Just after midnight, Artie woke abruptly, choking. He immediately closed his mouth and covered it with a hand, desperately trying to suppress the coughing reflex, not wanting to wake Jim. Apparently, some mucus from his lungs had gotten stuck in a bad spot, and he could hardly take a breath.

A hand suddenly grabbed Artie's shoulder and sat him up. "Cough, Artie, don't hold it in."

Artie obeyed for two reasons: the first being that Jim's sudden appearance had startled him, and the second being that he couldn't suppress it anymore. He fumbled around for his handkerchief, and a clean one was suddenly placed into his hand. It took a minute for him to cough up all of the gunk that had settled in his lungs while he'd slept, and Jim again gave him some water.

"Sorry," Artie said, handing him back the empty glass.

Jim shook his head and sat on the side of the bed. "I don't care of you wake me up; this is serious. If you don't cough, I'll wake up anyway, wondering if you drowned in your sleep."

One side of Artie's mouth lifted in a half-grin.

Jim pushed on his friend's shoulder. "Lie down."

Artie obeyed.

Jim checked Artie's fever and found it unchanged. His temperature wasn't high, at least, and Jim rewet the cloth before replacing it on his friend's forehead. "Need anything else?"

Artie shook his head.

"Then go back to sleep," Jim commanded.

Artie gave him a slight smile, before dropping off.

Jim sat there for another minute, before noiselessly sighing and going back to bed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Artie woke up coughing twice more during the night, and when morning came, he lay there feeling like he'd never gone to sleep. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he knew that he and Jim had an important job to do. The show must go on, he told himself, vowing to be much better by the time that Jim woke up…or at least, he planned to let Jim think he was.

Artie almost groaned, wishing that he could just let go and admit to himself that he was a mere human and needed to rest, but instead, he had to hold his breath when his lungs spasmed. Forcing away the coughing reflex was nearly impossible, but he somehow managed…or he thought he did. He must've made some sound, because Jim suddenly turned over and sat up.

As if his lungs had a mind of their own and said to themselves, 'Jim's awake, you don't have to be quiet anymore!', Artie could no longer suppress it and finally started to cough.

Jim got out of his bed and headed over to Artie's, pouring him another glass of water. He waited until the coughing fit ended before he handed it to his friend. "How do you feel?" he asked.

Artie pushed himself up on one elbow and took the glass. He drank it before answering, "Much better."

Jim's eyebrows shot up.

Artie smiled, using all of his acting ability. "Much better," he repeated, putting the glass on the nightstand and sitting up all the way. He felt his own forehead. "Fever's gone," he lied, and stood up before Jim could check for himself.

Jim said nothing, staring. Artie had gone to bed very early, and had slept for many hours despite the few times that he had woken up coughing. Could the extra sleep have done the job? He supposed that it was possible. "That's good to hear," he said. "Are you hungry?"

Artie wasn't hungry at all. "Of course I am, Jim…when am I not?"

Jim smiled at that, before crossing over to get his clothes.

Not long after, they were heading into the hotel's dining room…Jim wearing his fake glasses, and Artie wearing his too-big clothes.

The walk down the stairs bothered Artie's lungs, and he coughed into a handkerchief as they approached a table. He caught many women giving him sympathetic looks, thinking him dying from consumption, and he gave them a very brave smile as he sat.

The coffee helped Artie wake up a little more, and he ate enough to satisfy Jim, but little enough to keep up with his ruse. Soon, they finished and headed out the door.

Spotting the sheriff's office, Jim looked around to see if anyone was watching them. "Let's find out if the sheriff has any information," he said.

Artie nodded and followed.

The sheriff knew that they were coming, and wasn't surprised when they walked in. "Ah…Mr. West, Mr. Gordon," he said, shaking their hands.

Artie shook his hand before mentally wincing. If he wasn't careful, he was going to spread influenza through the town.

"I have no more information on Parker," the sheriff told them. "He's hiding well."

Jim nodded. "I'm not surprised."

Artie coughed, covering his mouth with a handkerchief.

The sheriff suddenly noticed that Artie was wearing clothes that were too big. "What in the world?" he said.

"My latest disguise," Artie told him. "Consumption."

The sheriff smiled. "Aha! It must be a lot of fun to be an actor. Hey, now that you mention it, I saw you on stage once! You were Hamlet!"

Artie's eyebrows shot up. "You did? Did you like the show?"

"Like it?" the sheriff said. "It was amazing! I'd gone home to Chicago to visit my mother, and took her to your play. She said that you were the best Hamlet she'd ever seen."

Artie was smiling ear-to-ear. "Did she! I think I still have a couple of playbills from that show…remind me to autograph one and give it to you for her."

"She'd be tickled pink to have that!" the sheriff said.

Jim stood by, trying not to laugh. How Artie loved his fans. He started heading towards the door, not wanting anyone to find them with the sheriff and figure out who they were.

Artie nodded. "It's no trouble at all!" He followed Jim. "I'll make sure to get one the next time we go back to the train."

"All right," said the sheriff. "Thanks!"

Artie smiled and they left, heading towards the livery stable. As soon as they'd gotten far enough away, Artie started coughing again.

Jim looked at him, concerned at how long it lasted.

Artie shook his head at Jim to tell him that he was all right. "I was holding it in," he exclaimed, his voice sounding hoarse again. "Didn't want the sheriff to know the truth."

Jim sighed. "If you end up feeling worse again, I hope that you're going to tell me."

Artie gave no answer as they continued on.

"Influenza is nothing to fool around with," Jim continued. "You may be feeling better, but it might just be temporary."

Artie didn't correct him this time, since Jim was right; he'd caught influenza, not a cold, and he didn't feel well at all; his head ached, his throat was sore, his nose was stuffed, and of course, the cough. "Don't worry about me, Jim," he said. "I'm fine."

Jim sighed, but didn't contradict him.

They arrived at the livery stable a minute later and lead their horses out.

Jim watched as Artie mounted. "Are you sure about this?"

Artie looked at him. "About what?"

"You don't have to come," Jim said. "You should stay at the hotel and rest. I can investigate on my own."

Artie shook his head. "And miss all the fun?" He chuckled, but it turned into another cough. He shoved the handkerchief against his face and kicked his horse into a walk before Jim could make him stay.

Jim sighed again, and followed.

TBC