seemed to think for a moment, rubbing his chin.  After a moment, he smiled faintly.  "Okay, then.  Think ya could study while I gave you one?"

She peered at him, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. "I suppose so." Personally, she didn't know, as she'd never had a massage before and was rather amazed that the Wordless Wonder had offered.

"Right, then.  Let me know if it’s too hard."  Sliding his chair behind her, he reached up to place gentle hands on either side of her neck, letting them rest lightly on her shoulders for a second as if to allow her to grow accustomed to the sensation.  "Start on the first page?" he asked softly.  Then he began a slow, careful massage of her shoulders, at the same time tilting his head to the side to peer down at her book attentively.

Hey, that actually felt good. Blinking a few times, she managed to focus herself enough to peer down at her book. "Part A says to translate the paragraph into English, and part B says to write out the hispanic style of married names." She stuck her tongue out in concentration as she read the passage. "Erm, says... Julio wants to sacar buenas notas...get good grades...and so he has to estudiar, hacer la tarea, and trabajar mucho. So, he has to study, do his homework, and try very hard. And...he also has to escribir composciones en el cuaderno con el boligrafo. Write papers in his notebook with a pen."

"Great," he murmured as he continued rubbing her shoulders.  "Don’t forget to roll the R’s, though."

"Right." She stifled a small yawn as she scribbled down the rest of the passage, murmuring a word or two when she got stuck. "Hmm, okay, names. If the woman's name is Juanita Hernendez Garcia, which is her father's name? Um, it's... Hernendez," the sound of a pen scratching on paper followed, and then, "If she marries Louis Carmen Gomez, what will be her name? Oh, it'll be, um..." She paused momentarily, before a small sound of recognition. "Oh! It'd be Juanita Hernendez de Carmen. And if they have a kid names Juan, it'd be Juan Carmen Hernendez." She grinned slightly as she scrawled this down upon the paper.

"Man, Wilma, you know that stuff better than I do."  Jack half-smiled.  "I can’t remember any of the name rules anymore."  Suddenly, a thought-frown appeared between his dark eyebrows as he located a large knot beneath his sensitive fingers.  Tentatively, he began prodding at it in an effort to loosen it.

"I only remember it because—ah..." She winced slightly. "I only remember it because we got to make up our own names. Mine were Gidget and Flibbertigibbets. They got married and had Billy Jo Bob Juanita Margarita Fred…"

A laugh erupted behind her, almost startling her.  "Now that’s a heck of a name," Jack chuckled.  Then he frowned.  "You might wanna brace yourself.  This might hurt… Unless you want to skip it?"  His hand moved over the knot again lightly.

After a small jump, she shook her head. "No, that one's been bothering me for weeks, I just couldn't reach it." She bit down on her lip, flipping to the next page. "I'll just try and work on this page."

"Right, then."  Frowning and biting his lower lip at the thought of hurting her, Jack slowly increased the pressure on the trouble-spot.  Carefully, he moved sensitive artist-fingers in a widening circle over the knot.  He winced internally at the small, pained gasp that escaped Wilma at his ministrations.  After a minute, however, he felt the tensed muscle give way and he smiled faintly.  "Almost there, Wil," he murmured.  "How’s the page coming along?"

Gulping in air, she finally let go of the breath she'd been holding. Blinking a few times, she sighed. "Good. Almost finished. I just have to put in the right forms of ser. It's not too hard."

"Not the way you’ve been going."  Jack gave a final pass over her shoulders and then slid his chair to her side again with a half-smile.  "Don’t even know why you need me anymore, really."

Shaking her head, she smiled, "I need you for massages and alibis." Slowly, she rolled her shoulders, testing them out. "Aaah, thanks a lot." With a grin, she flipped the page in her book, "Besides, you have to admit, this is getting to be a little bit fun."

"Gotta point there.  It’s good to hang out with someone I like."

"Of course I have a point. I'm always right." She grinned, propping her head up on her elbow. "Besides, I have to find some way to get away from my family and currently, you're the only outlet."

"Well, then."  Jack nodded.  "As long as you need me, outlet I am."

"While you're an outlet, I'm going to demand massages, too." She smiled happily.

"Can do."  Jack relaxed back in his chair with a barely-there smile.

That didn't seem like a fair trade, though. Wilma looked down at her book for a few minutes, scratching an occasional answer or two on her paper and humming to herself. Finally, she looked up, snapping her fingers. "Oh! I can't believe I forgot to ask you. Mom wants to know if you'll come over for dinner every now and then. As a kind of a thank you thing for helping me."

"Really?" Jack sat up straighter and studied Wilma’s face. A sudden, brilliant smile broke over his face then and he laughed. "Great, that’s so nice of her. Man, between your mom and Jace’s mom, I might just eat right. Thanks, Wil."

"Hey, no problem." She smirked, shrugging. "Mom said that as long as I don't cook, things will be a-okay. Besides, if you said no, she'd probably come over here and break down your door." With a sheepish grin, she turned back to her books. "She's not the easiest person to say no to."

"But I bet she's still nice about it."  Jack smiled faintly.  "Some people pull that off."  He casually leaned forward, arms coming to rest on his knees.  "Hey, speaking of... Y'know, it's funny but I've never met your mom."  He scratched his chin thoughtfully.  "Is she still going
out with Rayya's dad?"

"Uh-huh! They're even going out for New Years." Her eyes got large as she feigned innocent amazement. "I mean, that's like, big." She grinned happily, pulling her legs into the chair and sitting indian style. "Sort of. Kind of... extremely so."

Jack chuckled gently.  "Bet Rayya’s been engineerin’ the whole thing, too," he replied lightly.

With a nod, she smiled, "Probably. Rayya is so much better at that type of thing than I am. She could probably get a person to eat hot coals without them realizing it."

"Yeah, she’s something else, alright," he agreed.  "And I have no idea how she does it."

She nodded silently, scribbling down the rest of the answers for her homework. With a relieved sigh, she slammed her book shut, "Well, Jack, I'm 'round about an hour late for heading home, and Mom wants you to come to dinner either tonight or tomorrow night so she can meet you."

Jack stood quickly and glanced at his watch.  "Geez, sorry about that," he murmured.  "I didn’t mean to keep you so late.  Sorry, Wil."  He pushed his chair back into place and then started helping her gather her books together.  After a moment of silence, he looked up at her.  "Hey, d’you have a ride?  I mean, it’s dark out there."  He raised an eyebrow slightly.  "I can walk you back if you want?"

"Hey, it's okay." She shrugged, "No biggie. Got me out of another hour with Wonder Dog and his amazing side kick, Idiot Boy." A walk back with Jack. That'd be fun. A small grin formed on her lips as she shook her head. "I don't have a ride, but I brought my rollerblades." After looking down at them, she folded her arms over her chest. "If you walk me back, you're going to be forced to sit and have a meal with my family. I warn you, it's perilous."

"You’ve never had dinner with mine," he replied cryptically.  "That’s Indiana Jones category."  He shrugged.  "I’m sure your family is nice."  He hesitated a second and then smiled crookedly.  "And there’s no way I’m letting you walk home alone, rollerblades or no.  Like I keep telling Jace, this isn’t a nice neighborhood.  Really."

"Okay, okay." She held her hands up as a sign of surrender. "I give up, you can walk me home. But," she smirked, poking him lightly in the chest, "That means that you're going to sit down, and eat with my family, which entails Andy making gross jokes, Mom grilling you with questions, me sitting with a red face and Dan ramming into your legs because he's blind. Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah, I can handle that," Jack replied easily, bringing his own hand up to tap his chest lightly.  Then he moved towards his bed to retrieve her coat.  "Leave now?"

"Yeah, I guess so." She held her hand out for her coat, smirking slightly. "Mom's gonna be kind of grouchy with me, but if I bring a guest home, she can't yell at me."

"Oh, so that’s the real reason, huh?"  Jack grinned softly as he fetched his own beat-up leather jacket.  "Might’ve figured."

As she pulled her coat on, she grinned, shaking her head, "No, it's just a fringe benefit. I just thought you might be good company. I'm gonna go ahead and go downstairs." She stuck her hands in her pockets, walking towards the door. "I'll meet you down there, okay?"

"Hold up a sec."  Shrugging into his own coat, Jack patted his back pocket, checking for his wallet.  "Ready.  Just let me lock up behind us, right?"

"Right." After a quick self check, she nodded. Yep, she had everything. "Okay, yep, I'm good to go." She grinned sheepishly after hoisting her backpack on her back. "Never know with all of this stuff."

"Might explain your shoulders," he commented lightly, crossing to her and neatly relieving her of her backpack.  "I’ve got it."  Then he nodded to the door as he shouldered the burden.  "You lead."

She stared at him innocently. "Are you blaming my bad shoulders on my daily weight lifting?" With a shrug and a grin, she sauntered out the door. "I'll lead. I might lead us into a wall or two, but I'll lead."

Jack nodded and followed obediently. Wow. Home-cooking from yet another teammate’s mom, he thought. Did he really look that underfed? That must be the answer, he grinned to himself. They couldn’t be in it for the conversation. So, looking forward to the prospect of a good meal and better company, he locked the door behind him and disappeared down the dark stairwell behind his friend.