2 weeks later...

There it was again, that odd ringing sound. Ken had no idea what it was. It couldn't be his alarm clock as that was turned off. Nor that of his parents and/or siblings, the group of them were out for the weekend. Ahh, that was right. That would explain why he had turned his clock off. So what does that leave?

Ah... The phone. Cursed thing of doom. He thought as he slowly started to wake up.

He reached out from where he was stretched out on his bed and fumbled about on his nightstand. His intention and goal was to find his phone but all he really did was flail his arm about and knock a few CD cases and other random junk off the stand. But he did find his clock and upon looking at it thru squinting eyes wondered who the hell would be calling him at 2:30 in the morning. On a Saturday no less.

And the phone was still ringing.

It took him six more rings and him walking into several rooms, walls and door frames to find the only working phone in the kitchen and answer it.

"...lo?" Was the mumbled greeting. They were lucky to get that.

"Ken? What took you so long to answer? I've been calling since one." Was the far too awake and alert response. All Ken could really do at that point was wonder who could be like that this early and why would they have his number.

"Uhmm, who is this?" Slowly Ken was starting to show some intelligence. He cradled the phone with his shoulder as he started digging around the kitchen for something to eat. Briefly blinking at his frightening reflecting in the oven. He didn't know his hair could do that.

" right now." Ken blinks.

"What?" He said incredulously.

"You didn't hear a thing I just said did you? I would think I called Clint by mistake if he wasn't standing right here. Let's try this again. This is John. From school. First period. Are you with me so far?" John said with slow even words. He only paused for a brief second before continuing. "Good. Now listen, my brothers and myself want to throw a party for our friend Lena. She accepted a position with our father as his lab assistant. Unfortunately we were unaware of Coop leaving for football camp yesterday."

"Ok, but I'm still in the dark as to why you called me."

John only hesitated for a second. "Coop was going to prepare the food. All of it and since he's not here and you happened to mention once that you can cook..." He just trailed off right there and Ken rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I can't believe... You... But it's..." Ken sighs as he tries again. "You don't even know me that well and you're asking me to help you out with some party and almost three am? Are you nuts or just desperate?"

This time there was a long pause. John seemed to be carefully considering his next words. Apparently fully aware that if he didn't Ken would hang up right then and there. Fortunately for him, Ken had nothing better to do that weekend. He grabbed a pen and pad of paper.

"Look, if your serious just give me directions on where you'd like to meet. We can talk about the rest there." Ken really didn't want to do this, but John hadn't dicked him out yet. Even though it had only been two or three weeks since they started talking and only briefly at that. But he didn't have much to loose so he scribbled down the address.

"Are you sure you have a way to get there? I've never seen you drive." A hesitant question.

"I have a bike, so it will only take me about 15-20 minuets to get there."

"Bike? Won't that take longer?"

"Not really, only if I hit traffic. See you then." Ken says in a fake merry voice and hangs up before John could question him farther.

He takes a quick shower and then he's on the road. His motorcycle purring happily under him. Even though the bike had so much rust on it it was almost un-recognizable, he loved the thing. While he could drive a car if he wanted to, he hadn't been able to afford one. He had the bike soly because a family friend had unloaded it on him, much to his delight.

Another fortunate thing was that the Boltan's seemed to be just as lamely dressed as he was. If they hadn't had different hair cuts he would have thought they were triplets. They did, how ever, look disbelievingly at his bike as he pulled up next to them.

John eyed the bike cautiously.

"So, this is what you meant by bike. No wonder you don't take it to school, they'd throw it out. I'm amazed it even runs." Ken smirks at him before he takes off his helmet and shakes out his hair. John shakes his head at him. "I'm not even going to ask. Alright, this is my younger brother Clint sitting on the hood of his truck. That's Bobby, the one the tailgate. My second brother and the next youngest. Then the guy leaning next to Clint is Jet, another unfortunate friend to be woken up at this ungodly hour."

"The pleasure is all yours as I'm sure your aware-ow! Knock it off Clint!"

"Make me" Clint starts as they get into a small tussle. The remaining three just look idly on.

"Ya know, I'm suddenly very happy I only have a little sister." He says almost in a whisper, some how feeling that this tid bit of info should stay quiet. If only for the time being.

He also wasn't going to mention the fact that she thuraly trounced his ass for most of his life. That is, until he found he could just pick her up and throw her into a pool, she sorta stopped after ten or so many times.

So, after loading his bike into the trunk of the truck, they heading into the food store. John had handed him a list of things they wanted to make and Ken was wondering why the hell he had agreed to this. He also had the sinking feeling that he had forgotten something that morning but he just couldn't put his finger on it.

But he did find out that John had no idea what foods to have at a party. The list had been all sorts of crappy junk foods. Most of it probably wouldn't be all that appetizing after a while. So the first thing Ken did was re-do the list of what was going to be served. He also swung by the book section and grabbed a new cook book. Using bits of the list to mark some of the items.

It took them about two hours to find and pay for everything, including the book. Which would later prove it's self invaluable as the Boltan's really didn't seem to know how to cook. But they didn't seem to mind taking orders too badly, understanding them however was another thing entirely.

"Chop is like cut right? But only not?" Bobby briefly asked be fore he was goaded into a wooden spoon dual with Clint.

Ken just looked up at them briefly from his seat at the table before crossing his arms over the book and laying his face in them. He could hear Jets snickering at him as he tried not to bang his head on the table while muttering the word why over and over.

"Bobby? Have you ever used a knife for anything other then eating?" He mumbles from his seat, face still in his arms.

"Does a razor count?" was Bobbies innocent response. Ken was about to give him a response of his own but was cut off by Clint scaring the hell out him. He had snuck up from behind and had jabbed Ken's sides while yelling boo.

Ken jerked upwards in the chair before he gracelessly fell out of it in an awkward sprawl on the floor. The guys were laughing up roarusly but Ken wasn't thrilled at all. He was still on the floor, but curled up on his hands and knees. Clutching his chest and willing not only his heart rate but his breathing to calm down before anyone noticed.

"Dude, I didn't kill you did I?" he hears Clint say as he feels himself being helped up. Ken coffs a little before he answers.

"Heh, no but I would really apreatiate it if you guys didn't do that kind of thing to me."

"Bah, what's the worst that could happen?" Clint replied off handedly.

"You… could kill me. Or at least give me a heart attack."

"No way." Bobby says in disbelief.

Ken arches an eyebrow at them before he lifts his left wrist high enugh for them to see the medical bracelet on it. The guys fall into an uncomfortable silence as they exchange glances with one another.

"Oh for… I'm not going to drop dead at your feet! I take medication for it, so please don't worry about it. I'm not made out of glass." Kens voice was a bit exasperated. Everyone reacted that way and he hated it. People would always watch out for poor little Ken who had a bad heart. So his heart was smaller then normal and happened to have scar tissue on it from a few sugeries. That didn't mean that he was going to die.

Well… not that moment at any rate. Besides, providing he took time to warm up he could still play some sports. 'Some' being the figurative word which in his mind was none. He could bearly keep up in his martial arts classes and anything with the word 'extrem' in it he was banded from.

Which would have been fin if he hadn't been a thrill seaking braindead bastard.

But that wasn't his problem now, because John was giving him one of thoughs looks that Ken noticed he seemed to reserve for his brothers. Ken levered one of his own on him.


"Hmm?" he sounded like he had been off in another part of the world.

"Your giving me a look."

"No I'm not." The answer was far too quick for it to be true. Ken didn't waver but neather did John. After lord knows how long Ken finally rolls his eyes and walks off with a wave of his hand.

"Right, what ever you say. Bobby… I thought I asked you to boil some water?"

"I did."

"Then why is there smoke coming from it?"

"wha- Holy shit!" now… that was a first for Ken.

While the guys were running around looking for something to put it out with. Ken just picked up a plate and covered it as he turned off the heat. He then looked at them all and determined that anything else involving the stove would be left to either him or John.

Eventually they got all the food ready. They even had enough time to not only clean up, but to decorate as well. The time was around four pm and Ken felt beat. He was attempting to pretend that the book was a pillow and that he was at home.


It didn't work.

He sat up groggily. "yes?"

"Are you ok?" John asks as he pulls up a chair next to him. Ken treats him to a rather interesting look of exasperation.

"You called me at three am. You brother almost burned the house down boiling water and I am running on less then four hours of sleep. Yet you're wondering if I'm ok?" Ken blinks. "Are you crazy? I don't even know how your surviving this."

"Sorry but unlike you, I actually sleep." Ken blows a raspberry at him. "If your that tired you can crash here. There's no guest room but you can get some rest in mine."

As John stands up can only stifle a yawn as he's prodded to follow and like the cattle he is he followed. On entering John's room he could tell that he didn't get out much.

The room was spotless.

Well, no there was a signal sock on the floor but that hardly counted. There wasn't anything out of place. it was like a museum. There was a desk with scientific things on it. A book shelf with books. He even had a computer. As ken relaxed on the bed he found only one problem with it.

"Your bed is like a rock." he watched as John did that little head rub thing that Goku does in DBZ. "How old is your mattress?

"I think it was my dads when he was a kid. It's not that bad."

Ken merely snorted. he was thanked by a pillow smacking into his face. He pulls a blanket over himself after putting the pillow in it's proper place, under his head.

"Get some sleep. We'll drive you home after the part. That ok?"

Ken sighs. "Yes mommy. Wait, don't I get a night kiss?"

He laughs as John nails him with another pillow.


When he tried to open his eyes, the only thing that happened was he seemed to make a small uhg sound. Every thing was fuzzy, he thought he could hear a voice but it could have been more for all he knew. He just wanted to turn over and go back to sleep.

"It's ok, just hang on." Was all he heard before he felt himself being picked up. By who, he had no clue, but it was only a moment or so before everything went black again.

Slowly he felt like he was waking up, even tho to him it fell like a forever. Eventually he could open his eyes and stair at the ceiling. He gave it an odd look before he turned his head to look about the odd room.


Ken turned to the sound of the voice and squinted until he could make out Johns form leaning agenst the wall.

"Not made of glass are you?" and although Ken couldn't see the look on Johns face he knew it would resemble one that said 'I told you so'. So, in order to avoid further comment he pulled the pillow out from behind his head and used it to cover his face. Mildly hoping it would smother him.

He felt a small tug on the pillow.

"If your not going to smother me then no touchy the pillow." He mumbled still feeling mortified.

"Come on, I was only kidding."

Ken lifts up the pillow to glare at John from under it. John just gives him the saddest puppy dog eyes and minor lip quiver he had ever seen.

"You're not fighting fair."

"Huh?" and he didn't even know he had such power. So ken just sighed and attempted to put the pillow in a more comfortable position.

"Fine but can you please tell me where I am and how I got here?"

"There's not much to it. You weren't waking up. By the time you actually started to, we had already gotten a hold of a doctor and were getting ready to come to the hospital."

Ken visibly cringed. He hated hospitals, been in far too many for his liking.

"They seemed a little worried when they ran the number on your bracelet but then they asked if you had taken you medication lately…"

"..Shit." John nods.

"That's what I thought. I told them that we'd been around you since three am, which they didn't approve of, and that we didn't see you take anything. They assumed that was the problem. You have a history of forgetting?"

"…yes." John relaxes.

"Well… that's good." Johns reclines in the chair, seemingly more relaxed now that Ken admitted to being a moron. "Mind telling me what is wrong with your heart?"

Ken sighed and started his tale.

There wasn't much too it. Kens heart was smaller then normal. Which in it's self would have been fine if he hadn't kept having odd palpitations as an infant. The doctors had tried numerous surgeries only to find that the scar tissue they left behind was causing more trouble then his original condition.

Add to the fact that when they finally decided to attempt more surgeries they found that his hear worked harder. His body had gotten used to working harder to compensate for a smaller heart. Which was now far to weak to be worked so hard.

They also changed his medications so much when he was younger that it had caused endless amounts of trouble. He had been his old doctors' favorite guinie pig up until the age of fifteen, when Ken had formally sued the hell out of him with out his parents knowledge. They had been furious, but when the doctor had punched him just after finding out about the suit they had changed their minds.

He hated doctors.

"And you call that nothing to worry about?"

Almost as much as he hated mother hens.