'Marco,' she cried, rushing across the park to reach him no longer restrained by the need for stealth. 'Marco, what happened?' Receiving no answer she knelt beside him feeling his forehead which burned her hand, his pulse rapid and light. An overwhelming urge to cry overtook her which she pushed aside for later. Right now her best friend lay unconscious before her, depending on her to save his life. He failed to respond to her frantic whispers. Tough by nature, she took his arms, pulling him to his feet, struggling to wrap his arms round her shoulders. Her shoes sank into the snow as she pulled him over the park to her car. She was forced to lay him on the ground as she hunted for her keys, pulling him inside. He failed to regain consciousness as she strapped him in, allowing her tears out. Under the light of the car he looked terrible, face flushed and hollow, each breath an obvious struggle. She watched him in silence, wondering where to take him. He was obviously extremely sick and needed a warm bed and medicine. A sudden thought hit her and she started the car, driving rapidly to a block of apartments. Calling his name she unbuckled him, pulling him from the car and over to the elevator.

'Hey Miguel,' she began, hugging her brother as he opened the door to smile at her. 'You got to help me.'

'Ah sis,' he drawled, eyeing her in amusement. 'What is it this time? A lost kitten, an injured dog or a bird with a broken wing? This place got a strict rule of no pets under any circumstances…'

'Will you cut it out,' she snapped, pushing him aside. 'I got a friend…'

Miguel eyed her doubtfully. 'So where do I fit into this?' He was going to agree to whatever his younger sister decided, just as he always had, but he refused to give up his moment of questioning her.

'He needs someplace to stay, just for a coupla nights,' Rita told him. 'Please, Miguel.'

'Well now, that might be a problem. I got a friend coming who planned on using my spare room…'

'I'll go get him,' Rita interrupted, turning away. Intrigued her brother followed her into the hall, stopping himself in time before he tripped over the body of a young man at her feet. 'Will you help me get him inside?'

He did as she asked, carrying his uninvited guest over to the couch. 'He looks sick,' he remarked, eyeing him dubiously. 'Shouldn't you rather take him to a hospital?'

'I don't think he can afford that,' she replied, pulling off his jacket. 'I'll call him a doctor here and get the medicines he prescribes, but he should have a bath first. Help me undress him.'

'Rita,' he began, giving up in defeat. 'Okay. I'll do it. You start the bath.'

Together they dragged Marco over to the bathroom and lowered him into the bath, worried he failed to show any response to the water. They rubbed soap liberally over him and rinsed him off, Rita leaving to spread clean sheets and towels on the guest rooms' bed. 'I'm done now, you can bring him,' she called and her brother struggled under his weight, depositing him on the bed. They rubbed him dry, Rita giving way to tears at the sight of his prominent ribcage.

'Hey, it's okay,' Miguel told her kindly, wondering who his visitor could be. It was obvious to him his starved looking guest meant a lot to his sister who wept openly in his arms. 'Shh, Rita, it's okay. Help me get him into bed. Has he got any pajamas?'

His question appeared to give her something to focus on. 'I'll get him something,' she sniffed, returning moments later with a warm cotton pair which he instantly recognized as his own. 'Don't even say it,' she warned as he opened his mouth to protest. 'He needs something.' He decided to allow it to go for the moment, relived she no longer wept. 'Bring me a thermometer, would you.'

They stared at the reading in silent disbelief, a twinge of worry rushing through Miguel. 'Rita, I'm calling a doctor. He needs one,' he decided, not wishing to have his unnamed guest die in his care. 'Why don't you get him some cold cloths or something in the meantime?' Frowning, he watched her sit beside him, brushing back his damp hair to kiss his forehead. 'You gonna tell me about it?' he asked.

'About what?' she asked, filled with concern for Marco.

'About you and Hobo here. I take it mom doesn't know about him.'

'Don't be an idiot,' she snapped. 'There's nothing to tell. I'm going to marry him.'

Miguel's eyes widened as he settled on an armchair. 'I got time. You're gonna tell me all about it, sis, or I'll call mom.'

Her tale was finished by the time the doctor arrived, bag in hand. They undressed Marco, hovering over the doctor anxiously until he ordered them from the room. Rita paced the living room desperately worried while Miguel settled back in his favorite armchair watching her. 'He'll be okay, sis,' he said finally feeling the need to comfort her despite lacking reassurance of his statement.

She sniffed, turning to him for protection the way she always had. 'You sure about that? He looks bad.'

'Of course I'm sure. It's the twentieth century, isn't it? People don't just die.'

The return of the doctor interrupted them. Grave eyes settled on Miguel who drew a deep breath. By the looks on the man's face he was about to hear bad news, and that meant he would be tied up with his sister the next few days offering what comfort he could. 'It's bad, right?'

'It's a wonder he's still with us,' the doctor began, eyeing Rita speculatively. 'Sit down, Rita. Get her some water,' he ordered Miguel, familiar with them since their childhood. He jumped to obey, handing her a glass which the doctor forced her to take. 'Feeling better?' He waited a few seconds till a little color returned to her cheeks. 'Okay, to your friend. He has pneumonia in both lungs, which appear to be filled up. He's unlikely to survive the night without treatment.'

The world span round her as she gasped in shock, shaking her head wildly. 'No. Miguel, please…'

'Calm down, sis.' Miguel slipped an arm round her, instinctively shielding her from the uglier side of life. 'We'll get him to a hospital.'

'He hasn't got any money,' she said. 'I'll pay…'

'Mom monitors your account,' he reminded her grimly. 'Looks like I'm paying. How long will he need to stay there?'

'At least five days,' the doctor told them. 'I'd take him right away, Miguel. And take her home,' he added, eyeing Rita in concern.

Miguel rolled his eyes as he collected his keys. So far his sister's need to collect all manner of injured animals had cost him nothing but sound hidings when his mother inevitably discovered their presence. Her guest was about to hit him in the pocket, and he had a sneaking suspicion money wasn't all he would be asked to donate. He held the unconscious figure while Rita slipped his coat over his pajamas and together they struggled down the stairs and into the garage.

Processing their forms appeared to take forever to Rita who watched anxiously as Marco lay on a bed, his breathing quieter. Eventually they were done and a doctor arrived, hooked him to an oxygen tank and placed an IV of antibiotics in his arm. They were shooed from the room as the fluid was drained from his lungs. Through the entire procedure he lay unmoving, eyes drawn tight, oblivious to her anxious face peering through the glass window.

She stretched the truth that night when she told the hospital staff she was his fiancée, but they believed her and allowed her to spend the night by his side in a comfortable armchair. A nurse brought her a blanket and she wrapped it round herself, curling her legs comfortably and fell asleep beside him determined never to allow him out of her sight again.

Marco came round two days later, his face slightly less drawn. Blinking in the brightness he took in his surroundings, the white walls and vinyl floor, the tubes attached to his left arm and the presence of Rita, who watched him with bated breath. 'Hey, sweetheart.'

He grinned at her, too weak to raise his head more than a few inches. 'Hey. What is this place? It's a hospital, right?'

She nodded reassuringly. 'Yeah. You had pneumonia. You're almost well enough to leave, though.'

Pneumonia. He stared at her soberly, no longer surprised he had felt so awful. Seems you were not a wimp after all, Almeida. There was a reason you couldn't think straight. And now you're in a hospital, almost ready to go. Go where? You still got no place. His eyes examined the room in more detail, noting that he was alone. Oh boy – this looks like an expensive place. Someone paid for your stay – Rita of course. You'll be paying her back for the rest of your life! 'How long was I here?' he asked, hating the weakness in his voice.

'Two days. You'll have to stay another three, but the worst is over.'

He shifted his free arm restlessly. 'Rita, be honest, okay?' She nodded, avoiding his gaze. 'How much is this costing?'

Her face flushed. 'You don't need to worry about that, Marco. Just get better,' she said.

'I do need to worry about it, querida. I won't be able to repay you right now…' He attempted to sit, the world spinning alarmingly round him.

Strong hands pushed him back. 'You're staying right here, Marco. Try leaving and I'll get security to chain you to that bed! I'm not kidding! You can't breathe alone yet. And don't worry about the money, it's a gift.'

'It's a gift I can't accept,' he insisted, heatedly. 'I said I wouldn't cost you anything and I meant it. It's not honest.. .'

'And you know so much about honesty!' she snapped, thoroughly riled up. 'I thought we were friends, Marco! I got you into a whole lot of trouble and you stuck by me. You lost your job and room because of me and you didn't let me know. I could've helped you.'

Avoiding her eyes he examined his blanket in silence, uncertain of his own illogic. 'Friendship goes both ways,' she continued, leaning over him and forcing him to acknowledge her presence. 'If you want my friendship, you gotta stop acting like a caveman and talk to me, tell me how I can help you. This is my country, after all.'

She's right, Almeida. She knows people here, she could have helped you find a job…He moved his free hand slowly, squeezing hers. 'Sorry, sweetheart. I guess I didn't see things that way. I didn't want to cause you any bother.'

'You'll never cause me bother,' she insisted, kissing him on the forehead to indicate he was forgiven. 'It's my fault that you're this sick. I'm sorry.' He wrapped his arm round her, shaking his head. 'Don't argue,' she continued before he had a chance to open his mouth. 'It is my fault. I found you a place to stay though, once you're well enough to leave.'

Marco chewed his lower lip in concentration. Silently he raised his eyes, questioning her.

'My brother's apartment. He's got a spare room so you won't be in the way,' she explained in a rush.

The pillow supported his head as he considered his limited options of either accepting their hospitality or returning home. 'I can't…'

'You must,' she interrupted, voice filled with conviction. 'I'm not gonna lose you, Marco. Miguel doesn't mind.'

Whether he minds or not appears irrelevant, Almeida. She's decided you're moving in with him!

'Your stuff's already there. I unpacked your backpack,' she explained, watching amused as he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. 'You need lots of new clothes!'

'Once I can afford some more, you can help pick them out,' he promised. 'Were those drawers empty, querida?'

Rita shook her head nonchalantly. 'No, Miguel had some stuff in them. I put them on his bed,' she explained unconcerned. 'He'll find another place to store them, don't you worry.'

He'll hate you before you arrive! 'Rita, I can only stay till I find a job, then I'll find someplace…'

'You'll stay with Miguel,' she insisted. 'He's a nice guy, you'll get along well. And I can come see you all the time.' Mischievous eyes searched his own and he felt the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

'Sounds too good to pass.'

The three days he was forced to remain hospitalized passed pleasantly. Relieved of the burden of homelessness and fed regularly he was free to study his course notes in the mornings, eyes straying to the door every time he heard footsteps down the corridor, knowing she would visit. The afternoons, once rest period was over passed rapidly, Rita sitting by his side recounting amusing details of their lecturers and their acquaintances. He told her about his own family, heart aching despite her friendship. On the final day of his stay he wrote his parents a lengthy letter explaining the events of the previous few weeks in detail and apologizing for the undoubted shame his confession would cause them.

'It's not as easy to get by as I figured it would be,' he wrote, chewing the pencil. 'I guess I learned a lot since my arrival. Don't worry about me; it seems things have settled down. I'd be really happy if I didn't miss you all so much.' Blinking rapidly he slipped the letter into an envelope, sealing it before he could change his mind. Just wait till you get their reply, Almeida!

Dressed in the clothes she brought him, all of which were new, he awaited her arrival. His nurse peered in on him occasionally reminding him to wait in the chair and he nodded, assuring her he was aware he required rest. Heart beating a little faster he followed her along the corridor, down the elevator and out to her car, trying his utmost to appear calm.

'You're nervous, right?' she questioned, gifted with the apparent ability to read his mind.

'A little,' he admitted. 'It's not real nice, being dependent.' The admission was spoken quietly, their deep friendship the only reason he expressed it at all. She appeared to understand.

'We'll find you a job, sweetheart.' Her arms wrapped round him, she pulled him close to her, sliding her lips over his. He responded passionately, her presence stirring a strange longing from deep within himself. At that moment he had no thought of anything but remaining wrapped in her arms. The world stood still.

Marco followed her out of the elevator apprehensively; aware he would be relying on the charity of her brother. It was a position he hated finding himself in, hated it with every fiber of his being. Deeply humiliated he stood beside her unable to recall the face of his benefactor.

A medium sized man answered the door, grinning lazily at Rita. 'Hi, sis.' She followed him into the apartment, dragging the reluctant Marco by the arm.

'Miguel, this is Marco,' she said, announcing his name with the honor reserved for visiting diplomats. 'Marco, my brother.'

'Hi,' Miguel told him, nodding his head at the couch. 'Sit down. You don't remember being here, do you?'

Marco shook his head, filled with embarrassment. 'No,' he admitted softly. 'Look, I don't even know how to thank you. I'll repay you for everything as soon as I can.'

Miguel gazed at him amused, reading the sincerity in his eyes. He actually means it. That's a first, anyway, someone offering to repay a loan! Not that I could accept it, of course, or Rita would kill me. He shrugged, wishing to avoid embarrassing his guest. 'There's no hurry. Let me show you round,' he suggested, unable to think of anything further to add momentarily, his eye on his sister watching Marco with a hitherto unseen warmth in her face. 'That's the kitchen,' he began, waving his hand at an impeccably neat room. 'It's clean because I usually eat out. You're welcome to cook, but you gotta clean up after yourself.'

Normally eat out. He needs a wife desperately or he'll get sick for sure. All that take-out is definitely not healthy. He nodded firmly, promising to clean up everything.

'Take it easy,' Miguel drawled, amused. 'Look, that's the living room; we'll have to share it. I watch baseball quite a bit…'

The cubs, most likely!

'And there's the bathroom.' He stood aside revealing the most luxurious bathroom he had ever seen. Pale blue tiles lined the room on both floor and walls and the bath was the lightest shade of apricot.

Marco gasped softly enthralled by such beauty, tentatively entering the room. His eye fell on an object sunk into the floor and he gazed at it in wonder. He had read about these items before but never actually seen one. 'Is that a spa?' he inquired, feeling foolish.

'Sure,' Miguel said forcing his chuckle aside. 'It works like a bath – you fill it with hot water and it bubbles. You gotta get a beer and place it right here,' he indicated a spot conveniently fashioned for bottles, 'and relax.'

Marco's eyes widened as he struggled to connect the beer with the working of the spa. Mortified, he watched Rita and Miguel shake with laughter, before Rita slipped her arm about his. 'Don't pay him any attention, Marco. He's decadent, that's all! Come see your room.' She led the way and he followed, face burning. Two large, airy bedrooms completed the apartment. She opened the smaller one and motioned him in.

A single bed stood beside the wall, a blue quilt cover on it with a matching pillowcase. A similar blue rug adorned a parquet floor. A wardrobe stood on the opposite end of the room, so large he could have placed all his belongings inside together with the brother he had gone to school with and still have spare room. A bookcase stood opposite piled with books. Marco moved forward to examine their titles.

'Feel free to read them,' Miguel told him generously. 'Just replace them in the same position you got them from. I'm real sick of tidying that case.'

'You never tidy it, Miguel. I do,' his sister protested. 'I like that job.'

'That's coz you always help yourself to my newest books,' he grumbled fondly.

Rita grinned back, the sharp denial Marco had expected failing to come. Instead she shrugged. 'What are brothers for?'

They ate a pizza together in the kitchen, the brother and sister teasing each other, leaving him time to gather his thoughts. They're nice people, Almeida. If only you could have met them under different circumstances…