"You're damn straight I would," Kayla snorted. Pulling her fleece robe tighter around her, she folded her arms right as Steve walked up and led her to the couch.

"Baby-"

"I'm fine," she protested, getting met with looks from both men.

"Fine, I'm as fine as can be expected."

Nodding, Tripp sat next to her on the couch as Steve tried to wrap a throw blanket around her. A gesture she promptly shook off.

"Steve," she sighed. "Will you just-"

"Sweetness..."

"I'm not even cold! And I didn't come out here to be fussed over."

Abruptly Tripp took back his hand that had moved to take her pulse.

"Sorry," he shrugged. "Reflex."

"Don't apologize. It's a good one," Kayla said, giving him a sad smile. "I think a hug might help more, though."

"That your official course of treatment?" Tripp weakly joked, sniffing back tears as she pulled him into a tight hug.

"Kayla, I'm so-"

"Shhh. I know," she soothed. "I know."

"It's not right. None of this is-"

"Yeah, I know that, too."

Pulling back from the hug, Tripp wiped at his eyes.

"Don't think though you're going to be able to distract me," Kayla said, her tone light even though she had a no-nonsense look in her eyes.

"She's right, dude," Steve said, sitting on the arm of the couch beside his wife. "It's not gonna happen. Even the shiny objects don't work anymore."

"Depends on how shiny," Kayla smiled. Toying with the "I love you" sign charm on her bracelet, she leaned back against Steve as he slipped his arm around her.

"I don't want you, or Joe or Stephanie going after Orpheus. Confronting him and demanding anything is just playing into his hands, and all it'll do is make us worry."

"Speaking of Stephanie and Joe, Sweetness..."

"I know," she sighed, squeezing Steve's hand as tears sprang to her eyes.

"They need to find out in person, Steve. Not over-"

"I know, baby," Steve said, kissing the back of their joined hands. "Little Sweetness just texted and said Joe brought lunch to her office. I'll call her now; ask them to stop by here when they're through."

Nodding in agreement, after Steve got up and stepped out in the hall to stretch his legs, Kayla dried her eyes and turned back to Tripp.

"So, I know that Steve called you first for a reason. This is the first time in two days he's been okay leaving me alone in a room."

"Since technically you're not alone? And with a fellow big-brained MD to keep you company?"

"Sounds about right," she said with a sad smile.

"I don't want you getting caught up in that, though, Tripp."

"What do you mean caught up?" Tripp asked.

"I mean I don't want you feeling pressured. Or thinking since you've got the training that fixing this somehow falls on you."

"I don't think that. But if you expect me not to help find a way to reverse this-"

"Tripp, you're in the middle of your residency and the son of Steven Earl Johnson. I wouldn't expect anything else from you," Kayla said, giving him a knowing smile before her face went serious.

"I just know what it's like when tough cases hit close to home. I've had to treat a lot of people who I love and who I'm close to. Even members of my own family."

"Yeah, I remember," Tripp said. "Roman and the pub tracheotomy?" he reminded her as she rolled her eyes.

"Oh God, I completely forgot about that. Or maybe I blocked it out."

"Why? You saved his life. And you showed how much of a badass you are."

"Okay, you're officially channeling your father now."

"Had to happen sometime, right?" Tripp grinned.

"You know I've had to operate on him before."

"Wait. On Dad?"

"Who do you think helped remove that damned chip in his brain?"

"Jesus. Yeah, I think I blocked that out."

"He and I weren't married at that point but-

"Still," Tripp cut in. "Feels like it shouldn't be allowed."

"I don't disagree," Kayla shrugged. "My point though-"

"Besides the fact you've cut into Dad's brain?"

"My point..." she repeated. "Is going over labs and test results, researching and trying to isolate whatever this toxin is, trying to slow down its effects, I'm fine with comparing notes and getting your input-"

"And I want to do that," Tripp interrupted. "Dad said you told him and John and everyone the other day to treat this like it's a case or another day on the job. I can do that, too."

"Tripp, I know you can," Kayla assured. "I just don't want you becoming all consumed. I know how easy it is to get to that point with someone you love and how easy it is to blame and point the finger at yourself if they don't recover and get the miracle you're after. I just don't want to see that happen to you. You understand?" she asked, getting a nod.

"I do. But you're gonna recover anyway so it's really a moot point, right?"

"Tripp..."

When he looked her in the eye, looking more like a little kid rather than a grown man, swallowing hard, Kayla mustered up as much of a positive outlook as she could and nodded and smiled, reaching over to tousle his hair.

"So the symptoms are upper respiratory, right?" Tripp asked, reaching for her wrist to take her pulse.

Shrugging, too tired now to fight him this go around, Kayla leaned back against the arm of the couch.

"Originated that way with the sneezing. There's also dizzy spells and headache. Fever started out low grade but it's spiked."

"Been taking ibuprofen for it?"

"Yep."

"How about fatigue?" Tripp asked as she nodded.

"Getting from the bed to the couch before felt like a 5-K," she admitted as Tripp frowned, dropping her wrist.

"Now I feel even crappier for waking you up, I-"

"Don't," Kayla insisted. "I needed a different set of walls to look at anyways."

After looking at the large clock on the far wall, though, she bit her lip.

"Kayla?"

"Yeah? What?"

"You alright? You just looked like you were a million miles away."

"Sorry, guess I was," she murmured before looking towards the door, anxiously wondering when her husband would walk back through it.