"Okay, Maya. Quick check-up before I go to work."

Topanga smiled, sitting next to Maya on the couch. In the chair across from them, Shawn took a seat and watched thoughtfully as Topanga placed a thermometer in Maya's mouth, gently feeling her hands and the back of her neck for a fever. As long as he had known her, Topanga had a natural care and concern for others - whether she barely knew them, whether they were family or friend.

He remembered how kind she had been to him when he had had the chicken pox back in high school, and since no one was around to take care of him or his brother Jack, she had selflessly offered to be their personal nurse until they were healthy again. Now, she was treating Maya like she was her own daughter, rubbing her back until the thermometer beeped.

Cringing as she read it, Topanga checked Maya's weak eyes. According to the thermometer, she had a temperature that had reached over 100 degrees. She had been afraid of such a result, as Maya's hands felt cold to the touch and her neck felt warmed with a fever.

From the expression on Topanga's face, Shawn interpreted the worst. "What's it say?"

"It's saying 101.2," Topanga said, placing it on the coffee table and turning to Maya. "Have you been hydrating, Maya?"

Maya fidgeted a little, avoiding eye contact with Topanga. "I haven't kept anything down, Mrs. Matthews."

The concern in Topanga's eyes grew, looking over at Shawn as she thought. Most likely, Maya was dehydrated, but if she wasn't and she continued getting sick, she would reach that point quickly. The question was present in both of their minds, but neither knew if or when it would be necessary to take Maya to the hospital.

Suddenly, Shawn nodded as if they had been discussing what to do inside each other's minds. Topanga did likewise, gathering the thermometer as she stood up and climbed into the kitchen.

"I'll get you a glass of water," Topanga said.

"Give her some medicine, too, Topanga," Shawn said, sitting next to Maya. "That might help."

Shawn could easily guess at how Maya was feeling from her body language, as she shifted her head into her hands and closed her eyes with a long sigh. Before he realized he had done so, he was reaching over and putting his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder in hopes of soothing her.

"I'm sorry, kid," Shawn said. "I know how it feels."

"To be sick?" Maya said, looking up at him.

"No," Shawn said. "I know how it feels to hide from your parents when you need them."

"Really?"

"Yep. When I was in 6th grade, I was the proud owner of a cherry bomb. Of course, I was tempted to light it, and of course, I lit it at the most inconvenient time. I lit it in the parking lot of Cory's dad's grocery store, and I panicked. So, I threw it into a United States mailbox and blew it up.'

"It exploded?" Maya said, her tone and eyes filled with shock.

"No, but it definitely did damage. Afterwards, I was afraid to go home and face my parents, so I hid at Cory's house for awhile. I almost ran away. I was lucky to have Cory there to force me to stay."

Maya furrowed her eyebrows, shaking her head. "I'm not running away."

"You're running away from your mom, Maya," Shawn's tone was low and serious. "You're running away from your broken relationship with her. Trust me, she needs help as much as you do. She's your mother, and she's worried about you."

Maya looked down, running her hand across her face as she closed her eyes, starting to feel guilty by what he was saying.

"Aren't you worried about her?"