Disclaimer: Belongs to Sci-Fi, characters not mine, you know the song

Feedback: A kindness, not a toll

Something, and good Lord she didn't want to think too closely about what it was, splattered against the umbrella Hobbes was holding before them as a shield. They'd arrived with something far more durable – full body environmental suits being worn, and this was the important part, by people who weren't her.

Then they'd discovered the … substance … had developed corrosive properties and those suits and the men in them had suddenly found other places to be. Claire had to admit they really weren't being paid enough for this. Neither was she and on the heels of this realisation came the plan to repeat as much to the Official. At volume.

But that was later. For now, she gained a firmer grip on the flask in her hands and said a short but heartfelt prayer it would be enough.

The yellow polka dotted fabric of the umbrella billowed in under another assault and then disintegrated into hissing quick-silver coated flecks, revealing Fawkes cocooned in misery and blankets at the far end of the apartment. The handful of tissues he held over his face were doing a barely adequate job of containing the results of the full-body sneezes that were sending little globs of silent but deadly mucus flying towards them.

It was a relief to see his eyes weren't beginning to redden but that relief was dampened by the fact he didn't even seem aware of their presence.

Bobby spoke out the corner of his mouth, keeping a wary eye out for the next explosion as they inched their way forward and obviously ready to dive and roll at a moments notice.

"I'm kinda surprised this place isn't already crawling with those Chinese guys. Gotta know they'd love a piece of this action." He paused and then shrugged acknowledgement of the flaw in his logic. "If they could stop it eating through them."

She smiled, she couldn't quite help it. "Maybe they are here; they could easily be hiding behind that potted plant."

Bobby's head turned fractionally towards the plant, freestanding in its pot in the corner and so far miraculously unscathed. His expression was tightly controlled and completely failed to hide eagerness with a thin covering of nonchalance. "Huh."

"I'm joking, Bobby."

"Sure, I know that."

After a few more steps she realised he'd altered their course, now taking them towards the potted plant rather than the bed and their pathetically sniffling target.

"Bobby!"

"What? You never heard of bugs?"

"Then I wish anyone listening the joy of their evening." She craned her head past Bobby towards the plant and spoke with careful enunciation. "I am the Keeper, that's K-E-E-P-E-R, accompanied by Robert Hobbes, two Bees, and soundtrack scored for gland-flu."

At the sound of a sharply indrawn of breath from the vicinity of the bed, they took cover behind the dubious safety of the couch. There was a magazine that had been hastily stuffed under a cushion and her hand reached for it before she'd even considered whether she even wanted to see the sort of magazine men stuffed under cushions.

Bobby's hand nudged hers away. "Hey, leave the guy some privacy."

If she'd had any doubts of wanting to see it before, they were gone now. The magazine had a strange allure, hinting at lands unknown. She spoke as she idly checked the temperature of her forehead with the back of her hand. "He has no privacy from me." A little warm, that might explain it.

"That's very humane."

"Oh, come on. Aren't you curious?"

"No." Bobby folded his arms and leaned back against the couch, body blocking her access to the magazine. "I respect privacy."

"And you know what it is."

At least he had the grace to look a little sheepish. "And I know what it is. That's not the point. Hey, sounds like it's getting quieter over there." Bobby raised his head tentatively over the top of the parapet. "Hey, partner. You with us?"

There was pathetic snuffling in the silence, then finally a groggy reply. "Nnck."

Bobby turned until he was kneeling, looking over. His back thanked him. "You still you?"

"Nenk."

"We okay to come over there?"

Bobby turned at the sound of a rustle and after a brief, but humiliating, tug of war managed to rip the magazine from Claire before she'd been able to see it properly. He folded it roughly and crammed it into his inner jacket pocket. It promptly began to unfold, creating a miniature tent that didn't seem to want stop growing. He stoically ignored it until it burst in a fashion reminiscent of Alien from the gap at his neck.

Claire was staring straight ahead with the fixed expression of someone who has decided it probably isn't in their healthiest interest to collapse laughing. Muttering under his breath, he tucked the magazine flat against him and buttoned his jacket. This time it behaved.

When he turned back around, the woman was frowning slightly as she touched a spot on the back of his sleeve. "You have a burn here."

"So?"

"I thought you said you hadn't been here today."

"Yeah, and?"

"Well, where did you get this? It didn't happen just now, it's dried. Old."

Her frown deepened and he managed not to panic - Bobby Hobbes, always cool under fire, my friend. "Some guy with a cigarette in the street. What?"

"If you were here before it's really important to know, Bobby …"

"Why?"

"Well …" Claire paused, trying to think of valid reasons. She was sure there were many, but her motives were perhaps not entirely pure and that cleared her mind. By the time the word 'quarantine' made a belated appearance, Hobbes was already shaking his head.

"Didn't we just talk about privacy? Didn't we just finish talking about it? I can ask the guys listening in the plant if you want."

"Fine, fine. Sorry."

"You don't look sorry."

"I'm sorry!"

"Nnk!"

"Sorry", they chorused.

Bobby stood and after a moments hesitation Claire followed suit. Fawkes was staring at them with the bemused expression of the deeply sinus-blocked.

"Nk?"

"This?" Hobbes pointed a finger towards the silver flask in Claire's hand. At Fawkes nod he went on. "Chicken soup, my friend."

"Nng."

"Chicken soup with help. Help with way more syllables than I really feel like pronouncing. I could if I wanted to, but you'd get bored. You can have it if you promise to sneeze away from us."

Fawkes turned his head, regarding the poster on his wall. It was one he'd had since he was a kid, an Escher print with stairs his mind could follow all the way to the top. He turned his head back.

"N'nuh."

Claire and Hobbes froze mid-stride a foot from the bed, the first with wide eyed terror and the second with hurt betrayal. Both were a little over done for the stage, but he grunted and looked back to the Escher with the mental note to let neither get into acting. The amount of good karma alone that should generate would assure nirvana. Or Zen. Or whatever it was meant to assure. Greg? No, that was Dharma.

It occurred to him he might not be at his best.

"Okay, Darien, I'm holding a m- keep your head away from me!"

Claire recoiled as he looked her way by reflex trying to find the handle of the mug. The sneeze went over her head as she hit the floor, Hobbes falling to cover her a second later. His partner looked up at him balefully.

"Drink the soup."

"Ng", he agreed, and drunk the soup.

A few moments passed and then Claire raised her head at the soft thud on the bed above. With a smile she began to crawl her way out from under her human shield. After the prerequisite attempt to stay put, Hobbes helped her stand.

"You drugged him?"

"Only as a side-effect. I've shut him down to let the anti-viral work more quickly. Help me turn him on his side so he can breathe."

"He can't breathe?"

"Of course he can breathe - it's just a precaution, Bobby."

They rolled Darien over until he was curled on his side, one sucked thumb short of a chocolate box cover. Assuming the minor details of the red nose, sweat and bathrobe with burn marks all along the cuffs were ignored.

"How long?"

Six hours or so, I should think. He'll probably still have a cold but hopefully it won't be affecting the gland.

"So someone should stay with him then? The breathing thing and all."

Claire considered and then shook her head. "It's probably not nec-"

"Right, well, don't worry about it. I know you're busy with the gland research so I'll put in the overtime."

"Bobby, I don't …"

They stared at each other for a long moment before the light dawned in Claire's eyes. "You want to search the pot plant."

Bobby looked down and then his gaze slid across to the plant. "Can't be too careful, right?"

"Fine, whatever. Make sure he has fluids and keep me updated of changes." She began to pick her way over the smouldering debris scattered over the floor towards the door.

"Yeah, no problem."

Hobbes waved with a bright smile as she left

A few miles across the city, in a small low-lit office, a man began punching in a code. He spoke in rapid Cantonese to his superior, explaining the necessity of the self-destruction of the device and, later, made a written recommendation that flora was inappropriate as a cover for such equipment.

The plant survived.