I'm back! Sorry, I had to get certain other things from my system before I could finish this. I wanted this to be done a few days ago, but I couldn't get a few scenes right. I hope his flows okay. I meant to include Marie a lot in this one, but . . . She's there is spirit at least! The next one, I promise I'll give her a bigger part.—Her and Evi and Matt.
But until then, I leave you with an odd story I thought up with a fever racking this brain of mine. I hope this is okay—and that it works, even with Mu and Murrue being a bit off the mark character-wise. . . .
XI. Isolation
It buzzed.
That annoying clock buzzed its annoying alarm and no matter how annoying that clock became, it didn't change the fact it was time to wake up. Murrue opened up one eye, then two, and with her deep amber eyes, she just stared. The clock that buzzed shone with the time: 6:30.
With a huff Murrue forced her arm up and out of the covers to silence it. She had to stretch because of the heavy deadweight in the bed with her. Mu was practically laying atop her, his thick body pressing hers down with his immovable arms holding her in place. Murrue giggled with what little breath she had, but struggled to hold it in. If this was any other situation, she knew Mu would be all over her in a different kind of way—a way she would have thoroughly enjoyed. But now, with him fast asleep and completely dead to the world . . . Let's just say Murrue didn't like the idea of being crushed by the sheer weight of her lover.
She pulled an arm free and used it to push back some of the hair that had fallen before her face.
"Mu," she whispered quietly, jostling him a bit. "Mu. . . . Wake up."
But he didn't wake. Murrue could've guessed that—There were always days where it could take absolutely forever to wake him up. But Murrue didn't have forever, she didn't even want to try.
"Mu . . . C'mon, you gotta move. . . . Please wake up. . . ."
She sighed. There was no way that would ever work. She was stuck. Stuck to forever suffocate beneath him.
With a deep groan Murrue found the strength to grab at Mu's thick shoulders and push him far enough for her to wriggle free. Just as she was about to slide from the sheet prison, Murrue found herself being pulled back in.
Mu's arms had closed tightly about her body and were then bringing her closer, only stopping in their attack when she was held close and tight up against him. Murrue caught a glance of one of Mu's cocky, satisfied grins though his eyes were closed and she found herself with a wry smile of her own.
He'd been awake the entire time.
"Mu!" She shifted for the chance he'd let up, but he just held her in place as he nuzzled himself closer to lose himself in her hair.
"No . . . Stay . . ." He murmured into her ear, his speech slurred due to how he was still only half-awake. His hot breath tickled as it sent stray strands of hair away. "Call in . . ." He slurred, still groggy as he nestled them both deeper into the bed. "Call in 'n tell 'em I'm not feeling well. . . . Hmm."
"Mu, please—" Murrue moaned in annoyance as she went to push him away once more. But then her hands fell across and she froze, startled gasp escaping her. At her gasp, his finally eyes opened, the deep blue staring back hard.
"What?" He asked, concerned. Sleep now gone from his voice. But his eyes still were dimmed.
But Murrue didn't answer him. She was too busy running her fingers over his face. With each touch, her face seemed to fall. With each fallen feature, her fingers moved quicker.
"Oh, no . . ." Murrue couldn't believe it. There was no doubting the dampening sweat stuck to his skin or the heat pulsating from every part of him.
Something worse.
"What?" Mu urged, annoyed at her silence.
"Mu . . . you're . . . you're sick. . . ."
"That's all you're worried about?" He asked, part incredulous. Mu's expressive eyes only shone with half their power, dimmed and flat. Murrue noticed easily. But, in his half-state, Mu rolled his flat eyes, heaved a large sigh and threw himself back into the bed. "Murrue, you had me worried something was actually wrong."
Mu's closed eyes stayed heavy as he settled himself back beneath her stare, hard smile adorning his face. "Besides, it's impossible," he murmured. His voice was hard but seemingly breathless and he slurred only a bit with his words. "I don't get sick.—you get sick."
Murrue flinched, biting her lip at his words. They were unknowingly harsh, the truth ripping through her. She was still mentally recovering from her brush with death a bit more than nine months before and then there was the fact that she almost bled out when delivering Marie, their new baby girl. Murrue was still pained with the idea that her personal weakness almost . . .
But she had to remind herself that it wasn't Mu, but Mu's fever talking. If he were himself, he'd never say something like that. He'd never even think of it. She just had to remind herself of that fact.
"You may be right," Murrue shot back, voice weakly strained. She regained her strength in due time. "—But that doesn't change the fact that you've still got a fever."
"I don't have a fever," he growled back, openly awake once more. His hand enclosed itself assuring-ly around her wrist. "I'm not sick."
Then, he changed and his hard blue eyes turned to ones pleading, whimpering almost. "But . . . could you still call me in so we can finish what I started?"
Murrue raised an eyebrow at Mu's obvious advance and childish plea, his grip on her wrist loosening up with affection. But Murrue just used the open hold to wrench her arm away.
With a huff, the ex-Captain left the bedroom leaving the ex-Commander to scowl alone.
-----
"Well, this proves it," Murrue muttered glancing between the thermometer and Mu's dimmed face. "You're a hundred percent sick—fever and everything. . . ." She couldn't help it, a smile just made its way to her face. She grinned, knowing full well what that meant.
"You're sure not going to like it, hm?" She subtly teased. "—To stay here and get some much needed rest 'til you're better?"
Mu went to struggle himself out from beneath the sheets, but Murrue's hand kept him down.
"And how long is that?"
"You're a strong man. You wont be sick for very long." Murrue grinned at how his face fell at how she twisted the answer. She could see in his eyes how much he wanted to get up—her hand still held him down.
Mu's own hand drifted from beneath the covers to discreetly encircle hers. His fingers began to play with their new found prey as he looked up at her.
"Right. . . . Especially with you watching over me. . . ."
"Yes, glad you understand," Murrue smiled, Mu's returned grin sharing the same quality of winning. Yet hers seemed more dangerous.
"—And that's exactly why, for the next day or two, you're not going to leave this room if I can help it."
"What?" That grinning smirk of accomplishment slid off his face, eyes widening as he forced his way sitting up.
"Oh, and no Evi, Matt or Marie for you either." Mu was stunned, gaping up at Murrue's controlled face. She dropped the bomb like it meant nothing. Hecould see the young laughter in her face and the voice she struggled to keep stern. "I guess I'll make them stay out of here 'til you're better, as well."
"But—. . . But why!"
Murrue turned to him, to face him quite fully. The change made Mu swallow his next childish plea. The playful laughter of her eyes was replaced by smooth lines of worry, lines creasing her beauteous face
"Mu . . . if you're sick then—" He rolled his eyes, sliding himself back between the sheets as he lazily rattled off something heard too many times to forget.
"'If the kid gets sick the parent is fine, but if the parent gets sick, the kid gets sick.' I know the logic already, Murrue."
At his blatant attitude, her only response was the deadly narrowing of her eyes.
"Then you should know how dangerous it would be if any of our children got sick. I didn't think we'd have to go over this, Mu. We brought Marie home a month ago!"
"Six weeks."
"—Does it change anything?"
Murrue's quick tone and sharp tongue silenced Mu that easily. Her voice was still one of a Captain—even after all those years. And she was right. His health was nothing to worry about, but their children—their newborn daughter . . .
"Mu? Does it change anything?" She asked again, somehow even sterner and deadlier than before.
". . . No," he answered flatly, jaw clenched tight at the idea. Mu's dark eyes had fixated themselves on the wall across, completely missing the woman standing strong above him.
But her hard face melted, soft smile glowing warmly. A hand second-naturedly came up to drift across his face, bringing his gaze to meet with hers.
"Oh, Mu . . ."
Murrue leaned slowly forward, brushing her lips chastely across his brow, beyond the pushed back hair.
"You need to get better," she whispered. "Now, I'll be right back, if you need me. But if you don't . . ."
"Of course I'll need you." He grinned, despite the situation. His eyes stayed dim. "I'm 'sick', right?"
"Mu, take a shower," Murrue murmured quietly, pulling away with a sigh. "And then, after that, you can get some sleep.—Rest is what strengthens your body, you know. If you get enough, you'll be all better before you know it."
"But I don't need it.—I'm not sick," he grumbled. "I'm not even tired."
Her only answer was just a soft shake of her head, both understanding yet mocking. She left the bedroom
Five minutes later, Murrue checked in on him and left quietly, soft grin melded to her face.
Mu was sleeping.
-----
That day passed, somehow without incident. Mu was called in sick and Murrue was left with the task of explaining to the children why exactly, though he was home, they couldn't go see their father.
It took awhile.
But . . . once everything had died down and peace settled in, Marie was asleep, Matt and Evi off to play elsewhere.
Murrue was left to sit alone at the kitchen table. Her eyes bore into the untouched coffee mug before her, though her thin fingers tightly entwined around it. She sat there, never moving, as time marched on past, leaving her alone.
At one points the thoughts became so much, her hand began to shake, her body swept up in the poisonous thoughts of her wandering mind.
Mu was such a strong person. He was right before. . . . He wasn't the type to get sick, she was. Yet there he was, succumbing to a fever.
She probably wouldn't have worried so much, but if the fever was stong enough to take down Mu, exactly how strong was it? Against a six year old, three year old and a seven week old, how strong could that fever be?
But . . . There were other possibilities . . .
Murrue recalled with a chill the first time she went to a doctor complaining of a high fever. She went in with a fever and came out with a deadly diagnostic.
It was the starting symptom to what almost killed . . .—What if Mu . . .
No! Dr. Addison had assured her that there was no way it could be passed.—There was no way!
. . . But . . .
The time came to start dinner, but Murrue didn't get up from her seat at the table. She kept her place as time raged on. It was only after Matt came up complaining of hunger that she even realized the sun had gone down.
Dinner was served late that evening.
-----
Mu opened his dark, dimmed eyes and looked with a half-attention out onto the street and houses below. A car drove by, its soft hum nothing to his muffled ears as he leaned hard over the window sill, arms having a hard time keeping his heavy head up.
A strong breeze blew in from outside, it's thick hot air doing nothing but making Mu feel the sweat even more. His eyes closed as another breeze came.
Then the door to the room opened—unnoticed to Mu. He was too busy leaning on the window sill to notice her approach—or her talking, or her shaking his shoulder. He only realized Murrue was in the room when she grabbed his arm and forced the man around. Through lidded eyes, Mu could just make out the glare of her eyes.
"Mu! What are you doing with the window open? It's freezing!"
She was shivering.
"What . . . ? It's just . . . so hot in here. . . ."
"Mu . . ." Murrue's hand flew to his face, easily feeling the heat as he leaned into her icy fingers. "Mu, you're burning up!—Come on, bed. Now. I think your fever's actually worse than this morning—never mind about yesterday!"
"What? . . . What are you talking about, Murrue?" Mu's strong words kept slightly slurred as Murrue gently forced him around the room to bed. Pushing him down to sit on the mattress was hard, but getting the fevered man to lie down was simple.
Murrue didn't like the feeling of being able to push Mu around so easily, it sent an awkward chill straight through her body as she sat herself down on the edge.
Even completely 'out of it' as he was, Mu found his fingers gently playing with hers, dimmed eyes smiling up.
"You're so . . . beautiful, Murrue," he mumbled, mouth curving. Murrue just took in her breath, fingers fumbling with the medicine bottle.
"Yes, of course I am," she rattled back, finally getting it open. Mu only scowled.
"I mean it."
"Medicine." Murrue forced the small cup of thick pink liquid into Mu's face, bypassing his thick hands. She shook the liquid before his eyes. After twisting up his face, tongue out an everything, Mu downed the medicine without another word but a whole lot of faces. Murrue smirked.
"I see you've accepted the fact you're really sick, hm?"
"No, I just want to get out of this damn room. . . ." He muttered.
"None of us like this arrangement, you know—Not you, not me, not Evi or Matt, and Marie's missing being held by her father." Murrue's face fell. "But we can't have them get sick. You should know that."
"Yeah, I know, but . . . I just hate being pent up in some room. . . . You should know that." He cracked a grin, dimmed eyes forcing a flicker of a dance through the blue. Murrue smiled.
"I do know." She leaned closer, gently pressing her lips to his.
". . . And what does that mean?" He asked as she began to leave.
"Mu, I love you. Get better."
He watched her leave, and once she left, Mu was left in the deafening quiet of an empty room where only his deep uneven breathing could be heard. But after awhile, the fever medicine began to take over, closing his mind out to all else but sleep.
And so sleep came.
He slept for a bit more of the day. When he woke up, it was around Four or so in the afternoon, but sleeping the day away was nothing.—How clearer he felt was everything.
Mu could even suffer a grin by then.
Mu felt so much better he pushed himself sitting in the bed, propping his back up with pillows. He glanced at the clock again, foot already setting the pace. He had no idea when Murrue had come in last so he didn't know when she'd come visit again—and there was no way he'd get up and go out. Even if he felt up to it, Murrue would be so angry. . . . Marie was still so young.
Another sigh and Mu let go a small cry of annoyance. True he had no patience, but nobody needed to prove the fact.
Eyes scanning the bedroom, Mu's eyes rested on a thick book placed neatly on the small table beside. He eyed it hungrily. Entertaining or not, a book could pass the time away—something he desperately needed.
Without another second for thought, Mu swiped the large book from its place and began to absent-mindedly flip through the pages. A small bookmark fell out, resting in his lap. Nothing special, just a slip of paper—though it fell from near the end. Shrugging off his mistake, Mu glanced at the clock once more.
Less than two minutes had rolled by since the last time he checked.
Finally the bedridden man decided upon just reading the book in his hands—nothing better to do. But he wasn't looking forward to just plainly reading.
That was until Mu's blue eyes flashed across the title: The Heart's Five of Spades. . . .
Intrigued, yet fearing, for what lay ahead beneath the cover, Mu took one last deep breath before plunging in and reading the first page.
The twenty pages after that flew right on by. Mu took a short break to glance at the clock. Five. So far the story was interesting, but mostly Mu was thankful that so far it seemed like a much different type of book than the title suggested. . . . He could breathe a sigh of relief. He had even liked the mysterious book so far.
But when Murrue finally walked through the bedroom door, Mu found himself shifting the book beneath the covers, though he himself didn't understand why.
Murrue came in, smile on her face brightening even more at the sight of him awake and alert, sitting up in bed.
"You're awake.—I'm surprised you didn't try to sneak out of here . . ."
"That's only because if I did try, you'd have my hide for it and I'd probably never leave this room again," Mu shot back defiantly from his place in bed.
"Ah, you've learned your place, I see," Murrue muttered with a smirk.
"Ah, but have you learned yours?" He grinned, eyes flashing, voice tipping too condescendingly for tolerance. When Murrue walked close enough, Mu's thick hands grabbed the woman's waist, dragging her down. "You should be here, beside me, more often, hm?"
His best grin sparkled in his eyes as he moved in to kiss her blushing face. What he received was a hand in his own face, pushing back. Murrue's tired voice pierced through his dazed consciousness.
"No, Mu, not with three kids, unfortunately. . . ." She pushed her self from the bed and his embrace, sternly smoothing out any wrinkles his hold took to her shirt. His face fell with ever flick of her hands. After being alone most of the little time he was awake, Mu inwardly crumbled from his wife's rejection.
His over-the-top pout brought giggles from her at least.
"Mu, you're such a child," she sighed. Murrue glanced down at the two pills she still kept held tight in her hand. "Hmm, maybe I should give you children's medicine instead . . .—I found the pills. Or do you want the liquid?"
"Give me that," Mu huffed, swiping the pills from her and easily popping them into his mouth. "See? Adult strength."
Murrue shook her head, smile playing with her lips.
"No, you just don't want to drink that stuff from before. If that's not childish, I don't know what would be. . . ."
Mu's response: a sensible stick of his tongue. Murrue rolled her dark, ambered eyes.
"And you'd better watch out, Mu. This one might make you tired." He wanted to say something, but he had nothing. In the empty silence, all he did was take advantage of the stillness and stole a kiss.
Murrue flushed.
"Hey!" Mu just shrugged.
"What? All's fair in love and war."
"Yes, but you're still sick, Mu!"
"Yeah, but I'm not contagious," he grumbled, shifting back into the bed, scowl deep set into his face. Sitting beneath the covers, there the man sat, thick arms crossed childishly against his chest.
It didn't matter to Murrue, all she did was fight to keep her smiles to herself.—she was losing. She smiled softly, hardly stifling a yawn.
Murrue stretched.
"God, I'm so tired," she mumbled. "—Taking care of the four of you is so exhausting. . . . Do you think I have time to take a hot shower? Marie's asleep, and Matt and Evi are doing something together in their room—a fort I think. . . . Now I'll have to clean that up too. . . ."
Mu stared at his wife. Clear eyes finally noticing. Her usually dark pristine hair seemed heavy and out of place, her amber eyes were weighted with sleep and emotion, soft rings and creases to measure about her face. In fact, Murrue's whole body was visibly creaking, weakened and stretched.
Mu sighed, staring up at his wife. It was then she noticed his hot gaze.
"What?"
"Murrue . . . Take your shower—take a nice long hot one. . . . You definitely deserve it."
She sent him a smile, soft and without words she thanked him. A short stretch and an even shorter kiss later, Mu watched as the bathroom door slowly closed.
The shower started, he could hear it's rushing metronome, and with an unmistakable grin, he imagined Murrue in it, hot under the water's fall.
Shaking out the steaming images from his mind, Mu struggled to go back to the book open in his lap.
It was hard to concentrate on the words—other words filled his mind instead.
He wanted so much to get up and walk around—in fact, his legs ached with something to do, an ache too hard to ignore—but Mu knew that if Murrue caught him, he'd have to stay in bed even longer, so The longer he didn't move now meant the faster he'd be up and out. He'd satisfy Murrue till then. She was worried.
Mu knew, regretfully for his pride, that if it was Murrue who was sick in bed, he'd be a lot more over the top than she. He'd never want to leave her side, but then there were the three kids to worry about as well. . . . Mu was impressed at how Murrue was handling it all, balancing him and them, making sure the entire situation didn't get any worse—which must have been difficult seeing as how he was being such the little brat in return. . . .
Mu satisfied himself with the book and his bed. Though he didn't try to complain too often to himself about the arrangement. But, even after picking up the book and starting it, Mu's find couldn't focus on the task.
Sleep began to slowly overtake him. And when the need pressed down upon his eyes, Mu didn't fight it. He let it easily consume him.
Not long had passed until a the sound of a door awakened him, eyes opening a crack.
". . . Mmm . . . ?"
"Daddy?"
"Shh! Mattie, not so loud!"
"Guys . . . ?" His dimmed eyes struggled to open farther. The figures were right beside the bed by then. Their voices rang painfully through his head.
"Daddy!"
"Feel better?"
"Are you still hot?"
"Does your head hurt?"
"Did you hit it?"
"Are you okay?"
"Are you po—poi— . . . po-ee-so-nous?—Is that why Mama wont let us see you?"
"Whoa, whoa . . ." Mu forced out, the rolling grumbles his body so wanted to give tossed away with awakening realization. "Hold on there. . . . What are you two doing here?"
"Mama said you're sick."
"And you can't come out."
"We miss you."
"So we're here to see you."
"You know, I don't think your Mama wants you in here. . . ." His eyes fearfully shifted towards the bathroom door. Still closed. He could still hear the shower running.
"But we got you soup!" Evi piped up, holding up a large white bowl in her hands. Matt took over the talking, in that soft small voice of his.
"And soup makes you better, right? That's what Mama says when she makes it for you. We're having soup too, so we cant get sick like you." And Evi thrust the white bowl into Mu's thick hands.
For a moment, he looked into the bowl. Anybody could tell how much the two children worked hard for it. He could tell by the feel of it in his hands how cold the soup was. He could tell by how chunky looking a regular broth-like soup looked that it was one of those condensed soup deals—where you add water. Evi and Matt kind of forgot that crucial step.
The two children watched intently as Mu stared into the bowl.
Mu didn't know whether it was the sickness, them or both, but his head began to hurt, world all fuzzy as he palmed his face.
"I think you're missing the point. . . ." He mumbled. But Evi took his display of sickness into her thoughts and grinned.
"You're getting better right?—Now that we brought you this?" Mu glanced up, paled face smiling back, stomach squirming uneasily in his gut.
"Thanks, you guys . . . so much.—I can feel myself getter better already."
"Really?" That made them light up. Mu grinned, then froze.
The soft background hum of Murrue's shower had stopped.
"Yeah, but you gotta keep this as our little secret, okay? Don't tell Mama."
"We wont," they answered—in unison, grinning all the way.
"Now, go on." He ushered them off, not relaxing until the two had left the room, door closed tightly behind them. Stomach still unsettled, Mu then frantically began to search about the room with his eyes for any place he could hide the bowl. If Murrue saw it . . .
Finally 'under the bed' was decided, so, Mu, for the first time in two days or so, climbed out of his warm inviting covers only to crawl upon the floor to shift the chunky, cold soup beneath and into the shadows. With that done, Mu forced himself back into bed, climbing and creaking as he slid into the returning warmth.
Laying down hadn't felt so good in a long while.
But he had chosen his moment of 'escape' wisely, for practically a few seconds later, the bathroom door opened, revealing the one and only Murrue
Mu quickly shut his eyes, and let his head droop. Part of him wanted to snore, but what could possibly be more obvious than that.
Murrue stepped out of the bathroom, hair wet, body wrapped away only by a robe.Shetook in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the unique scent of their bedroom. As much as she tried, she could never place what exactly calmed her so much about the place. But after spending way too much time in the shower, her body was practically steaming, soft skin feeling odd when against the smooth robe Mu had given her as a previous gift. Murrue's auburn hair was even darker with the water soaked through it, little tendrils of hair falling oddly into her face, but she didn't bother to tuck them away. She was too busy standing there.
Mu was right. A long hot shower did do her some good. It washed everything away that had seemed to be weighing her down, the stress from before gone though a feather lightness remained. All of her fried nerves seemed almost repaired and Murrue felt ready to face the world again.
Yep, Mu was right.
Mu was still in their bed, tucked up nicely in the pale sheets, asleep. She smiled at the sight. He was always so cute when he was sleeping.
Murrue carefully shifted forward across the floor, tip-toe-ing her way closer. Her fingers moved to sweep away a curl of golden hair oddly hanging across his face, but she didn't dare wake him. He needed his rest, after all. Deciding to return only later, Murrue made to shift her way silently out of the room, but soft, recognizable mumbles stopped her in her tracks.
"Mmm . . . Murrue . . . ?"
Turning around, her amber eyes easily lit up when she saw two slivers of blue gazing up at her from the bed.
"So you're awake. . . . It's about time for dinner, so I should go make that. . . . Do you want soup? . . . Again?"
His mind trailed back to what he'd slid beneath the bed . . .
". . . Yeah, soup's fine," he grinned.
-----
Murrue gazed down at the thermometer in one hand, her other still plastered to his forehead. That hand moved around, trying to find the heat elsewhere on him as he sat waiting, bouncing in his seat desperately like a child.
"Murrue . . ."
Her face twisted. She couldn't find that boiling heat. The thermometer was right.
"Hmph. Fever's really gone.—And it's been eighteen hours since the last one, so that means it's really, reallygone . . .—Oh, and you've been taking medicine?"
"Against my will, yes."
"Hmmm . . ." His confident grin faltered at the sudden realization she might not actually consent. Mu took on a new approach. A pleading, pouting approach.
"Aw, c'mon, Murrue," he whined. ". . . It's been three days. . . ."
"Um . . ." She bit at her lip, Murrue trying hard to search her mind for the answer. But the only one to come up was the most simple, yet problematic.
Sigh. Roll of her eyes. ". . . Fine. . . ."
He blinked back surprise.
"I—I can go?"
"Yes, yes," she smiled, happy sigh escaping her lips. "Yes, Mu, you can go."
His face lit up so fast, one wouldn't have been able to tell whether he was a kid or a father.—Mu was still and always both. Yet, it took her as a complete surprise as he pulled her lips to his, practically crushing them with hurried force.
"I love you," was all he was able to mutter before wrenching himself away, off to fly about the room, haphazardly pulling on a shirt at least.
He ran out of the room. Murrue was left behind to softly laugh. She could hear his voice coming from beyond the room, muffled from the door closing, but easily upbeat and laughing. With a soft shake of her head, Murrue stood up and began to follow him out.
When she made it to the doorway, somehow she wasn't surprised to see Mu already with young Marie tucked safely in his arms.—Evi and Matt were no where to be seen. Even from across the room, Murrue could see the unavoidable sparkling of Mu's cerulean eyes and she could hear the undeniable laughter in every breath from his lips as he spoke to their youngest daughter. It was obvious to see, even the air about Mu was dancing with his contagious delight.
"I'm so glad to get out of there," he grinned, glaring up to Murrue, Marie still held lovingly in his arms. Murrue had to wonder whether he'd ever let the girl go.
"I can tell. . . ."
"You know, Murrue . . ." Glancing up, his tanned face split into a grin, one of those roguish ones she could always count on him for. "You keeping me here these three days means but one thing. Do you want to guess what?"
She didn't want to guess. Her face twisted at thoughts alone. She sighed, exasperated already.
"What, Mu?" His grin grew even larger.
"You now owe me three more days of calling me in sick, so I can spend 'em all home with all you guys."
Murrue's face immediately darkened at his words, amber eyes flickering flames as her hands slowly but surely traveled to her hips.
"But that means you wont go back to work until next week."
He grinned a simple, full grin in response, dark eyes flashing.
"Well, that's the idea."
"Mu, I don't think—Oh. . . ." She paused. There before her stood the two other children of which their lives also revolved around. Evi and Matt stood there, silent, but easily half-awake.
Murrue kept on smiling as she bent down to their level. Mu watched and smiled.
"Good morning you two. Sleep well?"
Matt's crystal eyes glanced over to Evi, Evi's russet eyes dropping to the floor. The six year old's voice came out, slurred with sleep.
"Mama . . . Mattie and I didn't sleep too much. We kept fighting over the window in our room. He said it was really hot, but I was shivering the whole time. . . ."
Mu was far enough away that hedidn't hear the young girl's testimony, but Murrue sure did, eyes widening uncontrollably. When her hands flew to both her children's faces . . . Mu still didn't notice.
But when Murrue stood up, slowly brining herself to full height, the older man shivered. The chill didn't come from the air but from Murrue's piercing stare.
Immediately he swallowed.
Murrue's heated eyes narrowed even more, hard voice coming out as icy tendrils of fire with each searing word. He began to inch away, Marie still in his arms.
"Mu . . . Would you care to tell me how and why our two children have the same fever you did!"
"Uh . . ." Mu tried on his best cracked, reassuring grin, but his eyes clearly avoided the woman before them, focusing instead in the far corner. As his thick hand went to rub at his neck, Mu swallowed again. "Um. . . ."
His voice quickly lost all its power, eventually coming out in a strangled squeak, unheard of from the man. It was followed by off swallows of 'laughter'.
" . . . Sicknesses come in threes?"
"MU!"