Chapter 2

"You should get some sleep, Mel," Cole suggested gently as she handed him a cup of tea. "You are not well yet either and need to rest."

"I had a long nap today. I'll be fine," she assured him, sitting down next to him and fussing over his blankets for a few minutes. "Besides, I wouldn't feel right leaving you out here all alone…"

"Mel, you must rest," he protested softly.

"Cole," she sighed, shaking her head. "I can't leave you all alone when you're sick."

"You must rest," he repeated, gently but firmly.

"I can rest out here and still keep an eye on you."

He nodded slowly, lifting up the blankets. Smiling, Mel sidled under the blankets next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Get some rest, Cole," she suggested quietly as he slid his arms around her.

"I will, Mel. Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah, Cole. I'm great," she answered honestly. She missed the heat that traditionally poured off of his body, but the strong arms around her felt as wonderful as they always felt. "You comfortable, Cole?"

"Yes, Mel. I like holding you like this. It makes me feel the same way as taking care of you."

"Really? And how's that?"

"Like I'm married again."

"Oh," she whispered, her eyes widening slightly. Panic began to pervade her awareness at the realization that the emotional intimacy she felt with him was a shared one, which could lead to very real complications given how closely they had been forced to cooperate lately.

"Get some rest, Mel," he directed gently, frowning faintly at her slight loss of composure.

"Right," she agreed, nodding. "You, too."

"Okay, Mel," he agreed, easily. "Sleep well."

"Okay. Get some rest."

"I will, Mel," he promised with a yawn.

"Don't think I've ever heard you do that before," she noted with a yawn of her own. She wanted to stay up with him for a little longer, but sitting like this, curled up in his arms, with his arms around hers as well, was just too relaxing. She was already falling asleep. "Night, Cole."

"Night, Mel. Sleep well. Have sweet dreams."

"Don't see how I could fail to, Cole," she confessed in a mumble as she drifted off.

***

Mel experienced a moment's disorientation as she woke up, trying to figure out why she was half-sitting up and in someone's arms. She kept her eyes closed, thinking. Right, Cole…

"Morning, Cole," she greeted him lazily. She opened her eyes when there was no response but a soft snore. "Cole?" she asked, frowning up at him. "Hey, Cole?"

He came awake slowly, yawning and looking around in obvious disorientation.

"Cole, are you okay?" she asked, worried.

"Mmm." He nodded groggily, yawning again. "Sorry, Mel. Just not used to… waking up."

"I guess not. I thought you didn't sleep?" Aware that she was still in his arms, she straightened slowly, reluctant to leave his embrace but not entirely comfortable in it either.

"Not often, Mel. Usually meditation alone is adequate, but illness can weaken my body substantially. Then I sometimes require actual sleep."

"Oh. Are you okay?"

"I'm tired, Mel, and weak, but okay, I think."

"Good." She smiled and nodded. "Why don't you take a nap later?"

"Okay, Mel," he agreed, reaching up to stroke her throat. He stopped dead, frowning.

"Cole? What's wrong?" she asked, reaching up and touching his cheek. Alarmingly, it had gone from clammy to cold. "Are you okay?" she demanded.

"Don't think so, Mel." He shook his head slowly, turning his hand over for her inspection.

"Oh, my God," she whispered, staring at the cluster of three tiny spots on the back of his hand. Three tiny, glowing spots. "What the hell?"

"I don't know, Mel. Nothing like this has ever happened in this body before."

"Oh, my God," she repeated, wide eyes growing wider as comprehension began to dawn. It could not be. Could it? "Do they itch?" At his nod, she let out a short bark of anxious laughter. "Chickenpox, Cole. You have the chickenpox!"

"The illness Rebecca has?" he asked, frowning.

"I think so." She nodded. "No, it couldn't be," she reversed herself immediately. "It's been like three days since you were exposed. Normally it takes seven or more days to get sick."

"For the infection to incubate?"

"Right."

"Infections incubate far more quickly in Cirronians, Mel," he told her, frowning down at his hand. "We have very strong immune systems. Viruses and other pathogens don't make it past our defenses often, but when they do, we begin manifesting symptoms very quickly because of our accelerated metabolisms."

"Then I guess it could be that. Though I can't say I've ever seen chickenpox glow before…"

"Maybe it has to do with my Cirronian physiology?" he ventured hesitantly.

"Guess it could. Here, let me see," she directed, taking his hand in hers and lightly running her fingers over the spots. "I… don't know, Cole. These are bumps, but they're not... oozing, I guess. Normally with chickenpox a child gets these little sores and there's a discharge…"

"Lesions would heal themselves quickly on a Cirronian, Mel, the way injuries do."

She frowned, taking a moment to consider his words. "So you think you're skipping straight to the scar phase?"

"Maybe, Mel, but… they glow."

"I'd noticed! God, I hope this isn't permanent," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Scars also fade quickly on me, Mel," he assured her. "But I still don't know why these would glow…"

"For the same reason that your temperature goes down instead of up when you get sick, I guess." She shrugged. "Who knows how a human germ is going to affect a Cirronian?"

"Not well, obviously." He frowned down at his hand, scratching it.

"You can't scratch them," Mel told him, grabbing his hand. "It's bad for you, my grandmother told me so when I had chickenpox."

"But they itch!"

"Of course they itch, Cole. They're chickenpox. Or Cirronian-pox or something." She rolled her eyes, rising. Why would they itch if they were scars, she wondered. Maybe they were closer to scabs. Not that it much mattered in the present circumstances. "Come on, Cole. I have some calamine lotion in the bathroom."

"Calamine lotion, Mel?" he repeated.

"It helps with itchiness," she explained as he followed her into the bathroom. She quickly located the small pink bottle, left over from last summer's brush with poison ivy, and a bag of cotton balls. "Here, give me your hand."

Cole obediently extended his hand, watching curiously as Mel poured a little of the thick, pink liquid onto the cotton swab. She gently took his hand in one of her own, earning a warm smile from him, but he hissed in protest at the first touch of the lotion.

"Cold, Mel!" he protested, pulling his hand away.

"I know. And I know that Cirronians hate the cold. But it will help the itching." She waited for him to nod and offer up his hand again, then quickly dabbed a generous helping of the lotion on the glowing spots. "There. All done. Better?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes, Mel. They don't itch so badly any more," he said, looking down at his hand. "And you can no longer tell that they glow."

Mel glanced down at his hand. Sure enough, with the pink fluid hardening over the spots, she could no longer detect the faint glow, especially in the well-lit bathroom.

"Well, that's something at least." She nodded and steered him back into the living room, sitting him down and covering him again. "I'm going to go to the store, Cole," she told him.

"But Mel, you must rest," he protested.

"I know, Cole, but there are things we need, starting with more calamine lotion. There's hardly any left. And we're out of ice-cream, and I don't think we have any chicken or tomato soup."

"We hardly ever eat soup, though, Mel."

"Soup is... it's sick people food, Cole. Your stomach may not be up to taking much more. Besides, I think we need more teabags, too, and I'm out of aspirin again..."

He nodded slowly. "Okay, Mel. Let me get changed and I'll come with you."

Cole had been following Mel on every shopping trip she had taken since she had gotten back from the hospital, worried that she might be too weak to finish the trip and drive home, or that she might have a dizzy-spell behind the wheel or in the store. Sensing that it made her uncomfortable, he was slightly less physically demonstrative in public than he had been with her in private since her illness, not touching her nearly as much as he did when they were alone together, but he was no less attentive to her needs and no less overt in his concern over her well-being.

She had been on the receiving end of more than one envious look over the gorgeous man following her around like an adoring puppy, fetching and carrying in the grocery store or the mall. He carried all of her bags, got things down from the high shelves, inquired after her state of health, and generally behaved more like an attentive husband than a close friend. Not that Mel was complaining. It was a hard thing to complain about. Nallia had been a lucky woman.

"Maybe you should rest, Cole?" she suggested gently.

"You should not go alone, Mel," Cole told her firmly, his expression full of tender concern. "You still are very weak and still sometimes become dizzy. Someone should be with you. It won't be for long and I am less weak now that I have slept. I can come."

Mel hesitated, knowing that Cole would probably not take no for an answer, no matter how sick he was. Especially not after that damned fainting spell last week. It would be ten minutes in the grocery store, tops, and she did not think that it would do too much harm to him. He was normally so healthy, after all. And since the calamine lotion effectively covered the glowing spots on his hand, there was no harm in him being seen in public.

"Yeah, guess it can't hurt anything," she decided. "It'll just be a short trip."

***

Twenty minutes later, glancing from the label of a soup-can to Cole to ask him which kind he preferred, Mel was regretting her words. Her eyes widening, an expletive that she would never have uttered aloud found its way into her consciousness and repeated itself no fewer than ten times as she stared at the Cirronian. He had several glowing spots on his neck, peeking out from under his collar. Even in the store's bright fluorescent track-lighting, they were fairly conspicuous.

"Cole," she whispered, making a beckoning gesturing with one finger and reaching into her purse.

"What's wrong, Mel?" he asked, frowning at the look on her face.

"Spots," she murmured, finding the foundation in her purse and opening the bottle. The expletive continued to repeat itself in her mind. "Come here. We can not let you be seen like this."

"What is that?" he asked as she poured a few drops of flesh-toned liquid onto her fingertip and began dabbing it against his neck. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.

"Foundation," she murmured, dabbing more on. "It covers… blemishes. I don't think this is exactly what the people at Revlon had in mind, but it looks like it's working. We just need to get through the checkout and we'll be fine."

He nodded, opening his eyes as she put the bottle away. "Then we can go home where it's warm?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, Cole. Then we can go home where it's warm." She dropped several cans of soup into the cart, took a quick inventory of its contents, and nodded to herself. "Yeah, let's check out."

Cole nodded and obediently followed Mel to the checkout, resisting the urge to scratch his arm. He tried to concentrate on moving the groceries out of the basket instead. Having accomplished that, he turned his attention to the shelf of candy near the register.

"May I have a candy bar, Mel?" he asked hopefully. "Please?"

Chuckling and nodding, Mel grabbed several of each of his favorites, dumping them with the other groceries. The cashier's eyes widened faintly at the twenty-plus candy bars abruptly added to the contents of the conveyor-belt, but she did not comment as she rang them up. Until Mel shrugged and grabbed another double-handful.

This time, the cashier had to comment. "That's a lot of chocolate…"

"He's a little bit of a carbohydrate addict," Mel said with a shrug.

Leafing through a copy of US News, Cole seemed oblivious to them both. Mel was sure when he reached to put it back on the rack that he had probably already finished it. Smiling and shaking her head, she plucked it from his hand and added it to the groceries. The amount of time he had spent on it indicated some interesting articles. Cole continued looking absently around the checkout counter, zeroing in on a magazine in the row of tabloids and immediately picking it up.

Mel frowned faintly. She had not known that Cole liked tabloids. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in which tabloid Cole had grabbed. The Weekly World News. She chuckled and shook her head as she saw the headline that had most likely caught the Cirronian's eye: Alien Man Living With Human Woman: a Match Made in the Heavens.

"Put it down, Cole," she suggested, still laughing.

"But, Mel," he began in a voice of deep concern.

"It's not true, Cole," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"But it's a newspaper!" he protested, staring down at it.

"It's a tabloid, Cole. Even the best of those tend to be… questionable. And that one is definitely up there. It's…"

"Not true?"

She smiled gently and shook her head. "Remember that science fiction book you read a few weeks ago? It's kind of like that."

"Oh." He nodded and immediately returned the magazine to the rack, his expression disinterested.

Mel smiled and returned her attention to the cashier who was just ringing up the last few items. She kept her face fixed in a polite smile that still managed to discourage questions as she swiped her credit card through the machine and signed her receipt. When she had finished, Cole had already transferred the bagged groceries back into the cart.

"Come on, Mel," he directed gently. "We should go now. You look tired. You must rest."

Mel smiled and nodded, falling into step next to him as he pushed the cart out to the car. It was not lost on her that she received more than one envious look on the way there.

***

"Do they still itch?" Mel asked as they unpacked their groceries.

"Yes, Mel." Cole nodded faintly, frowning. "A lot."

"Okay. Why don't you go take a shower, see if that helps at all, then we'll get some more calamine lotion on you if you need it. I got oatmeal, too."

"I like Oatmeal, Mel." He smiled brightly. "Especially with maple syrup. But… I thought we still had oatmeal?"

"We do. This is different. We'll pour it in your bathwater tonight to help with the itching."

"Oh. Yes, Mel."

Smiling at his confused expression, she suggested, "Why don't you go take that shower now?"

Cole nodded and obediently walked to the bathroom. Mel finished unpacking the groceries and then sank gratefully onto the couch with her copy of US News. When she heard the shower stop, she grabbed a bottle of calamine lotion, one of several that she had gotten, and walked down the hall to the bathroom.

"Hey, Cole!" she called through the door. "Still itchy?"

"Very itchy, Mel. In many more places…"

"Well, I've got the calamine lotion here. Why don't you wrap a towel around yourself and I'll put it on for you."

"Thank you, Mel." He opened the door, wrapped in a towel.

And peppered with hundreds of glowing spots.

"Oh, God," Mel whispered, shaking her head and regarding his pox-covered left arm and shoulder, chest, and neck. "Here, turn around," she ordered, wishing she had not when he did so, revealing more spots on his back than there had been on his chest. "Oh, God," she repeated, walking into the bathroom and finding the cotton-swabs again. "How the hell is it spreading so fast?" she demanded, starting with the spots on the small of his back and working her way up. "This should not be happening so fast…"

"Cirronian metabolism allows viruses to replicate rapidly, Mel," he reminded her. "Just as one starts showing symptoms sooner, those symptoms progress more aggressively. It is why viruses are so dangerous to us but, as a benefit, we are seldom sick for as long as a member of another species would be. How much farther will this spread?"

Mel shook her head. "At this rate, it'll probably have covered your entire body by suppertime."

"You're kidding?" he whispered, staring over his shoulder at her. "But, Mel, this is so unpleasant!"

"I know, Cole. And I'm sorry. The lotion should be helping, and there's the oatmeal bath to try. I guess I can call a pharmacist and see what else he recommends."

"The lotion helps a little, Mel," he admitted. "But it takes so long to put on…"

"Yeah, it really does, doesn't it?" Mel frowned down at the little cotton-swab in her hand, up at Cole's massive bulk, then shrugged and tossed the swab into the trashcan. She poured half the bottle into one cupped hand. "Let's try this," she said. "Little cold," she added, smearing the lotion on his back.

Cole gasped quietly at the feel of the cold liquid, but he could not complain about the way Mel's hands felt smearing it on. In fact, that felt absolutely wonderful. He closed his eyes and relaxed under her care, savoring the sensations Mel was creating. Suddenly, even the chills tearing through his frame were a pleasant sensation, transformed by this electric contact.

Mel smiled as she felt his muscles relaxing. "That better?" she asked gently.

"Feels good, Mel," he agreed quietly.

At those words, Mel found herself having a déjà vu moment to the time she had taught him to bathe. Especially when she moved around in front of him to slather the lotion over his chest as well.

"Uh, yeah… well, uh… we'll just get this finished and then you can… get dressed and… ice-cream! We'll get you a bowl of ice-cream!" she babbled, finishing quickly and stepping to the sink to wash her hands. She stared down at her hands rather than look up and risk seeing Cole in the mirror. Feeling Cole moving to stand behind her, she closed her eyes as well. "You can get dressed just as soon as that dries," she assured him quietly. "I'll go get that ice-cream scooped up."

"Okay, Mel." He nodded faintly, frowning after her as she fled. His chest and back missed the feel of her hands, and his heart missed her presence. Sighing deeply, he bent to retrieve his clothes.