Thanks: Of course, thanks goes to my wonderful aging beta and wife, Paulie, who has been a steady pole in my scaffolding. Love you!

Notes: I'm so sorry for the lateness of this chapter (and the predicted lateness of the next) but thank you so much, all of you, for reading, and without further ado and many UST, enjoy!

Chapter 5 - Pride and Prejudice

"Seriously," Sirius protested loudly as he was dragged out of the hospital by Remus, after being warned that if he didn't come quick enough, they'd tie him to a wheelchair and see how fast he could go down the stairs. "We need some sort of plan. I mean, I'm all for just "hitting the road," but we don't have money, we don't have-"

"Au contraire, my dear Watson," James pointed out, rearranged Lily's messenger bag so he could search through it, "We have a very well thought out plan that required years of research, NASA computers and my bank account."

"In other words," Remus said helpfully, "James's loaded, Lily has "connections", Peter's got his fits under control, and you and I just have to tag along for the ride."

"Seriously?"

"Look, Black," Lily drawled, slapping James' hands away with one hand and pushing back her hair with her cast, "We are going to have a good time. If we have to go back, we go back. If not..." She shrugged. "We'll see."

"I don't get how you can all just do this!" Sirius exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. "I mean, family, friends, homes, everything... Are we seriously just leaving it all behind for a little outing with the other mad patients on Minnie's ward for the incurably insane?"

"That's quite catchy, actually," Remus commented, whipping out 1984. "Minnie's ward - no, no, not ward." He scribbled out one of the words, his tongue slightly sticking out as he concentrated.

Sirius gulped.

"What about band?" Peter asked, nervously wringing his hands as they entered the hospital car park. "You know, a band of merry men and all that..."

"Perfect!" He slapped Peter on the back, dabbed his biro on his tongue, and started writing again, the words twisting round the border of the page. "Minnie's band of the incurably insane..."

"You're only supposed to do that with quills, you know," Sirius commented, but he was suitably ignored. "But, you know, go ahead... get ink poisoning. See if I care." He crossed his arms over his chest, then let them hang by his sides when he realised he sounded like a petulant child that had been denied a lolly.

"Ink poisoning, schmink poisoning," Remus mumbled round the nib of his pen.

"Look, we can't just wander about... We don't have any of our stuff, any transport..."

"Dear God, Doc," James said, rolling his eyes, "This is London. Black cabs, the Underground, double-deckers... It's endless. Plus, there's only five feet between every bar, so we won't exactly be travelling far, will we?" They all stared at him. "Oh, come on."

"Where do you live, Sirius?" Peter asked.

Nobody dared to speak.

An ambulance sped past, jolting the five of them. Nervously, Sirius looked back at the hospital - white and looming and silent.

"A few minutes away," he replied cautiously, and he slung his bag over his shoulder. "I mean, we can stay there for the night... It's not big - F2 London salary and all that - but it'll do."

"Perfect!" Lily rubbed her hands together, grasping James' wheelchair handles again and pushing him viciously over a speed bump. He yelped, causing her to laugh and pat his head like a child. "That sounds like a plan. What do you say, Remus?"

"I'm up for it," Remus murmured, making another note in his book. "Hmm... I wrote F2 phonetically and I don't really know why."

"Really? Phonetically?" Lily asked, marching ahead and giving James no mercy. "So... what? Eff-Too?"

"Fuck," he said, looking down at 1984. "I spelt it wrong." They all stopped and stared at him. He shrugged, and closed the book. "I suppose it makes it more interesting?"

"Interesting," Peter muttered, shaking his head, just as they reached the gates of the hospital car park. They reached the end of the road. "Right, where are we going?" He turned to Sirius, who sighed, and pointed left. Lily led the way, while Sirius and Remus trailed behind.

"Have you ever heard of shampoo?" They heard Lily ask from the front. Sirius sighed again.

"Why are we doing this? Are you aware of how utterly insane we are?" he wondered aloud, thinking that, an hour ago, he had been treating James in a hospital bed and getting ready to give Peter his painkillers.

Now, he was tempted to take Peter's painkillers for himself.

Which, to be honest, had started this whole mess.

"Pretty much," Remus replied, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. "The trees were all giants, tall, empty and mild; inside they were weeping and inside they were wild. Nah, I don't like that." He scratched a line through the text.

"That poor book," Sirius commented, looking at the tattered pages. "Somewhere, Shakespeare's rolling in his grave."

"He's not rolling, obviously. He's dramatically turning his back on the world, clutching his long lost play to his chest. God, what I wouldn't give to break open Shakespeare's grave."

"And steal his corpse?"

"It'd go with the rest of my collection."

They both stared at each other, and burst into laughter; the world was insane, and if you couldn't beat them... you might as well join them in the mental asylum.

"Oh come on, you lovers!" Lily called back in a West Country accent; Sirius and Remus stared at her in shock and awe; and slight fear as well. James high fived Peter, who wiped his hands on his trousers afterwards, making James sigh audibly.

"Say that again, Evans?" Remus shouted to the front, where Lily threw her head back and laughed into the wind.

The musician in Sirius - the artist, the composer, the one who wanted to carry round a violin and piano in his back pocket - wanted to play a tune there. A light-hearted piece that spoke of autumn and London and being Lily Evans.

His fingers twitched, and Remus smiled.

"The artist's itch, right?"

"What?" Sirius asked, still moving his fingers as though they floated over notes and keys, bows and strings.

"The artist's itch. You want to draw, write, playwhatever you see or feel. We all get it, like a little brainwave that says create create create. The little itch in the back of your mind that wants, more than anything. It wants that canvas, that notebook, that music score; the paintbrush, the pen, the pencil.

"The artist wants; it's what we do."

"That was very poetic," Sirius commented, a little bewildered. It wasn't just him; it wasn't just him.

"Exactly," Remus replied with a wink, catching up with Lily and starting an irrelevant conversation about socks. Peter hung back, taking over James wheelchair. They reached the end of Oxford Street and Sirius instructed them to turn left.

"Come along now, slow coach!" James called, laughing and wheeling his chair hastily over a raised piece of pavement. He jumped, defying gravity for one heart-stopping moment, then cleanly came back down.

"Jesus Christ, James, you're an accident waiting to happen," Lily snorted.

"Lily," Sirius warned. She fell silent.

"S'alright, Doc," James said cheerily, running a hand through his hair, making it spike up at the back. Hastily he patted it back down again. "I've kind of got used to it now. Plan a hospital break out with somebody and you start to have a special connection."

"I'm feeling it," Peter chimed in, ruffling Lily's hair and making her squirm. "We've got a bond."

"James Bond?" Remus asked, looking up from 1984.

"I wish," James sighed. "I mean, Sean Connery..."

"You have a guy crush on Sean Connery," Lily said dully, staring at James with hope in her eyes. He smiled back. She was forgiven.

"Well, who hasn't? The name's Bond. James Bond. I would kill to have someone whisper sweet nothings to me in a Sean Connery accent. Literally. Sirius? Peter? My childhood best friend? You? Gone. In an instant. Just let me have that."

"You have a strange sense of humour, James," Sirius said, slightly scared by the manic gleam in his eyes. "Slightly... macabre."

"That wasn't humour, Doc," he waved him off, leaning back in his wheelchair. "That was the truth."

He shook his head, then looked up. He crossed the street, powering his way past Lily, who was still muttering "Sean Connery..." under her breath, Peter - who was looking at James as though he was waiting for him to pull a knife out from under all that hair - and turned the street corner.

In front of him stood a block of Victorian flats, like the ones you see in papers; smaller versions of Downing Street. With more loft space and less politics.

"Welcome to my humble abode."

Sirius spread out his arms, and bowed deeply. Remus applauded as he made his way to the door.

"Fancy," Lily smirked, fingering the doorknob expertly. From her hair she pulled a hair clip and -

"I have the keys, Lily."

"Well, fine. Ruin my fun," she grumbled, stepping back and letting Sirius push his keys carefully into the lock, waiting for the soft click and sighing when it worked. His land lord had a habit of changing the lock at inopportune moments - like 12 at night after a long shift and no sleep.

He led his way up the stairs, past 56 and 58 - both dodgy, if you asked him - and finally, up to 60. Behind him, Peter, Remus and Lily (who proved herself to be the strongest of the group) carried James carefully up to the top floor.

"What's wrong with the ground level?" Peter groaned, clicking his back back into place. "Or, you know what? Underground. Underground is good."

"Please," Lily said, rolling her eyes, "You were only carrying one side. I was carrying the back, and the weight of his head. Do you know how big that thing is?"

"All the better to think lewd thoughts about you, my dear," James quipped, leading the way into the apartment. "Ohh, a massive microwave!" He wheeled over to the kitchen to inspect the dials on said microwave.

"I can't cook," Sirius shrugged. "You expect me to live on Super Noodles without a decent microwave?"

"Look at those books!" Remus said happily, walking over to the bookcase that took up basically the whole flat. "Catch 22... Lord of the Flies... Harry Potter... Seriously? Pride and Prejudice?" He held up an ornate, hard back cover of Jane Austen's novel.

"Yeah, yeah, alright, go through all my stuff. See if I care." He peeked into his bedroom, where Lily was snooping through his drawers. "Stay out of my underwear, Evans!"

"With pleasure, Black!" she shouted back, closing one of the cabinets with a bang.

"It's nice," Peter commented, looking out of one of the windows. "How the hell did you get this on a doctor's salary?"

"Fucked the landlord." Peter choked.

"Was he fit?" James called from the kitchen, looking through his fridge. "And do you actually own anything other than Super Noodles, beer and... is that Cadbury's?"

"He was a work of art," Sirius assured him, coming up behind James and putting the chocolate back in the fridge. "And don't touch the supplies. That is what I survive on; also, hospital cafeteria coffee, trashy romance novels and the odd ice cream."

"Did you really shag the landlord?" Lily asked, feminine curiosity losing out to the feminine need for gossip.

"Yes, but that's not how I got the flat."

"So how did you? And are you really gay or was it - what do you call it? Experimentation? Bi-curiusity? Something like that," James added, wheeling into the room, skipping past a TV guide and inspecting one of Sirius' unexplained single socks over the sofa.

"Yes, I am gay, and I got it because my parents were horrible rich bastards who started to feel guilty after I proved I had an eye for medicine as well as music." He looked over at Remus. "You know, for someone who was so disgusted by its presence, you're definitely enjoying Pride and Prejudice."

"Hey, at least it's not Gone With The Wind, and plus-" He waved the novel in the air. "- Austen wasn't a complete romantic. Just a cynical as the rest of us, I reckon, deep down."

"So what's the plan then?" Peter asked, plonking himself down on the sofa and kicking off his shoes with difficulty. "We staying here, or...?"

"We can probably kip here tonight, right?" Lily said, joining him on one of the cushions on the floor. "Then move on tomorrow, book a hotel, trash Harrods... that kind of thing."

"I am not trashing Harrods," Sirius said sternly, whipping Pride and Prejudice out of Remus' hands and replacing it on the shelf. "I've probably already got a criminal record for kidnapping four of my critical patients. And I'm probably sacked. If Minnie doesn't get to me first and rip off my head with her teeth."

"Please," Remus told him, "She wouldn't get her hands dirty. She'd probably get the other doctors and nurses to tear you limb from limb while she watched on in dry amusement."

Sirius nodded in agreement.

"Then she'd pull on those latex gloves, the ones that smell funny, and pull out your intestines and cook them on the barbecue."

"And then she'd hang you from the hospital roof, and dance around your broken body, chanting and laughing and rewriting your will so that everything is left to her," Lily added with a sick, twisted smile on her face as she imagined the scene.

"Finally, she'll throw your corpse in the Thames and wait years for it to decompose before fishing it out again and nailing it to her door as a warning to others," Peter finished with a flourish.

"Well, I'm glad we've got my death all sorted," Sirius said sarcastically, flopping down on the floor and covering his eyes with his arm. "Charmed to meet you all, by the way."

"Our pleasure," they all chanted back in unison.

"So what are we doing then? Movie?" James asked, rolling up beside the sofa and very narrowly avoiding Sirius' toes. "Final Destination, anybody?"

"Dear God, no," Lily replied. "No lame, boys' night action movies. I refuse. As the only girl here, I resolve to have final pick." All the other four stared at her. "With the exception of being overruled if I chose any chick flicks or date night romantic comedies."

"Thank God," Peter groaned. "I had, like, nineteen girl cousins when I was younger. Do you know how much I suffered? Traumatised, I was."

"Damaged people are dangerous," Remus said wisely. "They don't know when to stop."

Lily blinked. "So... The Hangover?"

A chorus of, "Yes, dear god, yes!" and one lone shout of, "I swear, if you even think of putting on Hangover 2, the one without the tiger song, then I will make you suffer a fate worse than Sirius'..."

They all huddled round the sofa, and Sirius sat up as Remus joined him on the floor. 1984 appeared again, and Sirius recognised Pride and Prejudice being written in the margin, and Remus didn't even look away from the television as he started to sketch something in the top right hand corner.

Lily groaned and hit the DVD player with her cast and her good arm simultaneously. Sirius heard rather than saw her collapse on James' lap.

Sirius closed his eyes just as Peter shouted, "Dear god, people! My eyes! They burn! Get a bloody room that the rest of us aren't in, will you?" and Lily giggled manically and he could practically hear James' grin. Remus' breathing slowed.

"So you two finally got round to it, then?" he asked without opening his eyes. He lifted up his hand, and James - he thought, anyway - high fived it.

"I thought you were already married," Remus commented. "Now, are we going to watch this movie or not? And no making out in the back seat, you know how it annoys Father so." Sirius opened his eyes to see Remus grinning at Peter, who had crossed his arms and was looking at all of them with a displeased expression.

He laughed louder than he had for a long time.

"It took you long enough," Peter mumbled, mainly to himself, and Lily smirked.

"I'd say I was playing hard to get, but..." She shrugged, and planted a kiss of James' cheek, watching Peter the whole time and winking at him. Both men coloured.

"You're sleeping on separate ends of the floor, lovebirds," Sirius warned them, swatting Lily's hand away and sighing.

"The Doc's just sad that he's not getting any," James commented, before gesturing to his wheelchair. "My legs don't even work and I can get a girl. Also, I call dibs on the bed, seeing as you guys can walk and all." Remus grumbled something, and moved onto the sofa that the rest of the clan had eventually vacated.

"Suit yourself. If you find any magazines, gimme," he mumbled.

"Dear God."

"Cheer up, Sirius!" Peter smiled at him, getting more comfortable and gesturing to the television screen. "They could have subjected you to Twilight. At least you have a mediocre movie to enjoy."

"There is nothing mediocre about The Hangover!" Lily shouted. They all nodded, and looked back at the film, which started to turn pink. Peter groaned, shaking his head and hitting it. Multiple times. Lily eventually shouted at him and went to fix it herself.

"You have two copies," Remus whispered suddenly.

"What?" Sirius asked. Peter left, then returned with a glass of water and two paracetamol, and he winced in sympathy. Remus himself was pale, and breathing heavily, and he knew he couldn't do anything at all, until they got him back to hospital.

What the hell had they been thinking anyway?

He shook his head. That was exactly that. They hadn't been thinking at all.

"You have... two copies... of Pride and Prejudice," Remus told him slowly, leaning back against the sofa and closing his eyes, even as Lily jumped in triumph and hugged James when she finally got the ancient box telly to work.

"And you need to concentrate on breathing, not talking," Sirius admonished, sighing slightly. "We're all fucking idiots, just leaving like that..."

"Would you have preferred for us to stay there and go mad?" he asked honestly, leaning up and looking Sirius in the eyes. His eyes weren't blue at all, Sirius realised suddenly; they were amber, like liquid gold, but at the moment they were dark, almost black.

"I would have preferred that to watching you die," he replied without thinking, again, and Remus chuckled.

"I've got a bit of life in me yet," Remus said in amusement, looking round at the five of them. Lily was now sitting on James' lap, playfully shielding the television from view, and Peter was groaning at the side lines about public displays of affection, and unresolved sexual tension, and other such rubbish before loudly exclaiming how they hadn't even kissed yet. "We all have."

"And you're all mad anyway, so I don't see what difference it makes," Sirius grumbled, watching as Lily, combat-boot wearing Lily Evans who swore at baby ducks if they got in her way, blushed as red as her hair.

"Different type of mad," Remus told him surely. "Completely different."

"Yeah?" Sirius asked, belatedly realising that no one was watching the film anyway. It didn't matter. "How so?"

He shrugged, and went back to watching the film, his handing creeping up to rest on his chest as his breath stuttered in his throat and his face paled further. He didn't look away from the television screen.

"No one chooses to be insane. Some of us embrace it. Others fight it. The different types depend on whether or not you succeed either way."