Cappie's POV

I was dying. It was that simple. Every time I closed my eyes I saw my relatively short life drifting before my eyes in a stream of nameless, faceless women, bad alcohol and far too many video games. Isn't that what was supposed to happen before you die ?
Thing about it was that, that was what happened while I was lying there awake. Every time I drifted off into a comma like sleep, she was there. Everywhere, in fact. I could feel Casey's hands on me, her lips tasting me, her body pressed against me. I felt her everywhere and it was so real that it shook me back to reality within moments.

Delirious. That's what I was. I was delirious.

But even though I knew it wasn't real, knew that she wasn't there with me, my heart sank a little further into itself every time I opened my eyes and found myself alone.

I had a vague memory of Rusty knocking on my door at some point. I don't know what I said to him. I couldn't even remember what it was he wanted. Everything hurt too badly for me to concentrate.

I couldn't breath. My chest wasn't expanding the way it should. There wasn't enough room in my lungs for air along with all the other crap that was currently resting there.

I couldn't cough, though my chest burned with the need to. My throat was on fire. I couldn't swallow, couldn't cough, couldn't use my throat to dislodge the muck in my lungs enough to get enough oxygen there.

I was drowning without the help of water. My mind was playing tricks on me. I kept seeing that little green blob with the cigar and hat that was supposed to be a huge lugger from the cold medicine commercials. Musinex or something like that. He was partying in my chest along with several of his friends and relatives.

Yep, I was losing my mind.

I heard my bedroom door opened in the darkness, the light from the hall was like a bright, yellow beacon that was only there for a moment before the door shut tight again, blocking out the blinding light.

I wanted to open my eyes, to see who was intruding upon my slow, impending death, but the idea alone caused me far too much pain.

The bed shifted, somewhere near the foot with a newly added weight and something brushed against my leg, though I barely felt it through the several layers of blankets I'd managed to pile on top of me. And I was still so cold, my teeth were chattering.

" Cappie ?" It was her voice and I was sure I had drifted back into my comma again. I braced myself against what always happened next, the reality of finding her not with me.

I didn't even bother to answer her. Maybe if I ignored the ghost from my past, it would go away and leave me alone. It hadn't worked for Scrooge, but maybe I would be luckier.

The bed shifted again and in the next moment I felt a warm hand brush across my forehead, then I heard her gasp.

" My God, You're burning up." She told me, as if this was something I wasn't already aware of.

Great, I get the ghost of stating the obvious.

I groaned and snatched at the blankets when I felt them being pulled away. There was no way I was letting her take my blankets. They were the only things between me and freezing to death and I wasn't giving them up without a fight.

" Stop it, Stupid. I'm trying to help you." I heard her tell me through the fog in my brain.

Okay, so the ghost of stating the obvious and name calling.

I realized it was a losing battle. I didn't have the strength to fight against her, so I braced myself for the feel of the icy air and let go of the blankets.

She pulled the blankets back, but only a little and then I felt her head resting on my chest. The smell of strawberries and vanilla was soothing, though it was more like a taste on my tongue because I wasn't able to breath through my nose.

" Cappie, " she said again, coaxing me into opening my eyes and look at her.

When she repeated it, I decided she wasn't going to leave me alone until I complied and I slowly blinked.

She was resting above me, close enough that I could feel her body heat against my shoulder.

" Have you taken any medicine ?" She asked, as her hand came up to brush a stray strain of hair from my forehead.

I tried to shake my head, but the pain stopped the motion abruptly. " No," I finally croaked out as best as I could.

She tsked at me, like I was some kind of infuriating child that she had no idea how to deal with.

" I guess you would have just laid here and died if I hadn't come back, huh ?" She told me.

I closed my eyes again.

Stating the obvious, name calling and scolding, wow, this ghost just gets better and better.

The bed moved again and I heard a little groan escape my very dry, very cracked lips. Then the blankets came back and I felt them being tucked around my shoulders.

" I'll be back, " Her breath whispered against my cheek, then her lips brushed my forehead and it was the most soothing thing I'd ever felt.

I leaned into her kiss, trying to keep her from pulling away. She indulged me, by lingering for a moment more, then she was gone again.

Okay, I guess I could deal with all the other crap, as long as it came with kisses like that, occasionally.

I don't remember falling asleep, but apparently I did because .....

A long, perfectly manicured, red fingernail trailed down the middle of my chest in a lingering, languid motion that made me strain upwards trying to increase the pressure. She was having none of it and her other hand came up to my shoulder, holding me firmly to the mattress. Her hair brushed across me, a feather-like touch that drove me crazy.

I reached up a shaking hand and brushed it through the long locks, reveling in the silky, softness.

Her lips brushed mine. And then she tried to pull away, but I grabbed her shoulder and dragged her tightly against me, deepening the kiss and flicking my tongue across her lips. Her mouth opened under mine and I plunge my tongue inside its velvety warmth, letting it bump over her teeth and glide across her own tongue.

She made a whimpering noise somewhere low in her throat and I felt her body relax over mine, molding itself to the contours of my chest. I ground out a groan of my own as her hands played over my shoulders.

She broke the kiss almost reluctantly, but quickly busied herself with tasting my throat. Her tongue lashed out, flicking over my Adam's apple and I gasped. Then her mouth attached there and she started to suck softly at first, then increasing to a point that I know was leaving a mark.

" Cappie, " The word came out like a moan to my ears and served to send my heart racing even faster.

Then the thought occurred to me that she had somehow managed to moan my name while her mouth was still attached to my throat.

It wasn't possible and the confusion startled me.

Then I heard it again. Only this time, it wasn't a moan and the bed was shaking

I tried to ignore it all and concentrate on the feel of her, laying over me, running her hands up and down my shoulder, along my arms, over my chest.

I was fighting a losing a battle, struggling to hold on to the dream with every ounce of strength I had left.

It wasn't enough and the next time she said my name, my eyes drifted opened to find her there, very much clothed and looking down at me from the side of the bed, where she was standing.

This was some form of torture, I decided. Some kind of Karmic payment for all my misdeeds. It was the only way I could explain the continuous dreams.

" I need you to sit up." She told me. " You have to take this."

" What is it ?" I managed to ask, though I had no idea how.

" It's medicine. It will make you feel better."

Her words only vaguely made sense to me, but I did catch the part about feeling better, so I tried to do as she asked. I was willing to do anything it took to make the pounding in my head and burning in my chest to stop.

She offered me a small cup full of neon green liquid and I eyed it suspiciously.

This was some kind of Dr. Kevorkian idea that she cooked up to end my suffering. I was convinced of it. The antifreeze in the cup would put me out of my misery and end all the pain.

I took the cup and downed the contents. If she had determined killing me was the only way to make me better. I was okay with that. I'd rather die quickly that continue suffering so much.

I held the cup out and as soon as she took it, I collapsed back down to the bed. Then I reached for the blankets so I could wrap myself back into my cocoon, but she held them away from me.

I groaned at her, but the sound that came out was more of a growl.

I heard her chuckle. Then I felt something cool and solid pressing against my lips.

" Open you mouth. I need to see how high your fever is." She instructed.

I didn't put up much resistance as she slipped the thermometer between my lips and settled it under my tongue. " Now, try to keep your mouth closed until it beeps."

" I can't breath." I protested around the instrument.

" I know, " She soothed, worrying with my hair again, " Just do the best you can."

I opened my eyes again and blinked up at her. She was perched on the bed beside me now and she smiled down at me with affection and concern in her eyes. " This is what you get for parading around in women's lingerie in October." she told me, though there wasn't a scolding tone to her voice.

I nodded slightly and opened my mouth to say something, but she shook her head and I closed it again.

The thing in my mouth finally beeped and she pulled it away and glanced at it quickly.

The look in her eyes wasn't a good one.

" You need to see a doctor." She told me.

I shook my head. " No doctors."

" I know you hate doctors, Cappie. But your fever is pretty high and I can hear your chest rattling every time you take a breath. You could have pneumonia."

" No doctors." I repeated adamantly.

She sighed. The worry in her eyes nearly made me change my mind. " Why didn't you tell anyone you weren't feeling good before it got this bad ?"

" It just happened. I was fine before tonight." I answered. She must have noticed how scratchy my voice sounded because she reached for the nightstand and held out a cup with a bendy straw in it facing towards me.

I sipped gratefully. And the minute the liquid hit my tongue I looked up at her in surprise. I was expecting water. What I got was apple juice. How the hell had she remembered the apple juice ?

It was exactly what my mother had given me when I got sick as a child. I'd mentioned it to her once.

She sighed again in defeat this time. " Okay, no doctors for now." She emphasized the last two words. " But if your temperature rises just one more degree, I'll have Beaver carry you if that's what it takes."

I nodded in agreement.

The next thing she did was reach to the bottom of my shirt and start to raise it.

I looked at her in surprised confusion.

" I'm really not in the mood right now, Case. Can I get a rain check ?"

She laughed and rolled her eyes. " I'm going to put vapor rub on your chest to help you breath." She explained.

" Oh." I was disappointed but the part about helping me breath sounded good.

The minute her hands touched my chest I was in heaven, even with the almost overpowering scent of menthol filling my small room. Her fingertips glided over my skin in smooth, graceful strokes. It was intoxicating, mind-numbing. I was completely unable to think about anything else. Even the pounding in my head seemed to ease while her fingers caressed my body.

I tried to remind myself that I was sick and all she was doing was taking care of me. It didn't mean anything else, but my body still responded the way it always did when she was so close to me. I was very glad I had all the blankets covering me to hide what might have been a very embarrassing situation. I had no idea how it was possible to feel as bad as I did and as good as I did at the same time.

I glanced up at her, drawing my eyes from her hands where I had been staring with utter fascination, to find her watching her hands as well, with the same kind of attention I had been giving them. There was something in her eyes that I didn't understand. There was a compelling, emotional, gut-wrenching look on her face. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking, what the look was for, but her hands were causing my mouth not to work as it should.

She caught my eye and gave me a smile, the look gone in an instant. " So what happened to your date ?" she asked, casually. " Why isn't she here taking care of you ?"

" What date?" I mumbled, truly confused.

" Beth, I think her name was." She prompted.

Did I know a Beth ? I tried to concentrate, to remember, to put a face with the name she supplied. But I found my memory lacking. If I did know a Beth, she obviously hadn't made that much of an impression, at least not with Casey so close to me.

I shook my head carefully. " I don't remember." I admitted and I received a scolding look in return.

" Cappie, you were just with her a few hours ago. Are you telling me you've already forgotten the poor girl ?"

I nodded. " While you're doing that, yeah."

I hadn't realized I'd said the words out loud. But she snatched her hands back, letting me know that apparently I had.

When I looked up at her, she seemed non-plussed and composed. " I think that should be enough. Try to go back to sleep." She told me, as she pulled my shirt back down. " You'll feel better when you wake up."

" Will you be here ? " I asked, even as my eyes started to close as if in response to her instructions.

" Of course I'll be here. " She answered as she kissed my forehead and tucked the blankets back around my shoulder.

" Promise ?" I muttered, just on the brink of sleep.

" Promise."

I felt her begin to move from the bed and I found the strength to stop her before she got very far. I forced my eyes opened one final time and pulled my hand to from the blankets so I could reach to the other side of the bed. " Will you be here ?" I asked her, indicating the other side of the bed.

She looked at me for a moment, considering her answer. Then she smiled. " Yes, I will be right there when you wake up. Now go to sleep and let the medicine work."

I let my eyes drift close and nodded. I fell asleep with a slight smile on my lips and her hand in mine.

Casey's POV

I shouldn't have said yes. I knew it the moment the word slipped from my lips. We needed to talk before I let myself slid into his bed again, but he was clearly not up for the discussion. It would have to wait. That much was certain. But I felt guilty for agreeing to sleep next to him.

Guilty over everything with Max. I shouldn't feel guilty. Cappie was sick. There was no hidden meaning in my sleeping with him. He just wanted comfort. When Cappie was sick, he needed to be nurtured. Some people took the ' leave me alone and let me die in peace' way of thinking when sick. Cappie needed to be coddled and smothered and taken care of. I suspected it was because he hadn't received a lot of that kind of thing as a child. His mother had taken care of him when he got sick, but as far as I could determine she hadn't had the kind of maternal instincts that went along with the rest of it. She wasn't a coddler or a smotherer. She wasn't cold or impersonal or unfeeling. I could tell that from the way Cappie talked about her on the occasions when he actually talked about her, but she wasn't a supermom either.

I could understand that. My mother was not a supermom either. My mother was a professional and because of that, it had fallen to my grandmother to take care of Rusty and I when we got sick. My grandmother was a supermom and a super-grandmother for that matter. She taught me everything I knew. Which was a good thing since it always seemed to fall to me to take care of Cappie when he fell ill.

It wasn't that his friends didn't want to be there for him. They were all guys and they just didn't know how.

Besides, I liked doing it. I liked being there to take of him, especially after all the times recently that he had taken care of me. It felt right to return the favor. There were very few times that Cappie needed anything from anyone else. Growing up essentially alone had taught him how to get the things he needed without the help of others. It was one of the things I loved about him. He was independent and almost completely self-sufficient. Capable of taking care of himself without anyone else's help, except when he was sick. Then he had this way of just curling up under his blankets and hoping it went away.

So I was glad that I had arrived when I did. And apparently the rest of the house was just as thrilled by my appearance. When I got there, intending to have a serious talk with the now incapacitated man, I was greeted at the door with much fanfare.

Rusty had jerked the door opened and pulled me inside before I even had a chance to knock.

" Oh, thank God. " He cried as he shut the door behind him. " Did he call you ? Is that why you're here? "

" Did who call me ?" I had asked confused.

" Cappie. I figured he must have called you before he passed out." He explained.

" No, he didn't call. Is he alright ? Why are you all looking at me like that ?"

I had asked this because I found myself surrounded by in a circle of Cappie's closest friends. Wade and Heath were standing directly in front of me, Rusty was at my side, close enough to grab me should he need to and Beaver had moved behind me, blocking my retreat through the front door. I was feeling a little trapped and even more confused by there odd behavior.

Beaver's stance nearly made me laugh out loud when I turned to look at him. His feet were slightly apart, arms crossed over his massive chest. He looked for all the world like a bouncer or a prison guard.

His eyes found mine and there was a seriousness there that surprised me. " Cappie's sick." he said, as if that explained everything.

And to anyone else it might not have meant much. I knew what all this was about then. Cappie was sick and they needed me to take care of him. His best friends had decided that I was going to be Cappie's nurse, whether I wanted to or not.

I laughed as I looked around at all of them. " You are all a bunch of cowards." I told them as I handed my jacket off to Rusty. They had the grace to look a little sheepish." Where is he ?"

" Upstairs in bed." Rusty told me.

I started for the stairs, then paused and turned back to them. Beaver was still in front of the door. " You don't have to guard the exits. I'm not going anywhere." I said and he relaxed but still didn't move. " Is he alone up there or do I need a blindfold for myself and a cattle prod to remove the latest Harpie ?"

Heath answered me. " He's alone. But, Casey, he's being really quiet and not saying anything or asking for anything."

Wow, I knew right then, he was really, really sick.

And that was how I found myself sitting on the side of his bed, looking down into his flushed, sleeping face and feeling a world of guilt for wanting nothing more than to slid into bed next to him.

The other thing I really loved about Cappie was his boyishness. He was a five-year-old trapped in a man's body. It was also one of the things that had broken us up. But when he was sick, there was a helpless quality that went along with it. A quality that appealed to my maternal instincts.

As I sat watching him, I half expected him to put his thumb in his mouth. It was that kind of boyishness that I loved.

The self-centered, irresponsible, irrational part was what I had a problem with.

The thought occurred to me that he wasn't any of those things anymore. He had changed so much since we were together. It was like somehow he had managed to hold on to all the things I loved about him and get rid of all the things I couldn't live with.

Rusty had informed me that he had even gone back to his favorite major, psychology and was actually attending his classes. Rusty said he mentioned something once in a very drunken state about being a youth councilor.

I thought about Cappie, surrounded by children, all of them looking up to him as he guided them through their problems and helped them achieve their goals. Yeah, I could totally see that.

It was a career choice custom made for the man I was watching sleep.

Cappie had found his purpose. I felt a little jealous about that. Then the irony struck me. Here I was, the career-minded, goal-seeking, perfectionist that always had to do the right thing, floundering around trying to find my niche in life. And the unmotivated, uninspired, slacker had managed to find his place in the world before I had.

That was irony at its best.

I stood from the bed, looking down at the Halloween costume I was still wearing and uttered a sigh. I needed something to change into so I could sleep. There was no way I was getting comfortable in what I had on.

I went to the chest of drawers at the end of his bed, then paused as my eyes drifted towards his closet. I remembered the photos. It seemed like a gross invasion of his privacy to me, but there was nothing in the world I could do to keep my feet from moving the few steps it took to get me in front of the door.

I reached a shaking hand out and snatched the door opened with a quick look over at the bed. I didn't want him to catch me sneaking around, going through his things.

He didn't move, didn't budge an inch, even as the door made a soft creak on its hinges.

I took my eyes from his sleeping form and found myself staring at a photo of myself and Cappie at our first party together. There was another of us dancing together as some other outing, I didn't remember. And another of his kissing on a bench in front of the his freshman dorm. And another of us together in the backyard of KT house, laying in a hammock together.

I reached out a finger and traced over the image of that one. I remembered that night very clearly. It had been one of the best nights of my life.

I glanced back towards him and felt a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. Over me, indeed, I scoffed silently to myself.

Tomorrow we were going to have a long talk. Tomorrow we would figure out exactly what was going on between us. Tomorrow I was going to tell him that I loved him.

It was with that thought that I shut the closet door and went about getting ready for bed.