AN: Enjoy. Read and review! seriously... ok, how about please?

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Chapter 4

She tried not to stare at Jules during breakfast but she couldn't help it. Jules looked as if he hadn't slept at all during the night. The bags under his eyes might have even been a shade lighter last night, for heaven's sake. She tried to get more than a few words out of him, but it was like catching butterflies with chopsticks. Phileas wasn't much help either. Her cousin seemed intent on making things extremely uncomfortable until he found his unknown, and probably nonexistent, stalker. Though the man was reading his daily copy of the Times, he was also getting up every few minutes to look out the dining room window. Every time he did so, Phileas shuffled his papers around and by the end of it made a great mess.

During one of Phileas's longer checks, Jules leaned across the table and asked, "What is Fogg doing? This is about the twentieth time he looked out the windows."

Rebecca quickly explained what Phileas had been going through for the past weeks and in spite of the insanity of it all, she smiled. Jules was out of it, but not so much of touch with reality that he did not notice his friend's distress. "I don't know if I believe him anymore. It might be pure paranoia."

"You think he's going mad?" Jules asked nervously.

Rebecca considered the question and said carefully, "I don't think Phil has ever been completely sane."

Jules grinned at that, "Well, I suppose none of us truly are."

Phileas walked quickly back to the table, saying a soft apology and returning quickly to his newspaper. Jules seemed a little more light hearted since the exchange and was able to engage Phileas and Passepartout in a conversation on some new scientific discovery or another. Rebecca listened and put in her own two bits once in a while, but really it was just nice to have everything back to this semblance of normality, even if it was for a little while. She could tell that this was just the beginning. Whatever was bothering Jules still needed to be rooted out and whatever was with Phileas still needed to be discovered.

She hoped that she could help them. She knew Phileas wasn't too far gone but Jules... Jules had been gone from them for so long that she wasn't exactly sure where he stood anymore. However the concern Jules had for Phileas and the more animated discourse, gave her hope.

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Passepartout walked next to Jules, holding an assortment of items from various stores. He would be able to unload them on the next block where the coach was parked, but till then he precariously balanced a few of the less breakable items while keeping a tight hold on the others.

The day had progressed well enough and though Jules still looked like he might fall asleep if he sat down, they had a good day. They had gone through many shops, looking at this and that. Things were bought on a whim at times. It seemed like one of those perfect days with the weather warm and sunny. But underneath it, the anxiety was almost tangible.

When they came upon the carriage, Jules offered to help him unload while Master Fogg and Miss Rebecca decided to go into a perfume store. Jules had been holding a few bags and stuck them into the carriage's storage area before taking the more precarious items that Passepartout had a hold on.

"I know you used to be a juggler, my friend." Jules said jokingly, "but this is just plain showing off."

Passepartout smiled, "I like reminding myself of my old tricks is good, it lets me feel a little bit younger."

"You're not that old." Jules commented, "Are you?"

"You'd be surprised," Passepartout laughed as he put in the last few packages. He rearranged a few things to make everything fit more nicely before closing the carriage's door and instructing the driver to wait a bit longer as the Foggs made their last purchase.

When he heard a small gasp from behind him, he turned quickly and found Jules staggering and clutching his head as if he had been struck. Passepartout swiftly grabbed the young man and pulled him into the carriage. With Jules seated, Passepartout did a quick evaluation of his friend but found nothing immediately life threatening. Jules had his eyes tightly screwed shut and his breathing was faster than normal. The writer had his hands to his temples, finger nails clawing and digging in, as if he were trying to hold his brains in.

Passepartout called to him a few times, but was not able to get any sort of response other than a few pain filled moans. Anxiety filled him, he wasn't sure what was wrong or what to do. He had some medical knowledge and a better than average understanding of how people work but that did not mean that he knew what to do. The panic was rising and he still wasn't sure where Master Fogg and Miss Rebecca were. He could run out of the carriage and get them quickly but he didn't want to leave Jules alone, so he called out to the driver and told him to get the Foggs.

"Jules please," Passepartout tried again, "Jules, you're really starting to scare me."

Jules's eyes snapped open and Passepartout almost gave a relieved sigh but before he could Jules started convulsing.