Once Ezra was settled back in bed, Josiah had once again looked through the tomes on the bookcases until he found something that appealed to him. He'd found a somewhat battered copy of Le Morte d'Arthur and pulled that from shelf.

He settled down on the couch, noticing as he had in the past how comfortable it was. At first glance, it may have seemed Ezra had chosen his furnishings because they were stylish, but comfort hadn't been far from mind when he'd made his choices. Opening the book, Josiah realized it had been a while since he'd read the Arthurian legend. It didn't take long for him to become engrossed in it.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been reading when he thought he heard noises coming from Ezra's bedroom. He flipped the book over in his lap and listened carefully to see if the noise would repeat. Within seconds he heard it again. It sounded like Ezra calling out.

Putting the book down heedless of keeping his place, he got up from the couch and went to Ezra's room. As hurried down the hall, he could hear the ill man's voice more distinctly. It sounded more like Ezra was having a bad dream than that he needed assistance.

Pushing the bedroom door open fully, the dim light from the hall was enough for Josiah to see his friend tangled in the bed clothes. He was reaching out to some unseen person and begging not to be left alone.

Reaching the side of the bed, Josiah grasped the searching hand. His voice was soft and reassuring when he spoke. "I'm here, Ezra. It's ok. You're safe. You're not alone." He brushed his friend's hair back from his brow with his free hand, noting the heat of a continuing fever. He kept up the quiet reassurances until he saw Ezra's eyes blink open.

"Josiah?" Ezra's voice was little more than a rough whisper. "Don't leave me," he begged still caught up in the dream. "Don't want to be alone."

"I won't leave. You're not going to be alone."

Ezra pulled in a quick breath and Josiah could almost see the confusion disappear from his eyes although he still looked unnerved. "You with me now?"

"Josiah?" Ezra questioned again in a stronger voice. "What? Why?" He pulled his hand back and fisted the comforter.

Josiah sat on the side of the bed. Although he'd released Ezra's hand when he'd pulled it back, he was still brushing his hair back. "Seems you had one doozy of a dream." He kept his voice as gentle and reassuring as he had when Ezra was caught in the throes of the nightmare.

"Dream?" Ezra reached up to rub a hand over his eyes prompting Josiah to pull his hand back. "Um…yes…a dream." His voice was growing steadier the longer he was awake. He blew out a breath. "A most unpleasant dream."

"I'm going to turn on the lamp," Josiah said in warning then put his actions into word. He watched as Ezra blinked in the sudden light even though it wasn't very bright. He saw the residual confusion and…fear…in his friend's eyes. "It might help if you talk about it," he suggested gently. "I've been told I'm a good listener."

Ezra hiked himself up, so he was sitting against the headboard with the pillows bunched at his back. He rubbed his hands over his face then back through his hair making it stick up on end. Although his eyes still looked glassy from the fever he had, the confusion had finally left them. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times as if he weren't sure whether he wanted to share the dream or not. "I was on a boat," he finally said surprising Josiah. He'd thought for sure Ezra would refuse to share. "It um…the water was so still, and it was sunny. It was relaxing."

"Sounds nice," Josiah offered. "I assume it didn't stay that way."

"No. No. It didn't," Ezra continued. He kept his eyes down. "The sky got gray, and the water became very rough and…um…you all were there…in the water." He flicked his eyes up at Josiah but then quickly looked back at the blanket over his lap. "It was windy, and you were all begging me to help you...to save you." His voice became more strident as he related the dream. "I tried. I tried to get to all of you, but the wind kept pushing me back." Again, he looked up, momentarily meeting Josiah's eyes. "I tried. I really did, but then the water was on fire and...you were all gone," he finished in a whisper. He looked as if he were going to say more but shook his head minutely instead.

Josiah squeezed his friend's shoulder in support. "What else, Ezra. What aren't you telling me?" When the other man remained silent, he pressed, "Dreams can't hurt you, son, but they can haunt you. Tell me."

"Voices," Ezra murmured after a tense moment of silent. "Voices blaming me." His voice became tortured and, this time when he looked up at Josiah it was with a look imploring the older man to tell him the voices were wrong and to reassure him. "I'll always be alone."

It was easy to see that the dream stood for how Ezra saw his place on the team...somehow separate from the rest, but still responsible for them. Despite feeling he was somehow separated; he still felt the burden that if he failed his team, they'd turn their back on him and he'd be alone.

It seemed a million things all went through Josiah's mind at the same time when he heard Ezra's final words: wondering who it was who'd put it in his head that he was to blame for every failure no matter how hard he tried; anger for whomever it was who'd drilled it into him that he should be ashamed of his feelings; mostly, compassion that Ezra would think he'd be abandoned because of a mistake or failure. "Oh, Ezra," he breathed out. He tilted his friend's face up so he could see his eyes. "It's just a dream. I know you've somehow got it in your head that you've got to be perfect, or no one will want you, but you've got it wrong."

"I'm failing the team," Ezra whispered. "I can't do my job like this and that affects all of you."

"You're not failing us, son, and you're not going to be alone."

"But..."

"No buts," Josiah interrupted. "There's no shame in being sick and you are not failing us. I wish you'd understand that."

"My whole life I've," Ezra began but then trailed off. "When I was young," he began again, "I didn't know better and I'd assist Mother, but gradually I learned. I wanted no part of her schemes. I grew so tired of people looking at me with that tilt of the head...that question in their eyes...could they trust me? Was I my mother's son?" He fisted the covers tighter in his hand and glanced up quickly at Josiah. "I love my mother, but I didn't want to be like her. With all Mother taught me, I could have had a life as a professional gambler or...or...something else." He left the something else unsaid knowing that Josiah would understand. "An MBA was safer, even if it was more boring. Mother felt I'd failed her. That I'd taken all she'd taught me and threw it away.

"Then the FBI recruited me, and I thought I found my place, but the rumors began, and I started to get those looks again. My partner didn't trust me, and I'm not sure he'd have gone out of his way to back me up."

Josiah appeared ready to say something, but Ezra held up a hand stopping him. "No. Let me. Please." Only when it didn't look like Josiah was going to interrupt did Ezra continue.

"I never did any of the things they accused me of, but it didn't matter. I had no one I could trust, and I felt I must have failed, somehow, if the men and women I worked closest with believed those rumors. I'd just about given up and was seriously considering perhaps Mother had been right. Perhaps I was wasting my talents." Again, he briefly looked up at Josiah then back down. "If everyone thought I was a cheat..." He blew out a breath composing his thoughts and wondering why he felt compelled to tell his friend all of this. "I don't believe Chris knows it was a lifeline he threw me when he asked me to join his team. I fear my life would have gone off in a completely different direction...and not for the better...had he not come along. He...you all have given me my life back and I can't afford to throw that away. I cannot let all of you down. I have finally found a place I belong, and I will not lose that." He punched at the mattress. "I will not."

"You won't," Josiah said as he put his hand over Ezra's to stop him from punching the mattress. "We aren't the same people as the ones in the past who turned their backs on you." He looked imploringly at his friend. "How do we make you trust that?"

Ezra looked long and hard at Josiah before shrugging. "I don't know, Josiah. In here," he said as he tapped his forehead, "I believe you. But here." This time he tapped his chest over his heart. "I don't know." He looked around the room then sighed. "I'm tired."

"You need to rest." Josiah brushed his hand over Ezra's forehead and cheeks. "You still have a fever. How about I get you some Ibuprofen?

"I believe I'll probably have a fever for a while," Ezra said with a wan smile. "Ibuprofen will be most welcomed. Perhaps it will help quiet the drum that's taken up residence in my head."

"I'll get it for you."

Josiah grabbed the bottle of Ibuprofen from the bathroom, noting there were only a few more tablets left. Once Ezra had taken two and drank some water, he helped him to lie back down and pulled the covers over him. "Need anything else?"

"Something to defeat this pesky virus."

"Wish there was something." Josiah twitched the covers once more than turned out the light. "Get some sleep. I'll be in the other room if you need anything."

Ezra nodded slightly but didn't verbally respond.

Josiah waited in the room until he was sure Ezra was settled before leaving. He made sure to keep the bedroom door partially opened should his friend need anything during the night.

He made his way back to the living room and settled on the couch once more to read but found he couldn't. After rereading the same paragraph three times, and still not being sure what it said, he put the book aside.

It saddened him that Ezra still had so much trouble just trusting. He understood why, and that angered him. He wished there were something he could do, some magic wand he could wave that would take away his friend's insecurities and assure him of his place with the team. It was old lessons and hurts, though, that made Ezra the way he was and Josiah knew it would take time to overcome them. He was determined, though, that they would be overcome.

Letting out a sigh knowing there was nothing he could do at that exact moment, he picked up the book again and immersed himself in Camelot.

It was just going on eleven when he decided it was time for him to go to bed as well. Walking by his friend's bedroom on his way to the guestroom, he poked his head in to check on him. It didn't look like Ezra had moved at all since he'd settled down after the dream. Josiah hoped that was a good sign and that the rest of the night would pass peacefully for his friend.

Slipping in the room, he smoothed the covers over Ezra even though they hadn't been disturbed. He brushed his hand over his forehead, careful not to disturb him. Although not high, the fever persisted.

"Pleasant dreams, son," he whispered before leaving the room to seek him own rest.