Disclaimer...I obviously don't own anything by my own lovely character Jacey Owens....wouldn't it be wonderful if I could???

So...I normally wouldn't write a fan fic like this....but I couldn't resist after reading a few other lovely Criss Angel stories, and after standing a foot away from the master illusionist himself at his bar Liquidity last month.

So here it is...and every should check out the CA stories of my fellow fanfiction writer and CA Loyal deppdependant. Here's the first .net/s/4851343/1/Lucky_13 Lucky 13. It's fantastic!!!

So here it goes peoples...Are you ready??? LOL...couldn't resist...

Chapter 1

Do I Know You?

Jacey sighed, pulling her coat closer around her, closing her eyes, not getting to her pillow soon enough. The day wasn't particularly easy. But her job never was. And neither was her life. Though, you ask for it being passionate about a job that saw death everyday. And on the days when a teenager who just got accepted to Yale and just found out that life is never fair...those are the ones that especially eat away at you.

The last few years had been the toughest yet. Since getting back from the desert last time, she hadn't been able to find that comfort zone again. Even her partner had a hard time getting her to open up. She was afraid the Captain was gonna shove her out the door and force her to take some time off. That was the last thing she needed. Helping the people she could was the only thing holding her together. That, and every moment she can pull herself in front of her easel to paint.

Those were the moments of her day the world made sense. That there wasn't one thought or one memory flooding into her mind. Only the brush in her hand.

Her feet carried her closer to steps up to her building when a distressed moan distracted her. Jacey's eyes found a man sitting on the curb, his shoulders slumped. Despite her exhaustion, her eyes narrowed, and training stepped in.

"Hey..." she walked over. "Are you okay?" He didn't answer, simply kept his head in his hands while another moan passed through his lips. "Sir?" Jacey set a hand on his shoulder and he fell over, startled. "Whoa, there. It's okay," she held her hands up. "I'm a paramedic. Are you feeling okay?"

He sighed. "I can't see straight."

She tried not to smile. "Okay, let's sit you up." She took hold of one of his hands, hauling him back up to a sitting position. He set a hand back on the pavement to steady himself. He was obviously not capable of walking straight, and was sure the the nightclub around the corner had something to do with it. Jacey knelt in front of him taking his wrist between her fingers and looking at her watch.

Jacey frowned. His heart rate was a little erratic. She took off his hat, which he barely even registered and took out the penlight of her purse that she never failed to carry. "I'm gonna shine a light in your eyes okay." He waved his hand nonchalantly. Jacey combed back the hair in front of his eyes with her fingers and checked his pupils. They were slightly dilated. She frowned again and studied his face for a moment, suddenly realizing what face she was looking into.

"Holy shit..." she whispered. Great...she thought. "Did you take anything tonight?"

"What?" his eyes fluttered toward her.

"Drugs. Did you take anything at the club? Ecstasy, heroine, meth...anything?"

"What?" he closed his eyes.

Jacey clenched her teeth. She gently took his head in her hands and forced her to look at him. "Open your eyes. Look at me." She waited for him to do so. "Did you take any pills or use a needle to inject yourself tonight?"

"Drugs?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely not," he slurred. "That's bad for you."

Jacey sighed, releasing his head and found a little blood on her fingertips. "You're bleeding." She stood and directed the penlight to the side of his head where she found a little gash. "Did you know you were bleeding?"

His face changed, suddenly remembering something. "Yeah, I fell over there. I couldn't walk very well."

"That's obvious," Jacey muttered. She stood, setting her hands on her hips. What the hell was she supposed to do now. He was obviously on something, and probably had a concussion. She should take him to the hospital. But big red warning lights went off in her head. That wouldn't look good for him. After all, the drugs could have been on accident. It wouldn't be the first time she heard of or seen people drugging a celebrity at a place as chaotic as a nightclub on a Saturday night. And this was Manhattan for God's sakes. And as a inner-city paramedic...she'd seen almost everything. You can leave the rest of the almosts with her time in Iraq.

Jacey looked down at him and made up her mind. She cursed at herself. "I'm gonna kick my own ass, if I regret this," she whispered to herself. She shouldered her purse then took her arm in his. "Alright mister, come on. Stand up." She put his arm around her neck and her own arm around his waist.

"I can't walk."

"I'm gonna help you, but you need to stand up. On three, okay." He nodded. "One, two...three." And she heaved him to his feet, with little help from him. Luckily, dragging around 200 pound soldiers was a hobby of hers.

The five steps up to the front door were quite a feat, but did not take nearly quite as long as getting up to the second floor to her apartment. Jacey heaved him up to the landing and pushed him against the wall so she could take a break. Her breathing was heavy and labored. She felt him leaned forward on her with all his weight so he could bend down to whisper to her. "Where are we going?"

"My apartment."

"Why?"

"It's either that or the hospital."

He instantly stiffened. "No, no. Don't like hospitals."

"Could have guessed that." Jacey took one more deep breath and took hold of him again. "Alright big man...a few more steps, and we're done." He groaned. "I know, but we're almost there."

By some miracle, Jacey didn't drop him until she let him tumble unto the sheets of her bed. "Uh...." he gave a delightful groan. "I'm gonna sleep now..." He wrapped his arms around one of her pillows.

"Nope...not so fast...you can't sleep yet," Jacey pulled the pillow from his grasp.

"Why not?"

"Because you could have a concussion. And I need to patch up that cut on your head."

"I'm fine," he whined.

"You may feel fine....but you're gonna have one hell of a headache tomorrow," Jacey said while pulling out her first aid kit from the bathroom.

Jacey unzipped the bag and started pulling out the items she would need. He rolled onto his stomach, his sluggish eyes staring at her movements. A smile came to his lips. "You're kinda pretty, you know."

Jacey snorted. "Kinda pretty? Gee, thanks..."

"Really pretty," he corrected. His slur was almost gone. He was definitely starting to sober up.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely..." He had a bit of a problem still forming the s on his lips.

Jacey couldn't help but smile, trying to debate whether she would tell him this in the morning when he wouldn't remember a thing. "Okay..." she chuckled. "Thank you. Can you sit up?"

"Maybe..."

"Are you hungry? Food is gonna help sober you up." He nodded. Jacey disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, putting a box right next to his head. "Here...you can scarf down the rest of them if you want. Let's sit you up." Jacey took both of his hands, pulling him up to a sitting position. He swayed for a moment, finding his balance.

"Donuts? These are bad for you, you know."

"They are not bad for you now. The sugar will help. And this might sting a bit." She gently set a folded gauze pad on top of the bleeding gash on his head. She was surprised when he didn't even flinch. Though she was sure he had been through worse pain, in this state, she was impressed he still failed to show a reaction. "How you doin'?"

He shoved another donut in his mouth. "...fine..." he mumbled.

"Apparently not as against donuts as you thought..." she smirked, dabbing the now clean wound with peroxide.

"Uh..." he partly ignored her.

"Nothing."

Jacey continued in silence, letting him eat as much as possible. "You're lucky you don't need stitches. It would have definitely been the hospital for you."

"No hospitals..." he murmured.

"Yeah...you already told me that," she wrapped a single roll of gauze around his forehead, securing it with tape. She stood searching for something in her dresser, smiled in satisfaction and stood over him. Jacey carefully slipped the beanie over his head. "There. Sleep with that and hopefully the bleeding will stop tonight. And take these," she placed two pain pills in his hand and a bottle of water in the other. "You're gonna probably have a raging headache tomorrow." She watched with a raised brow as he gulped down the entire bottle in a few seconds. "Thirsty much?" She smiled.

He only nodded. He swayed setting down the empty bottle roughly. It fell onto the carpet. "Whoa!" Jacey caught before he fell back along with it. "Easy, buster. Don't want to go kill yourself after I did you up all nice. Lay back." She eased him down into the pillows. "There you go."

He was asleep in seconds. Jacey laughed. "How the hell did I get into this?" she asked herself closing the bathroom door behind her.

After a shower, he still hadn't moved an inch. She checked his pulse again, and used her home blood pressure cuff to make he really didn't need the hospital. His vitals were returning to normal. She was stuck with him for one night at least. Jacey grabbed the second pillow off her bed and headed for the couch.

It was passed noon when she woke, with a good crick in her neck thanks to her beloved couch. Jacey stood quietly, and poked her head in the bedroom. He was lying on his stomach now, looking as passed out as ever. The beanie had inched slightly off his head, but thankfully, the bandage around his head was still in place.

This was normally the time she would go for a run. But with him still here,and still asleep, she wouldn't dare leave. Not that she thought anything would happen...who was she kidding...with him, anything could happen.

So, with nothing else better to do, she started breakfast. The smell must have woke him up...typical for a guy right...because when she turned from the stove, he stood in her bedroom doorway a grimace set firmly in his face. "Where am I? And who the hell are you?" he eyed her.

She smiled at his bluntness. Oh, he was definitely sober now. "You don't remember anything?"

"I remember the club and then waking up here." His eyes turned over her apartment.

"I found you on the curb last night, drunk, high and bleeding from the head."

"What? High?!" he said incredulous, his eyes finding her again.

"Yes. You're pupils were dilated. You were definitely high on something, which explains why you don't remember anything."

Jacey grabbed her penlight and approached him, reaching for his face. He backed away. "What are you doing?"

"It's okay. I'm a paramedic. I'm just gonna check your pupils." He hesitated for a moment, then conceded to her hands. "Well...they are back to normal now. Did you happen to see anyone slip you something in a drink?"

"Why would someone do that?"

"Why should I know? You were there, not me." She tossed the penlight back in her drawer, slamming it shut.

He threw his hands up in the air. "This is ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous?! You're lucky I didn't dump you in a hospital. They would have a hell of a lot more questions than I do. And I can't imagine that would be very good for you." He narrowed his eyes at her. Jacey scoffed at him. "Oh, please. Just because I'm a paramedic doesn't mean I don't have a life. Anyone who watches enough TV would know your name."

"So that's why I'm here!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jacey crossed her arms.

"I bet you were there last night! You're the one that slipped something into my drink!"

Jacey glared at him. "Listen, buster...I'm the only reason you're not plastered on some headlines somewhere. I don't know what the hell happened last night, and I don't want to know. But I do know that I had nothing to do with it. And the only reason you're here was a decision against my better judgment. So do me a favor, sit your ass down before you fall down because you may still have a concussion. And I don't want to clean up any of your blood off of my floor."

He did after a moment. "Good. I made us breakfast." She walked into the kitchen. "My name is Jacey by the way...in case you were wondering," she grunted.

"Criss," he said eventually.

She emerged from the kitchen with two plates. "I know. I hope you like eggs."

"They're fine." Criss dug into them immediately. "Thank you."

"Your welcome." And she passed him a glass of orange juice.

They were silent as they ate, periodically glancing at each other across the table, pausing when one caught the other's eyes. "So..." he eventually broke the silence. "Jacey, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your name. Jacey. Did you know it was Greek?"

She stared at him, quizzically. Criss stared right back. Something about her was intimidating. Like the way she stood up to him a few moments before. There was something really tough about this girl. She obviously isn't scared of bigger or taller men. She had to be a foot shorter than him. There was a edge about her. He wanted to smile. She reminded him of his mother.

"No. I didn't know it was Greek?"

"Your accent?"

"Irish."

"Hmm..." he took another bite of his toast. "It means healer."

"What?"

"Your name. It's means healer." Jacey nodded, unsure of how to respond. "So what's the plan?"

"Plan?" she took both of their empty plates and placed them in the sink.

"Yeah, plan. Am I a prisoner or something?" he asked sarcastically.

Jacey rolled her eyes. "No. You have a slight concussion. You definitely need to take it easy today. Which means no walking around, no driving around and no walking between buildings."

Criss perked up at her last comment, wishing he could see her face, but her back was turned, busy with the dishes. "So I have to stay here?"

Jacey turned off the water and studied him for a moment before responding. "You are welcome to stay here. Or I can take you to your hotel or whatever. But if I am we need to go soon. My shift starts in a few hours."

Criss thought it over in his head. Three options. Home in Long Island. Hotel. Here. Well...four options. J.D.'s. He immediately crossed off the first and the last options. There was no way he was staying with family while having a concussion. They would baby him to no end. It was down to only two. Here. Hotel.

He looked her in the eye. "I'll stay here...if it's okay with you?"

"I'm fine with that..." she turned away from him, "...for some reason," she muttered.

Criss smiled at her back. Well, if he couldn't go out and do much, at least this would amuse him.

Jacey came out of her bedroom, her backpack over her shoulder. Criss was sitting on the couch, the TV blaring some war movie. She rolled her eyes. "Can I take you anywhere?"

"Nah, I'm good," he replied without even looking at her. "I'm gonna call my brother in a bit. He'll get my stuff from the hotel."

Jacey nodded. "Okay. The number to the firehouse is beside the phone if something is wrong."

"Yup, thanks."

"I'll be back sometime before 3 am. So don't wait up, honey," she gave a sarcastic grin.

He didn't reply. Just waved his hand at her. She smiled and closed the door behind her. The boys were never gonna believe this one.

Criss held his phone next to his ear, ready for the storm. It only took two rings for him to answer. "Criss! What the hell man?!"

"Hey J.D."

"What the hell happened last night?"

"I ran into a friend at the club. I'm over at their place," he stuffed some chips into his mouth.

"And what friend is this?"

"You don't know them." Criss stood and made his way into Jacey's bedroom.

"Would you like to enlighten me."

"Not really. I do have a favor though..." He took a closer look at the pictures on top of her dresser.

"Oh, really...my little brother that I have been worried about since last night because he decided to disappear and call me 12 hours later would like a favor..." Criss smiled. "And what favor would that be?"

A certain picture caught his eye. Jacey in a pair of black sunglasses and desert fatigues sat on top of a tank with a fellow soldier in each side. All three smiled into the camera. His smile disappeared as he studied them. "Hello? Criss...you still there?"

"Umm, yeah...sorry. I was wondering if you could get my stuff from the hotel and bring it over. I kind of had a bit of an accident last night and shouldn't walk around much apparently." His eyes passed over a few pictures of her as a child and he continued to study the ones on the wall.

"You what?"

"I was a bit shitfaced last night and fell on the way over her. I guess I might have a concussion so I should stay off my feet," he repeated Jacey's orders.

He heard J.D. sigh. "You've got some explaining to do."

"I'm sure I do...thanks," and he hung up.

Criss stopped and studied another picture. She leaned against a fire engine, an FDNY patch over her heart, surround by a dozen other men in various states of uniform. There was a huge white 57 on the side of the truck. He smiled.