Suddenly Adrian reached over and straightened the comforter by her leg. She jerked involuntarily, gaping over at him.

"I'm sorry…. It was wrinkled…." he managed to utter, as he flattened it down.

A laugh of relief came up in her throat, possessing her to giggle uncontrollably for a few minutes. Wow, had she misread that moment...

Adrian glanced at the television set, supposing it was something that she had seen on television that had caused her to start laughing. It was CNN. Probably not.

He started to chuckle quietly as well, reveling in her mood change. It still was unknown why she had begun laughing in the first place, but all that mattered was that she could still be happy when she was with him.

After Sharona's laughing fit ended, he handed her the remote control.

"What was that all about?" he said, chuckling a bit himself.

"My laughing? Something just struck me funny, is all," she replied, taking the remote from him, the tips of her fingers brushing against his own. He pulled back reflexively, flashing her a look of shame.

It was the old Adrian after all, she saw clearly. The relief on her face was obvious. He hadn't become some suave Valentino, set on seducing her into bed. Yes, that was the kind of man that she had always been attracted to, but Adrian… well, this absence had caused her to forget some of the more negative aspects of forming some kind of further relationship with him. Even so, it now came flooding back to her that (1) she was married, (2) he was still married—in his heart, at least, (3) he didn't like touching, and (4) he was unpredictable—wait, that wasn't such a bad thing. The new number four would have to be that he was obsessed with everything but her. And that bothered her.

She settled on "I Love Lucy," which Adrian reminisced as something he and Trudy used to watch as they lie in bed. It's just a coincidence. It's the only thing on right now, he told himself. I wonder what made her start laughing, he recalled. Was it something I did?

After watching several minutes of Sharona's uncomfortable fidgeting against the wooden headboard, Adrian fetched a horde of throw pillows to prop up behind them, and they settled into the show. It wasn't long, however, until Sharona fell asleep. Just like that. On his bed. Her upper body slipping down, very slowly down, until she was going to be lying flat—flat on his bed. Next to him.

He watched her as she slept, noticing her emotionless expression, the remnants of smeared eyeshadow still on her eyelids, the beginnings of a wrinkle on her forehead. She was imperfect, the smeared remnant of makeup on her face, the age appearing on her face, and her hair all awry from the pillows, and she was lying unevenly, with one hand behind her head and one to her side. Even so, she still looked beautiful—wait, what was he thinking! It had been so uncomfortable in the hospital, being eyed up by her, and now he was doing it to her while she slept! He had always enjoyed her personality, her sense of humor, and now he was finding himself attracted to her. But, it wasn't possible to be attracted to anyone but Trudy…. Well, at least Sharona couldn't see him…. He decided to fixate on her imperfections to get his mind off of his… other thoughts.

Waiting would be the best thing. It had only been twenty minutes since she came into the room; maybe she'd wake back up and go back out to the couch. But—he really didn't want her to leave—but he did want her to leave—to the couch, that is. But she looked so comfortable, sleeping there, next to him….

He decided to watch the remainder of the episode. This was one of his favorite episodes, anyway, where Lucy and Ethel had to eat chocolate right off the conveyor belt, and stuff it down their aprons. How revolting that sounded now, how… unsanitary and dirty it all seemed. All those… germs on the conveyor belt…. Damn it, he couldn't enjoy anything anymore, even the most lighthearted and harmless of all things.

His gaze wandered around the room. How was she managing to sleep with the bright lamp on his nightstand throwing light throughout the room? He'd turn it off for now. It seemed inconceivable and highly nonsensical that any person could fall asleep in a well-lit room, and he had to put that thought out of his mind. Things had to make sense to him, if he could help it. Sleep was only supposed to happen in the dark. Too many thoughts were floating around in his head right now. He clapped his hands quietly, and the lamp turned off.

It wasn't long after the darkness of the room enveloped Adrian himself in sleep. The TV remained on throughout the night, voices soft in the background. Neither Sharona nor Adrian awoke all night, sleeping soundly in their practically horizontal positions on top of the comforter.

The next morning, Adrian awoke to find himself face to face with Sharona. Her head was slightly propped up by pillows, as was his, but other than that, they were lying flat on his bed together. And, to compound it all, he had draped an arm over her! He almost jerked and let out a yell, but somehow controlled his physical responses to this—predicament. Oh God, how had she gotten into his room? Had they done anything? When did he put his arm there? The initial panic dissipated quickly as he realized—she had wanted to watch television last night, and she had fallen asleep first. He looked at the television set. The TV Land channel was still on, though the volume was almost low enough to be inaudible. He must have fallen asleep as well. Very slowly, he lifted his arm off of the sleeping nurse, watching her eyes carefully to avoid awakening her.

He slid out of bed quietly, walked over to the television and turned it off, and headed out into the hallway. Okay, I need to do my morning routine, whether Sharona's here or not. Just because someone's here doesn't mean I can change what I do every single day. I wonder if she knew I had my arm across her….

He boiled some water in a tea kettle and brushed his teeth with the hot water, then flossed his teeth and took a shower. It was great to be healthy again; he couldn't remember the last time he felt so… alive…. Apparently he had slept like a log, for he felt fully energized. He changed into a white t-shirt and lounge pants, his usual outfit after his shower, noting their fresh smell. Sharona wasn't lying when she said she'd done the laundry….

However, when he left the bathroom, he noticed that Sharona had still not awoken. It was only 9 am but then again, he had always had her come over to his place early to pick him up for an appointment or a case, and she was rarely late. Maybe she had gotten used to a different schedule back in Jersey….

He cooked a delicious breakfast of pancakes, sausage, and scrambled eggs, hoping the aroma would wake her up. Maybe it'd convince her that he wasn't as pitiful as first thought, so she could stay, knowing she didn't need to tend to his every whim.

Her cell phone rang, and she stirred in her sleep, opening it on the third ring. Apparently she had had the phone on her person when she had come into his bedroom last night. He heard the mattress squeak as she slid out of bed, and paced back and forth in the room with the phone to her ear.

"What? Oh my God…. No, Benjy, Grandma's gonna be okay. Have you seen her yet today?"

Sharona's voice was panicky and frightened. Adrian stood by the kitchen island, watching her nervously as she spoke to her son.

"Okay, when you do head over, could you call me and update me on how she's doin'?" A pause, as her son responded.

"Benjy, don't be silly, it could be much worse. It takes time to regain the ability to—okay, then, please call me after you see her. I love you; be careful."

Sharona hung up the phone and looked at Adrian. "I—don't believe it," she said. "Mom—my mom, sh-she can't talk." She stood up. "Oh, God, this is all my fault! I coulda—" The blonde shook her head, biting her lower lip.

"Oh, no, not now…." She quickly covered her mouth and dashed for Adrian's bathroom, leaving him standing in the hallway watching her race for his personal bathroom.

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

Oh, God, she's using my bathroom… Wait? What was that sound? He began to walk towards the now-closed bathroom door. It sounded like gag… oh, God, NO!

He covered his ears and immediately fled from in front of the door, heading for his bedroom and shutting the door behind him. Feeling nauseated himself now, he grabbed the remote and switched on the television, turning it up to a very loud volume. Even so, he continued to cover his ears and hummed to drown out whatever sound could still be heard over the TV Land actors.

Emetrophobia was one of his lesser-known phobias because the… process didn't occur very often, but when it did it made him feel sick to his stomach as well. He was deathly afraid of the sound, and the image, and the smell, and the feeling of it. Come to think of it, he hadn't thrown up—oh, what a revolting word—for probably eight years, since after Trudy died. It had been so terrible, one of the worst things one could ever do…. How he had lived through that horrific experience was beyond him….

He jammed his fingers into his ears until he could hear ringing, and quickly released the hold to pull his shirt over his mouth and nose. No use getting those germs into his system. He could almost sense the tiny little particles of… well, you know—floating around in the air. Now the smell of the breakfast he had so painstakingly prepared made him nauseated, and so he inhaled through his mouth, blocking any sensation of smell from his nose. God, this is horrible…. Her, doing that…. In my bathroom, of all places…. It'll never be clean again….

Panic rose in his throat, along with something else, and he reflexively swallowed it back down. What am I supposed to do? I can't help her, I just can't. She's an adult; she can handle it. Well, so am I though. But—I'll get sick if I even take a step out there. I can't do it. I can't even help her…. I can't…. I can't do anything for her! I can't comfort her, I can't support her, and I can't assist her….

He rocked back and forth on his bed with eyes shut, as "Three's Company" blared in the background. This continued for probably fifteen minutes, until he heard another sound, one of an alarm. What was wrong now? He was frozen with fear. What if she had emerged from the bathroom? What if she hadn't? His mind was frazzled, utterly useless in its paralysis. It soon sunk in that he was of no practical use to her, and amidst all of it, his bathroom was being violated….

The bedroom door flew open and Sharona burst in, holding a bucket in one hand and looking quite flustered. The sudden appearance of the sick woman caused him to practically jump out of his skin. She was panicked and panting as she tried to speak.

Yes, it's another cliffhanger! I promise it's not too profound though! Please review!