A.N. Oh boy, here we go again with my Bleach obsession. This idea has been bouncing around my head for a while, but I'm surprised at how long it ended up being. Of course, I'm not mad about it because I'm never mad about hurt/comfort and fluff that's about Jūshirō. Enjoy!

A particularly hot and humid stretch of days at the end of September has caused it. A nasty flare-up of his illness that had left Jūshirō bed-ridden and dangerously febrile. He'd spent three nights at the Fourth Division before being released back to Ugendō under strict instructions that should his fever exceed 39.4 Celsius he was to be brought back immediately.

Sliding the door to the bedroom with her foot, Kagomei carefully approached the bed and set down a bucket of lukewarm water and a washcloth. Bed baths weren't an uncommon ritual when Jūshirō was at his sickest and although it had been awkward at first, she'd read that bathing could help lower fevers in addition to promoting comfort. His temperature that morning had been 38 degrees – slightly worrying but still well enough to remain at the estate. One of the many unfortunate side effects of the high temperature was that it made Jūshirō too dizzy to be up for any length of time, and a hot bath would only exacerbate that, so a sponge bath was the next best option.

It helped that he wasn't conscious long enough to properly argue with her. Not that he would have stood a chance regardless.

"Jūshirō," she called softly, "I'm going to give you a bath."

She wasn't surprised with the lack of response. What was concerning was the sweat that seemed to be pouring off him, his bangs plastered to his forehead. Reaching out, she gently brushed his hair back from his face, frowning when her finger brushed his forehead.

Too hot, she thought to herself. His temperature has gone back up again.

Grabbing the thermometer from the station of care items she'd set up near the bed she let out a quiet chuckle. A tympanic thermometer – something Ichigo Kurosaki had brought to Soul Society after being dumbfounded that the Fourth Division still used oral and axilla thermometers. Kagomei had to admit that the device was very useful as she gently inserted it into Jūshirō's ear and waited the two or three seconds for it to beep and tell her it was done. Sitting back, she stared down at the device in disbelief.

"40.1 degrees? Dammit!"

Kagomei moved to call a Hell Butterfly when she was stopped by a hand grabbing her wrist.

"Jūshirō?"

His eyelids fluttered and Kagomei could see that he was struggling to open his eyes and to wake-up.

"Just relax," she soothed as his grip on her wrist tightened. "You're at Ugendō but you've got a high fever. You need to let me call Captain Unohana."

"Who…are you?" Jūshirō's voice was strained and hoarse when he finally spoke. It wasn't the tone of his voice that concerned Kagomei, however, it was the words themselves that he'd spoken.

"Jushiro," she said, trying to quell a rising panic within her, "let go of my arm."

"How did you get in here?" He asked and although he was looking at her this time, Kagomei could see the fever in his eyes. His normally bright and alert gaze was now hazy and unfocused.

"I came in with you." she answered calmly. "You spent some time in the Fourth Division because you were sick but Captain Unohana said you were well enough to leave – that was yesterday."

As she spoke she tried nonchalantly to wiggle her wrist free of his grasp but his grip was like iron and even in his state of illness Kagomei wasn't strong enough to break it without using her other hand.

"You're lying."

Kagomei froze as warning bells started going off at the back of her mind. Before she could think of a way to respond he'd reached up and grabbed the collar of her kosode, pulling her down until they were face-to-face. Close-up, Kagomei could feel the heat radiating off his skin and could hear the faint wheeze in his lungs.

"I don't want to fight you," he said lowly, "so I'm going to give you a chance to tell me the truth: who sent you and why are you here?"

"I'm not lying to you." she said slowly, hoping that her tone conveyed calm. "You have a fever of 40.1 degrees and that might be why you're confused but we know each other…quite well."

For a moment they just stared at one another without speaking a word, and from her proximity, Kagomei could see his confusion as he struggled to consolidate what she was saying with his version of reality.

It broke her heart all over again to see him this way.

"Ukitake?"

Kagomei almost laughed out loud when she heard Shunsui's voice from over her shoulder. His entrance couldn't have been better timed if it had been planned.

Jūshirō's brows furrowed. "Kyōraku?" he asked.

"Yare yare, what have I walked-in on this afternoon?"

Kagomei half-snorted; leave it to Shunsui to make everything an innuendo. Despite his lighthearted teasing, she could hear a tightness to his voice that wasn't normally there and it relieved her to know that he understood that all was not well.

"She broke in," Jūshirō said, his grip on the kosode tightening. Kagomei shook her head reflexively and opened her mouth to speak but was silenced by Shunsui's hand on her back.

"A beautiful young woman breaks into your estate and you treat her like this? Shame on you Ukitake – let her go."

Kagomei could see Jūshirō's internal debate over Shunsui's words. Millenia of trust and friendship overruled whatever the fever had caused him to believe, however, and he slowly released his grip on her clothing.

"You stay here and let me take care of this okay, Ukitake?" Without waiting for a response from the sickly captain, Kagomei felt Shunsui's hand on her elbow, helping her to her feet and out of the room. As soon as the screen door closed behind them, Kagomei let out the breath she'd been holding since she'd walked into the room initially. Instinctively, she reached up to flatten the collar of her kosode where it had been bunched in Jūshirō's hand.

Shunsui's fingers against hers brought her back to the present moment and when she looked up at him she was taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. He was such a carefree man that in the rare moments he was serious, the shift in him was monumental.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

She nodded, "Yes – of course. He just startled me…"

Shunsui made a noncommittal noise, "He needs to go back to the Fourth?"

"Definitely. I've never seen him like this-"

Whatever else she had planned to say was cut off by the sound of soft laughter and indistinguishable mumbles coming from the other side of the screen door.

"Mmm. Well whatever he's hallucinating about can't be that bad." Shunsui joked when the sound had died off.

The glare Kagomei gave him must have been more potent than she'd imagined because he summoned a Hell Butterfly so quickly it was almost comical. Kagomei watched the butterfly disappear and expected to feel relieved, but couldn't deny that sadness that settled into her chest. Jūshirō's illness was a normal abnormal in their lives but that didn't make it any easier to deal with the reality of watching such a strong and dignified man become so weak and disoriented.

They stood in relative silence until the medics from the Fourth Division arrived. Kagomei briefed them about what had happened while Shunsui helped them to get Jūshirō onto the stretcher. They'd stopped hearing any noise from inside the bedroom soon after the Hell Butterfly had been sent and Kagomei wasn't surprised to see that he'd fallen unconscious again.

"We're going to take him now," one of the medics said, although they didn't wait for a response before taking their leave.

Shunsui sighed next to her, "Well…shall we?" he asked.

"I guess we shall." Kagomei said with a sad smile.

Jūshirō's consciousness came back to him long before he was able to open his eyes. It was always this way – his mind recovered faster than his body could. Usually, he floated in and out of sleep until he could wake up properly but from time to time he caught an interesting bit of conversation that was worth listening to. It wasn't that he was eavesdropping, but, listening to the conversations between the nurses could be quite entertaining. They often assumed he was still unconscious and couldn't hear them speaking, however, he'd listened to more than he would ever admit to about various relationships – some quite scandalous.

What kept him awake this time was the sound of Kyōraku's voice. He could hear his friend's deep baritone even though he couldn't make out the words. It sounded as if his friend was speaking through a cloth and it would take a couple of minutes before the words made sense. In the meantime, Jūshirō was content to listen to the voices around him; they must have had him on the good painkillers because the pain in his throat and chest was nothing but a dull ache.

Which unfortunately also meant that the attack had been severe.

"Well handsome, are you going to open your eyes and give me a glimpse of those lovely brown eyes of yours…Ukitake?"

Jūshirō almost wished that he hadn't been able to understand Kyōraku's words, the man was prone to such cliché. All the same, the familiar banter lifted his spirits. It took a few moments to open his eyes but when he did the harsh hospital lights were blinding and he reflexively tried to bring an arm up to cover his eyes.

"Don't move that arm you'll pull your line out." Kyōraku's voice accompanied the hand on his arm. "Sorry Ukitake – I forgot about the lights."

"It's all right," Jūshirō croaked – his throat was so dry – and opened his eyes again to a much darker room. It still took his eyes a moment to adjust and when they did he was disappointed to see that only Kyōraku was in the room.

"I've made her go get some proper sleep and a decent meal." Kyōraku said, seemingly answering Jūshirō's thoughts. He also brought closer the cup of ice chips sitting on the bedside table, and although it was half-empty – clearly the boredom must have gotten to Kyōraku – Jūshirō accepted them gratefully as a way to soothe his throat without upsetting his stomach.

Jūshirō nodded, "Thank you. How long have I been out?"

Kyōraku's face grew serious, "How much do you remember?"

Jushiro quirked an eyebrow, "Remember? I remember collapsing at the office…was I awake between then and now? I vaguely remember being awake but there's nothing concrete. Why?"

Kyōraku nodded, "You've only been asleep for about a day. You were well enough to go home two days ago but you got sick again after Kagomei-chan took you home."

"Really? I don't remember that at all!"

Kyōraku cleared his throat, "Not really that surprising. I can't even remember the last time you were like that."

A heavy silence settled between them as they both seemed to digest the full implications of Kyōraku's words. It was an open – but unspoken – secret that his illness was getting progressively worse, but it was incidents like this that brought that reality to the forefront.

"How is she?" Jūshirō asked quietly.

Kyōraku shrugged, "As well as can be expected. She knew what she was getting herself into, theoretically, but nothing can compare to the reality…" as Kyōraku's voice trailed off. Jūshirō's curiosity was piqued – his friend was rarely at a loss for words.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Kyōraku?" As he tried to remain outwardly calm, Jūshirō felt his brain race with questions. Had something happened? Was the reality of his illness too much? That last thought was almost too much to bear and Jūshirō shook his head outright trying to clear it from his mind.

A silence stretched between them for a moment before Kyōraku relented with a long sigh, "There's no need to look so serious. I'm sure Kagomei-chan would rather I not say anything but it's something I would want to know."

"What is?" Jūshirō pressed.

Kyōraku tipped his hat back, "You had a bit of a…scuffle with Kagomei-chan yesterday. I walked in towards the end and she assured me that it was nothing serious but in your delirium, you mistook her as someone who'd broken into Ugendō."

Jūshirō balked, "What does that mean? What happened? Where is she?" the questions came out so quickly that Kyōraku looked slightly overwhelmed as he held his hands up in front of himself.

"Nothing happened," Kyōraku said. "You grabbed her by her uniform – detained her would be a better word."

"Is she okay?" What had he done?

"She is fine."

With all his attention centered on Kyōraku, the voice coming from the doorway nearly made him jump out of his skin.

"Kagomei," her name came out of his mouth like a prayer.

The smile she gave him was soft and made his chest warm. The glare she gave to Kyōraku was the exact opposite, however.

"You told him?" she demanded.

Kyōraku cleared his throat, "…I think it's time for me to go. My Nanao-chan will no doubt have some paperwork for me to do. I'll be back to chat later, Ukitake."

Jūshirō chuckled softly and waved as Kyōraku snuck out of the room – artfully avoiding Kagomei's question at the same time. There was an awkward moment that hung in the air after Kyōraku had gone and Jūshirō took the time to take a good look at the woman in front of him. From across the room she looked perfectly intact – there were no bruises on her wrists or anywhere else that he could see.

"Stop it. I'm fine." Kagomei said as if she could read his mind.

"Come closer." He had to be sure for himself.

Her expression softened, but nonetheless she put down the bad she'd brought in and walked across to him, taking a hold of his outstretched hand. Her other hand came up and brushed his hair away from his face, fingertips grazing down the side of his face. The difference from when she'd last seen him – feverish and delirious – was alarming but comforting.

"Nothing happened." she asserted again in response to the worry in his expression. "You grabbed the front of my kosode and my wrist, but, like I'm sure Kyōraku explained, you were too sick to know who I was. It was a little bit of a scare, sure, but nothing serious."

His grip on her hand tightened and he took a moment to consider her words. After a moment he slowly relaxed, which was reassuring to Kagomei.

"This has never happened before," he began, "I don't ever want to hurt you."

Kagomei nodded, "I understand that, and I don't doubt that you could have hurt me, but I don't think it would have happened. You're not one to settle issues with your fists…and I mean it's not like I can't hold my own. I may not be anywhere near as strong as you, but I could have gotten away had I really needed to."

Jūshirō laughed softly, "Fair enough. As long as you're sure you're okay?"

She rolled her eyes, "If you ask one more time I might not be. Besides – I should be the one asking you that, shouldn't I?"

"I'm feeling…more coherent," he said, "I feel like I'm actually awake for the first time in a while…but tired."

She made a sound in agreement, he did look tired but it was sometimes hard to distinguish between what was sickness and what was fatigue.

"And the pain?" she asked.

He shrugged, "The discomfort comes and goes as it always does. They keep it pretty well under control."

"Good," she smiled. "Now why don't you go back to sleep?"

Although he opened his mouth to protest, the yawn that overtook him cut off any argument he'd formed in his head.

Kagomei laughed and leaned over him to press a soft kiss to his forehead. "Go to sleep," she demanded softly, "I'll be here when you wake up. I love you."

"I love you too…" he murmured sleepily. The moment he closed his eyes the exhaustion washed over him like a wave. Even though all he'd done was speak since waking, his body was clearly still at its limits. Within seconds he felt himself drifting, and with the spiritual pressure of the woman he loved surrounding him, he relaxed and let sleep take him.