I got the idea for this last night when I was in bed. When I tried to write it this morning, it was eluding me. After venting about how frustrating it was to get ideas when I can't write, and then when I can for them to disappear, I was able to recapture this. I think, of all the bunnies here, it (along with Moonshine) may be the one I go back to and complete.

M7 M7 M7 M7 M7 M7 M7

A low rumble of thunder rolled in the distance as Ezra settled himself back in bed again. It was odd knowing he wasn't the only one in his condo tonight and each time he'd gotten out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, he'd been highly conscious of Josiah sleeping in his guestroom and hoped he wasn't disturbing him. At least, he thought, the ongoing storm probably supplied some cover for his nocturnal wanderings.

He'd always been reluctant to let others into his home. He spent so much time wearing different masks and personas, that it was the one place he was able to just be himself. Here, he didn't have to pretend to be Eric Swanson, an arms buyer; he didn't have to be Samuel Epps, an illegal distiller; he didn't have to be Agent Standish, best undercover agent the ATF had; he didn't have to be Maude Standish's son; he didn't have to be anyone. He could simply be.

He could trade in the fashionable suits everyone expected and, instead, wear old, broken-in sweatpants that were butter soft with a beat-up old MIT t-shirt that just may have dated from his time at the venerable institution earning his MBA. He could relax on the couch, indulge in a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a cold glass of milk while watching I Love Lucy reruns instead of sitting in a fine dining establishment eating filet mignon, drinking expensive bottles of wine, then heading out to the theater as most people expected him to do. It was here in his home that he felt free to sing along with the radio and to just be the man that he was when no one was around.

Initially, when he'd joined Team Seven, he was loathed to let anyone into his home. It was his sanctum sanctorum. In his mind, keeping people out of it meant he was able to preserve it as his refuge from the world. Gradually, he'd begun to let his teammates...his friends in. He'd host the occasional poker game, or they'd gather round his TV to watch whatever game was on TV. It would only be for a few hours, though, and then he'd once again be alone in his home, able to be whatever man he wanted to be.

When Josiah had mentioned there was a plumbing problem in his building and that he'd be staying in a motel for a few days since there was no water, he'd only hesitated for a moment before offering his guest room. The others had all looked at him in surprise. Even though he'd never said anything, they all knew how he valued his time at home alone to decompress from the rigors of the day. Josiah was his friend, though, and he needed help. Perhaps he might have sat quietly and not made the offer when he'd first come to Denver, but as time had passed Josiah and the others and had become more than just teammates...they were friends, and he wasn't going to leave a friend in a lurch. He'd have to wear the mask of host while in his home, but now knew he could trust his friends enough to also let that other man out...the one they so rarely saw.

As lightening flashed outside his window and another rumble of thunder started, he heard a soft knocking on his bedroom door. Disappointed, he realized Josiah must have heard him. For a moment he contemplated pretending he didn't hear the knock...that he was sleeping, but his "host mask" wouldn't allow him to. "Come in," he called out just loud enough to carry out to the man in the hallway.

The door pushed open, and Josiah took a step into the bedroom. As he did, Ezra sat up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp. "Something wrong?" he asked.

Josiah took a few more steps into the room and smiled slightly. "I was just going to ask you that. I heard you get up a few times."

Ezra grimaced with the knowledge that Josiah had heard him. He lightly rubbed a hand over his abdomen. "It's nothing...just a touch of indigestion. Nothing to worry about." He tried to smile at his friend but was afraid what he managed was more of a grimace. "I'm sure I'll be right as rain in the morning."

"Hmmm..." Josiah murmured. "You hardly ate anything at dinner to have indigestion. You're sure it's not that stomach flu that's going around? It's pretty nasty."

"I'm quite," Ezra began to say before cupping his hand over his mouth. He quickly threw off the covers, dodged around Josiah, and ran to the bathroom. He made it just in time although considering this was the fourth time his stomach had sent him running, there was precious little to bring up. Despite that, he was still wracked with dry heaves until his body decided to stop trying to eject his stomach. When he felt a hand in the middle of his back, he startled.

"Sorry," Josiah apologized as he knelt behind Ezra and rubbed his back. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Ezra shook his head slightly, not sure if he was trying to deny that Josiah had startled him or to deny his presence. He was acutely embarrassed that the other man had witnessed this most recent episode of vomiting. "Please. Don't worry yourself," he gasped out. "Go back to be..." Before he could finish the sentence, he was once again leaning over the toilet bowl as his body tried to rid itself of something that wasn't there.

"Easy. Easy." Josiah said softly as he kept rubbing Ezra's back. When the dry heaves finally ended, he pulled the ill man back to lean against him, reached around him, and flushed away the evidence of his sickness. "Just relax. Catch your breath." His voice was a quiet rumble in Ezra's ear.

As much as he wanted to pull away and give the appearance of being fine, the last couple of hours of illness has sapped Ezra of energy. Just for a moment, he thought, it may be nice to just let someone else's strength support him. Besides, it was chilly in the bathroom and the warmth from leaning against Josiah felt good. "I apologize. Just give me a moment."

"Take your time. No one's in hurry," Josiah said comfortingly. He rubbed one hand up and down Ezra's right arm that was pebbled with goosebumps. He quickly pressed his other hand to his forehead. "You feel a bit feverish. Still think it's indigestion?"

"Perhaps not," Ezra conceded. He looked in the direction of vanity and pointed to the disposable cups he kept on the corner. "Would you mind getting me some water. I'd like to rinse this horrid taste from my mouth."

"Sure." Josiah quickly filled one of the cups and then was back in place supporting his friend figuratively and literally. "Just small sips," he advised as he handed the filled cup.

After rinsing out his mouth, Ezra took Josiah's advise and sipped at the rest of the water in the cup until it was empty. He allowed himself a few more seconds to lean into the comforting warmth his friend provided before making a move to stand up. When he did, Josiah kept a hand on him in support as he flipped the lid down on the toilet, then guided Ezra to sit there. "Just sit for a second and then I'll help you back to bed."

Again, Ezra tried for a smile. This time, although it was a wan copy of his usual grin, he managed it instead of a grimace. "I'm sure you didn't envision playing nursemaid in the wee hours of the night when you accepted my offer. I do apologize."

Josiah crouched down so he could be on eye level with Ezra. "That's the second time you've apologized, son. Unless this is something you had planned, I don't think there's any reason to keep saying you're sorry. And I'm not glad that you're feeling poorly, but I'm glad that I'm since you are. You should have someone to look after you when you're not feeling so great." When Ezra looked down and away, Josiah gently tilted his face back up with a crooked finger below his chin. "Hey. It's what friends do, Ezra."

Again, a wan smile flitted briefly over Ezra's face. "It's been so long since I've had anyone I could really trust and depend on," he said in a sudden bout of honesty that he was sure was brought on by the fever. "Sometimes I forget."

"I guess it's high time someone remind you of it."