Good morning! Well, it's certainly been an interesting week since I last posted! :) I hope everyone's doing alright and staying safe and calm. Idk about you, but I definitely need an escape from reality and reading some good fanfic has gotten me through the weekend (along with a "Fringe" binge haha). If only my new amazon firestick hadn't been delayed (thanks corona), I would've been starting on The Mandalorian. Ah well. It was a chill weekend which I needed in order to be able to face the week ahead lol.

Let's check in on the Leandros brothers and see how they're faring...(hint? not so well...)

Cal

The third shower hadn't worked any miracles, but it had helped take the stench down another notch. I could almost make it five whole minutes at a time without gagging up my esophagus and stomach lining. Progress.

I had to lean over the sink for a few minutes, concentrating hard on that whole not gagging thing before I could finish toweling off and getting dressed. After getting my gut back under some semblance of control, I managed to pull on clean underwear and a pair of mostly clean sweatpants. My hair was still dripping but I didn't have enough energy or motivation to bother toweling off.

At this point, I was going to be lucky to make it to my bed and I wasn't going near my bed until I checked on Nik. Something was very wrong with him and that worried me more than anything. I could handle my screwed up genetics and monstrously amped up sense of smell. It sucked, but I could handle it.

What I couldn't handle was my brother being sick.

Monsters were annoying, my brother's sickness was terrifying.

I was at a complete loss. He'd barely ever been sick in our entire lives and he'd never been sick since we'd settled in New York. Beyond making him a cup of tea and maybe a bowl of chicken noodle soup because people seemed to think that was a miracle cure or something, I didn't have a clue what I was supposed to do. I hate not knowing what to do.

Focus.

Another thing I wasn't particularly good at.

I left the bathroom and focused on getting to my brother. Reaching his bedroom without any vomiting or other issues, I peeked in the open door. He was on his bed, but he wasn't sleeping. At least not soundly or comfortably. On his back on top of the covers, he was moving restlessly. Head tossing back and forth, his hands clutching at the sheets. His eyes were closed and his lips moving silently.

Well, shit.

I hovered in the doorway, wondering if I should wake him up or if I should just let him sleep it off. And then he sat up and nearly scared the crap out of me.

"Cal?"

Of course. Of course he'd wake up at the merest hint of my nearness. Practically unconscious and out of his head with a fever, he was still more with it than I was on my best day.

"Hey," I croaked out, trying to calm my racing heart. He'd popped up like a corpse rising from the dead. I couldn't help it if my heart was human enough to freak the hell out.

"Are you alright?" he asked calmly. Like I was the one who was under the weather.

"I'm fine."

"Hmm." He studied me blearily for a moment, then flopped backwards.

"How are you doing?" I asked, leaning a shoulder on the door frame.

He groaned. Actually groaned. Like a human being.

That was concerning.

"Nik?"

"'m ok. Headache."

"And?"

"Everything else aches."

"More meds?"

"Too soon." He waved a hand. "Get some sleep. I'm fine."

I walked into the room and grabbed his phone from the dresser. Ensuring it was charged, I put it in his hand.

"Don't lose that." The if you need anything call me was left unstated.

Eyes still closed, he waved the hand with the phone in it.

Not completely reassured, I went to my room anyway. Maybe it was just a mild cold or something. He was coherent and alert enough to speak to me. All I could do was hope.

I crashed on my bed, suddenly exhausted. It hadn't been that long of a day, but throwing up everything I'd eaten in the past two days had a way of wearing me out. Turning my face out of the pillow, the glass of water next to my bed caught my attention.

Nik.

Always thinking of me. Even when he was sick. It kind of pissed me off. He never took any time for himself. Never focused on his own needs or wants. Never stopped worrying about me.

With a sigh, I pushed myself upright and took a drink because I could hear Nik nagging at me to rehydrate.

The water hit my gut exactly as I'd expected it to - as a lead weight. Groaning, I curled around a pillow. Three showers and I could still smell that damned creature. Nik had triple bagged up our clothes and shoved them in the trunk of his car. They were going to have to burn; no amount of washing would ever render them wearable again. Maybe we'd have to burn the car too. That wouldn't be a great loss but I was going to miss my leather jacket.

I buried my face in the pillow and tried to convince my stomach not to reject the water. Nik was right about the dehydration (when wasn't he right?). The room seemed to be spinning and I was suddenly dizzy as hell.

I clung to the pillow, hoped for the best, and, unexpectedly, fell asleep.

Sleeping like the dead was great until you woke up and still felt like the dead.

When I woke up it was to a pounding head and the sound of Nik calling my name.

If it hadn't been for the headache, I would've shouted at him to leave me alone like I did most mornings. I didn't know what time it was, but I was sure it was too early for me to be awake. Instead of shouting, though, I held really still and hoped my head wouldn't explode. Remembering why I felt like crap took a moment longer and then I was pushing myself upright; exploding head be damned.

"Nik?" I called, fear tightening around my heart as my fingers tightened around my gun.

My room was dark, so it wasn't morning yet. My brain was slow to swim through the disorientation, but my body was already moving toward the door. Nik wasn't calling me to get me up for a ten mile run. He wasn't calling me to take out the trash or any other menial task. He was calling me because he needed me.

Stumbling to the doorway, I put my free hand out to catch myself before I wound up on the floor. My legs were about as steady as limp noodles. Gritting my teeth against the pounding in my head, I leaned against the wall and slowly shuffled toward Nik's room. Thankfully we weren't rich and our rooms were very close or I would've been crawling.

Mouth dry, I called his name again. He was mumbling, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. That made me hurry faster.

My sluggish brain worked through the fuzzy memories as I moved. The hunt came back in vivid, goopy neon purple color. It explained why I felt like crap. But Nik, Nik was sick. The flu?

I made it to his bedroom door without incident which would have been something to celebrate except I was too busy trying not to panic.

"Nik?"

He was struggling to stand up and I reached his side in just enough time to push him back onto the edge of the bed before he fell over. Reaching out for me, his grey eyes were glazed and wild. As soon as he tightened his fingers around my wrist, though, some of the wildness faded.

"Cal?"

"Yeah." I sat down heavily next to him. "What's wrong?"

"I...you were…" His voice trailed off as he frowned. Staring at me like I was a puzzle, his grip on my wrist didn't let up. "I thought I saw you…"

He didn't finish the sentence and he didn't need to. I'd had enough nightmares of his death that I knew what he'd seen.

"I'm fine," I reassured, studying him in the moonlight. His skin was clammy and pale, his breaths too quick. "You awake?"

"I'm awake." Despite his affirmation, he was staring at me like he wasn't sure I was real. One hand still gripping my wrist, he said, "I think I'm sick."

It wasn't really something to laugh about, but the dumbfounded expression on his face was hilarious. He just couldn't wrap his brain around the fact that he - Mr. Health and Wellness himself - was sick. I laughed. And then I cursed because laughing made my head hurt ten times worse than it already did.

Rubbing my forehead with my free hand, I said, "You're definitely sick."

"Are you sick?"

"No. I just have a headache."

"Did you drink the water?"

It was a relief to have him nag me about the water because it meant he wasn't completely out of his head with delirium or something.

"I drank some of it." I wasn't going to lie to him. Sick or not he'd know. He always knew. It was annoying.

He stared at me, analyzing my statement and my condition. The super smart ninja senses weren't tingling though. He just looked confused. Maybe he was still struggling to adapt to the knowledge that he was sick. If I waited for him to come to terms with his traitorous immune system, we'd both be up all night and I really wanted to be unconscious.

"Do you need anything?" I asked, shaking my wrist free from his grip. It was easier than it should have been.

"I don't…" His eyes slipped shut and he was wavering where he sat.

This was so not good.

"Alright." I stood up and did some wavering of my own. But I managed to stay on my feet as I carefully pushed him back toward his pillow. "Bed time for big brother."

"Cal."

"What?"

"We have to go." His shaking fingers weakly grasped at mine.

I sat back down next to him. Patting his hand as I settled it against his chest, I said, "What are you talking about?"

"We... we have to keep moving." His eyes were bleary and rolling around like marbles as he surveyed the room with too much anxiety for my liking. "They'll find...they'll come."

"Nobody's coming. No one's gonna wanna come over if you've got the flu. Maybe Promise will," I mused. "Maybe she'll make you soup."

"Promise?"

Well crap. This was bad and getting worse.

"Yeah. Promise. Your super hot vampire girlfriend."

Nik just looked at me like I was crazy and I kind of wished I was crazy because it would be so much better than him being crazy. Or delirious. Or whatever. I put my hand to his forehead and my terror level went up another notch. He was burning up. Absolutely burning up.

"Shit, Nik." I slid my fingers down to the side of his neck and felt his pulse. It was racing. "We gotta get you cooled down."

He shook his head back and forth, his fingers grabbing at the knee of my sweatpants. "Gotta go. We gotta go, Cal. The Grendals. They'll find us."

Crap crap crap crap.

"Nik, we're safe." As safe as we ever were. "There aren't any Grendals looking for us."

Tugging at my pants, he kept whispering we have to go over and over again. No matter how many times I repeated back to him that we were safe, he just kept saying it and growing more and more distressed. He wasn't the only one getting distressed.

I could stitch a knife wound or a bullet hole. I could dig out a bullet. I could deal with broken bones and concussions and any number of other injuries. Only once in our lives, though, had he ever been this sick, this feverish. I'd almost burned down an entire trailer park to get medications for him. The nightmarish memories assaulted me until I was nearly paralyzed with anxiety. Nik was mumbling and burning with fever and I was shutting down.

He started pushing himself up and that helped snap me out of the developing panic attack.

"Nik, stay still." My voice was unsteady but firm. Pushing him back against the pillow, I said, "You need to focus on me, ok? Can you do that?"

I really wasn't sure anything was getting past the fever, but he nodded and did stop trying to sit up, so that was something.

"Ok. Stay put. I have to get...something." Cold cloths? Tylenol? Ice packs? I would sort it out in a minute. "You need to stay still."

"Not safe."

"It is safe. Trust me."

He did. He always did, whether he should have or not. Nik nodded and released his grip on my pants.

"Ok. I'll be right back, Nik. I promise."

He nodded again, his eyes slipping closed.

Immediate crisis averted, I got back to my feet with difficulty. As I crossed the room, I debated my options. Cold compresses were pretty standard fever management and I wasn't a complete idiot, or so I told myself anyway. The temptation to call Promise was strong, though. She'd answer. Even in the middle of the night, she'd answer.

I'd start with what I knew to do and see if it would be enough.

In the bathroom, I turned the tap to the coldest it would go. While it ran, I grabbed the Tylenol and some towels. I didn't need a thermometer to know this wasn't a dainty one washcloth kind of fever. We were going to be lucky if we managed not to be taking a cold shower together tonight.

I filled up a cup with water, then lowered my head, arms resting on the edge of the sink. It wouldn't do Nik any good if I fell over. It was an unfortunate possibility, honestly.

Cursing under my breath, I dropped the towels under the cold stream and sank to my knees. I pressed my head against the cupboard and breathed through the lightheadedness that was sweeping over me in nauseating waves. I should have finished that cup of water he'd left me.

When I could move without passing out, I lifted the cup I still had in my hand and took a drink. It was only a bandaid on a gaping wound, but I had to start somewhere. Rehydrating wasn't going to happen instantly. I needed to eat something, too. My mind was fuzzy. Prioritization wasn't my strong suit on a good day but since I was the one in better shape - more or less - I needed to figure stuff out for myself.

So I finished the water, dragged myself to my feet and filled the cup again. The second cup didn't go down as easily as the first had, but it didn't come back up again, either. I filled the cup for a third time and then squeezed out the towels and turned off the water.

Getting back to Nik's room took a lot of concentration and even more cursing. Nik would've smacked the back of my head and given me a disapproving look, but the cursing was necessary motivation for me. It also helped keep me alert when things started going fuzzy again. The water had been a good first step, but I really needed to eat.

Eating had to wait, though, because I had a fire to put out.

"Nik?" I asked as I walked into his room.

He blinked at me like he was in a daze, but his lips formed my name. He might have forgotten Promise but at least he still knew me. I probably took a bit more satisfaction in that than I should have.

"Hey," I said, wavering my way to his bedside. I slumped heavily next to him.

After setting the cup on the nightstand, I unfolded one of the towels to spread over his forehead. He shivered hard and if I wasn't his brother and he wasn't half-dead, I would have been dead.

I pushed his hand away from my throat.

"Nik, calm down. You've got a fever."

He came at me again, with his fists this time.

So much for knowing me.

I caught his wrists and said, "Don't kill me. I'm trying to help, damn it."

He went boneless at that and there was a little more clarity in his eyes now. Maybe he hadn't been all the way awake when I'd put the cloth over his head. We both tended to be a lot dangerous when we weren't all the way awake. I should've known better.

"Cal?" he whispered. He didn't try to pull his hands away, just stared up at me. "I don't...I'm not...what happened?"

Grateful for a semi-coherent question, I said, "You're sick. You've got a bad fever."

He sighed and closed his eyes. "I feel-"

"Awful," I finished for him. "You feel awful. Just like you look."

For that, I got a light swat to my side as he said, "I was going to say I feel like crap."

It wasn't what I would consider off color language, but for Nik, it was practically profanity.

I snorted and asked, "You gonna try to kill me again if I put some more cold towels on you?"

"Depends on where you're planning to put them."

"A whole sentence. One that made sense." I smiled. "Maybe you're gonna live after all."

It was a joke, of course, but a very real fear was gnawing at my insides. He was making more sense right now, but I wasn't soon to forget how out of his head he'd been. I arranged the other towels against his neck and chest and he didn't try to kill me, so those must have been acceptable locations.

"How long...have I been out?" He was a little breathless and his eyes were still closed.

I shrugged. "Dunno. Haven't been paying attention."

"Time's it?"

"After two. Just." I yawned.

"You alright?"

"Yes."

This time, he squinted one eye open to give me a doubtful look. "You don't look alright."

"How would you know? Your eyes are practically crossed."

"Cal."

"I'm fine. I've got a headache, but I'm ok. And yes, I've been drinking water. We had this conversation already. Although, you probably forgot." Despite the circumstances, the wicked little brother in me couldn't resist saying, "Like you forgot your girlfriend. Wonder how Promise would feel about that?"

He was obviously more oriented because I got another swat to the side.

Things were looking up.

Nik

The sun was long past its peak when I opened heavy, gummy eyes.

I never slept late, but today my body had made an exception. Rolling my head to the side, the clock mocked me with the announcement that it was nearly eleven. Fevered or not, I had a difficult time accepting the obvious.

Rubbing my eyes, I studied the clock again, but the numbers didn't change. Almost eleven. For Cal, it was at least two hours earlier than he preferred to rise, but I wasn't sure I'd ever slept this late. Ever. Pushing myself upright didn't get me far. I flopped heavily back against the pillows. This was unacceptable.

With a little more concentration and determination, I rolled to the side and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. It took a long minute of struggle before I could push myself into a sitting position. Once upright, I had to brace both my hands on the edge of the bed and lower my head as the room spun around me.

It took longer than I would have preferred, but eventually I was on my feet. More or less. I nearly knocked the nightstand over as I wavered. Throwing out a hand at the last moment, I kept myself from collapsing to the floor. Embarrassment of such a fall aside, I doubted my ability to get back to my feet. Cal finding me on the floor was a distasteful thought.

Cal.

Frowning, I glanced at my door. It was open. I took a slow breath, then braved the few steps between the bed and the door. I made it, but only because I caught myself on the doorframe. This was worse than I'd realized. I was worse than I'd realized.

Sick or not, I needed to find my brother. It was nearly eleven and I could barely stand upright and I had no idea where Cal was. It seemed most likely that he would be either still sound asleep or else dozing on the couch. I couldn't take that chance, though. I needed confirmation.

As I shielded my eyes from the bright sunshine flooding the hallway, memories of the previous evening's adventures came back in vivid color. The job at the old estate. The creature of indeterminate substance. Our surprise victory over it. The stench.

Concern improved my balance incredibly. I'd tried to get Cal to drink something last night to make up for the fluids he'd lost thanks to the noxious odors the creature emitted. I'd fallen asleep without confirming he drank anything. Without confirming he was alright.

Unacceptable.

Regaining more stability as I walked, I glanced into his bedroom. Empty. The bathroom was as well, so I continued on to the main living area. Soft sounds drew me toward the kitchen.

Cal was at the counter, stirring a greenish fluid in a tall glass. His expression was a picture of concentration as he worked.

I crossed the room and said, "Cal."

He dropped the spoon, cursed flamboyantly, and his hand went for the gun he had next to the milk on the counter. It was a startle reflex only. He knew it was me. If it hadn't been me, whoever had just walked into the room would likely have been well ventilated.

Breathing hard, he shook his head and looked me up and down.

"Sorry," I apologized quietly.

"You almost got shot."

I knew better.

"What the hell, Nik?" He was still shaking his head. "You trying to give me a heart attack?"

"I was merely joining you for a late breakfast."

"No, you were merely shocking the crap out of me." He sucked in a huge breath, bristling with annoyance and probably a bit of embarrassment that he'd been caught off guard. Kicking a chair back from the table, he said, "Sit down."

Not in the habit of being bossed by my brother, I did what he said anyway. I was a little steadier on my feet, but sitting down wasn't a bad idea. Settling in the chair, I met Cal's evaluating stare.

"You're up early," I said, trying to shift his attention from me while also hoping to determine how he was doing.

"And you're up late," he countered, arms folded across his chest. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

He raised an eyebrow.

There was no point in lying, so I added, "I do not feel one hundred percent."

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." He shook his head and turned away from me. When he turned around again, it was to hand me the thermometer.

"Does that even have batteries?" I asked, taking the device. The only reason we even had one was because it had come with one of the many first aid kits we'd amassed over the years. I didn't think we'd ever used it.

"Yes. I checked. Put it in your mouth before I find a different place to shove it."

I smiled a little at his terrible bedside manner and didn't bother trying to argue. Cal stared at me the entire time and snatched the thermometer from me the instant it beeped.

"102." Cal's expression darkened as he looked up from the thermometer. "You're sick."

"I thought we already knew that."

He didn't comment, just dropped a couple pills in front of me followed by a glass of water. I took the pills while he finished mixing up whatever was in the other glass.

"You want anything more than your weed water?" he asked, setting the second glass on the table.

"For now, I'm good, thank you. Did you eat?"

A distracted wave of his hand drew my attention to the bowl of leftover cereal on the counter.

Cal slouched into the chair across from me. "You get any sleep?"

"More sleep than you did, it appears."

"Have you ever slept past seven am?" Cal rested his chin in his hand. "Like in your entire life?"

"Not that I recall," I answered honestly.

"Creeped me out all night."

"You were watching me sleep?" I raised an eyebrow.

A faint blush colored his pale skin and he looked away.

Tempting as it was to further embarrass or annoy him, I refrained. Even without him admitting it aloud, I knew he'd checked on me many times during the night. Having spent innumerable nights sitting at his side or watching silently from the doorway of his room, I fully understood the fear that would have kept him up. There was no point asking if he'd gotten any sleep; the exhaustion was plain as the nose on my face. Which, if Cal were to be consulted on the subject, was all too plain.

After taking a sip of my 'weed water', I said, "I should call Robin. Ask him about the creature."

"Already did."

"It did not go well?" The question was unnecessary. Cal's tone said it all. "He was uncooperative?"

"He was busy." Cal muttered, wrinkling his nose.

"Ah."

I did not want nor did I require clarification on what Robin had been busy doing. The only clarification needed was who he'd been doing, and that was a clarification I most definitely did not want.

"He said he'd call back later."

"Very well." I finished my breakfast. "There are other things we can do to occupy ourselves while we wait."

Cal snorted. "The only thing you're occupying yourself with, Cyrano, is getting your ass back to bed."

"I will not be spending the entire day in bed. I've already lost the entire morning."

"No great loss." Cal yawned dramatically. He waved the thermometer in front of my face. "You. Are. Sick."

"I have a mild fever." And body aches, a sore throat, disturbing weakness and tingling in my extremities. "Nothing worth mentioning."

"Yes. A mild fever that could get worse at any point. It's 102, Nik. I know you're superhuman and all, but that's not something to play around with."

"Very well. I'll take it easy." I patted his shoulder. "Perhaps you should take a nap, though. You're rather cranky."

He gave me his favorite finger and turned away. "I'm trying Robin again."

I didn't argue with him, merely took advantage of him turning away. Pushing myself to my feet, I made my way unsteadily into what counted as our living room and make-shift dojo. My typical schedule was completely destroyed, but I needed some kind of normality.

Working through a few slow katas while listening to my brother's animated conversation with Robin wasn't exactly relaxing. I was also finding it more difficult than it should have been to stay on my feet. When the options became sit down or fall down, I opted for the former. Easing myself down onto the mat, I folded my legs beneath me and pressed my hands against the mat.

Closing my eyes, I controlled my breath and fought the spinning sensation. Meditation and focus had served me well my entire life and I hoped right now would be no exception. If I was going to convince my brother I was fine, I had to start getting fine.

tbc...

Thanks so much for reading! Take care!