Chapter 7

In the Mercedes the next day after the Vegas blues showcase had burned down, Elwood had a meeting with the band and informed them of Sline's new appointment for them. A few of the bandmembers were uneasy at the prospect of staying on the most haunted ship of all time, noteably Murph and Steve, but the others liked the idea.

"It won't take long to get out there to Long Beach." Elwood and Matt checked the map and planned out their route while the others got into the cars.

After all the excitement of the previous night, Melody and the rest of the band had trouble sleeping. She leaned against her boyfriend's shoulder and closed her eyes while he did likewise.

Alan sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. To his right, his girlfriend Melody turned fitfully away from him in her sleep. The trumpet player had been startled and concerned when she had come home early from work the day before, admitting that she hadn't felt well all day. She didn't think it was anything to be too concerned about, but Alan had checked her over and found a few red marks on her throat. He argued with her to see a doctor, but she countered that it was too late in the day and that she wasn't going to sit around in an emergency room and wait while she could sleep at home and get well that way.

It hadn't been a very convincing argument but it worked. Alan was too tired to really argue with her, Melody was too happy to get to bed and sleep, confident that her ailment would disappear soon.

Only it hadn't. Alan had gotten up at the usual time to discover Melody wasn't awake yet, and the spots on her neck were more prominent. She had begun to run a fever, so Alan called their doctor.

Dr. Daniels had spoken to Alan on the phone, calling back about 10 minutes after Alan had left a message with the medical assistant. The doctor proclaimed it had sounded like scarlet fever, as there had been a lot of it going around lately. The trumpet player remembered hearing about scarlet fever before, thinking that it was fatal. Daniels had told him that it was true enough back in the old days when there were no medicines to treat it, but they knew what the disease was and how to treat it now.

The musician was told to try to get Melody to drink fluids whenever she was awake, which was difficult. Alan had tried to, but she kept resisting his efforts. Melody would turn away at his minstrations each time he tried, even trying to fight him when he cleaned the dampness from her brow.

It was going to be a long day for him. Daniels had offered to assign a visiting nurse to check in on them, but he'd declined. Alan stood up and lowered the blinds in the room, he picked out an outfit to wear for the day, then picked up the phone again.

'Elwood."

"El, it's Alan."

"Hey Mr. Fabulous, what's up?"

"I have a bit of a dilemma and I wonder if you guys could help me?"

"Shoot."

"I have a few funerals to supervise today and I need to put in an appearance at the studio to play for a band. The thing I want you to do is look after Melody."

"Why? is she sick?"

"Yeah," Alan put his hand to his brow and let it slide down the side of his face as he sighed, worry lines creasing his face. "the doc says she's got scarlet fever."

"Damn. Mack's got a shift today, but Buster and I will come to watch her. When do you need us?"

"Say about an hour," he glanced at the clock on the wall. "work for you?"

"Sure thing." Elwood rang off as Alan got into his suit and picked up a small can with a yellow top. Melody had recently acquired a betta fish and set it up nicely in a small betta bowl in a shady corner of the room. The fish had been hiding out in a little resin sculpture of a sunken ship, but boldly wiggled his little body as he came forward to look at Alan. As always, the trumpet player was amused that the fish always came out to greet him like a dog. Chuckling, he put a few fish flakes into the top of the tank, watching the fish eat them.

"You're too much like a dog." Alan had named him Rex in that honor. Melody had said it was a horrible name, but she had to agree the fish was remarkably like a dog. Even if she was cooking, the fish would float around in the bowl curiously, watching her.

Stirring his coffee, Alan looked towards the bedroom with concern evident in his face. Melody had only been sick a few times like this and though she always recovered, it never failed to scare him a bit. He attributed this to the loss of his parents, as his mother had a cold one day, it turned out to be something more than that, though he was not clear even now on what it was. One day his mother had been fine, the next she was gone. His father had been fading away gradually and he knew it had been coming, which had been a mild comfort.

Even so, Alan had a niggling worry at the back of his mind that Melody might not recover like she did before. It was only natural, he supposed. Diseases sometimes took odd turns and depending on the stricken's constitution, they would either recover or succumb. He didn't want to bury himself in what-ifs and drive himself crazy.

The betta fish swam up to the top of his bowl to take in a gulp of air. At first, Alan hadn't understood why they did that, then Melody told him that they had a special organ called a labyrinth that allowed them to take in air almost like a person did. She had bought him a book on bettas and he read it thoroughly, becoming a bit of an expert on them by the time he was done.

Melody made a frightened sound in the bedroom, prompting Alan to put down his mug to go in and look on her.

The room was dark, Melody was bundled up on her side of the bed. He sat down on the side and peered down at his girlfriend. Her brow was shiny with a film of sweat, her features were creased like she was in pain. Alan grasped her hand, which she pulled away from him in her delirium. She turned and opened up her eyes, giving him a glimpse of her fever-bright eyes.
"Mel? It's me." no hint of recognition. Alan wryly tried not to take it personally. "Elwood and Buster are coming here to look after you for the day. I've got to work."

She seemed to understand that, but before he asked for a clarification, the doorbell rang.

"I'll be back soon." he promised as she closed her eyes.

"Hey, how's she doin'?" Elwood greeted as he stepped in with Buster in tow.

"She's getting delirious," Alan gave off a sigh as he watched Buster come in and go straight for Melody's bedside. The adults followed him in, Elwood's jaw dropping open when he saw her.

"Not a pretty sight."

"No, not at all." Buster already seemed welded to Melody, brushing her hair back from her face, wiping her brow, talking to her. It was all Alan had already done and she was no more receptive to the teenager than to Alan.

The two adults watched the teen with Melody. "I wish I could skip work today."

"Nah, you go on, man. I don't go on at Willie's until 10."

Elwood had once coaxed the band into playing at the strip club and Alan still winced at the memory. He didn't like to be surrounded by half naked women while trying to concentrate on his music. Nobody else liked it either and thankfully, he hadn't gotten them to do it again. It was no place for Buster to be, none of the band's wives liked the idea of them playing at a strip club, so Alan guessed it had been a one shot kind of thing.

Melody didn't like the strip club either. She had managed to avoid the whole performance by wrangling some extra freelancing repair work from one of the music shops. Alan had to admire the way Melody refused to get into an argument with Elwood about the strip club and avoided it entirely.

"All right. You just have to try to get her to drink fluids, try to keep her cool until that fever of hers breaks."

"What has she got again?"

"Scarlet fever. She's going to be delirious for awhile, I think." he had done some research in Melody's medical books she had inherited from her aunt, and he knew the basics of the disease. Alan didn't understand some of the words used, but he got the gist of it.

"Leave a message on my office phone if she gets any worse or if that fever breaks."

"She'll be all right, Alan. Truly." they glanced over to see that Buster was tending to her and both had to smile. "Kid might grow up to be a nurse."

"And not a blues musician?" Alan chuckled. "Perish the thought, Elwood!"

Elwood gave him a grin and shooed him out the door.

Around noontime, Elwood and Buster had settled in for lunch after ordering at a nearby pizza place. Unpacking the bag, Buster asked, "Elwood, what was Melody like when you first met her?"

Elwood smiled at the memory as he pulled a chair out and sat down in it. "You already heard about our first gigs together and the run in with that guy who murdered her aunt. Mel had to lay low for awhile to recover from the incident. A few months later we were out touring again and she sure showed us the wild side! She introduced us to what body shots were back then."

"Isn't that drinking off of a lady?"

"Right on, kid. I don't need to know how you know that, though," Elwood admitted as Buster smirked. "anyway, she let herself go wild with any amateur racing events, showed us drinking games, all that stuff I shouldn't mention."

"Come on, El."

"No. You'll find out for yourself someday through your own friends."

"I'm going to have to take your word for that." Buster admitted ruefully as he tore the paper bag down the side and brought out two small white boxes. "Which one's yours?"

During the day, Alan thought about Melody when he wasn't busy. There was plenty to think about in terms of work, as one of the groundskeepers at one of the cemeteries was sick so they needed someone from a neighboring graveyard to fill in for him, the mortuary assistant at one hospital had messed up the transfer of bodies so the executor of the estate had to come in and resign some forms.

It had been a nightmare, but he had his most trusted assistant in charge and fortunately, the assistant was very personable and adept at handling the mix-ups. The assistant kept things well in hand and thanks to Alan's reputation as a tough funeral director who didn't take crap from anyone, there was no need to bring him in. Several mortuary assistants were afraid of him and his caustic attitude, the groundskeepers liked and respected him very much as he was very forthcoming and had a good sense of humor.

Without even consciously thinking about it, Alan had wanted to go and get Melody from the legal office where she worked and take her out to lunch. They would do that about twice a month and go to any little place that they liked. It was such a habit to him now and when he realized again that she was too sick, his worrying started up again.

At Greengrove cemetery, he walked among the rows of monuments and headstones, stopping at the foot of one that had an angel standing on it. The monument read BATEMAN 1875, the angel had her arms extended to heaven with a little smile on her chiseled face. Alan eyed the stone face with curling hair draped around her shoulders with a book in her left hand. It almost reminded him of the statue of liberty, but she wasn't carrying a torch or hugging a tablet to her bosom in one hand.

The monument and the angel were not granite but white bronze, something that was extremely difficult to clean. A few volunteers once had tried, but the difference wasn't significant. From what he knew of Illinois's history, the Bateman family had been one of the first settlers, a very navy oriented family, but with strong values. Back in those days, strong values had been more respected than they were now, Alan thought wistfully. He had been raised by parents who had instilled in him a strong sense of justice, charity, humor, etc.

"Hi, Mr. Rubin," the groundskeeper cheerfully greeted him. He was a six foot tall man, husky, bearded, with good nature in his face and eyes. "how's it going today?"

"Not bad." they walked back to the groundskeeper's John Deere 110, the bulldozer on one end already filled with dirt.

"Sure? You look worried."

The groundskeeper-John, always seemed to have an uncanny knack for knowing how people were feeling. He was exceptionally good at reading faces and Alan often thought that he had a superhuman ability about facial expressions.

"My girlfriend is sick," they walked over to the bulldozer side of the tractor and waited for the funeral to finish.

"Sorry to hear that. Seems like strep throat is going around this flu season." John drank from his water bottle and replaced it in the cupholder.

"She's got scarlet fever."

"She'll be OK. Have I met her?"

"I think so, once or twice."

"She the one that drives the Audi?"

"Yeah."

"Yup, I've met her," John smiled. "I don't think anything could drag her down, Mr. Rubin. She'll be well again."

"I'm glad you think so."

"You DO think so too, right?"

Alan looked lost for a minute and he shrugged. "She's so ill, John. I've never seen anything like this on her before. She's older now, so maybe..." he trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence.

"Hey! That's not the way a boyfriend is supposed to think!" John snapped sharply. "Don't dwell on the negative, just stay positive!"

"I don't mean to be," he reassured John. "I just see her there so sick and I can't help but-"

"Just don't." John told him quietly. "It'll be hard, but don't. Try to distract yourself or you'll go nuts."

"All right. I've got my assistant Jerry running the show for the next day so I can be there for Mel."

"Good then. Jerry's a nice guy."

"Nicer than me." Alan smirked as John started laughing.

"There was a little mix-up of gravesites at Pine Grove and all Jerry had to do was threaten to call you and the guy backed off," John lowered his voice a little bit. "the guy was really belligerent about the whole thing and when Jerry threatened to call you, he just knuckled under. You really do have a reputation as a shall we say hardass."

"Years of cultivating the hardass attitude finally paid off." Alan joked. "You've got no idea how many of our vendors just want to run off and give me a song and dance about it. Often times our secretary will catch them trying to swindle all sorts of crap out of us and she lets me deal with them. I like to put people in their places."

"Damn right!" they turned back as the funeral party was departing.

Elwood shifted in his chair and adjusted his tie as Buster mopped Melody's brow for the tenth time since they had been there. It was almost 5 PM and both were about ready to leave. The singer had to admire how much Buster had done for Melody that day, tending to her like a nurse would.

"You've got a real knack for caring about people, Bus," he had remarked. "gonna be a nurse?"

"No, I'm gonna be a blues musician!" Buster was coming along nicely at playing the bass guitar, much to Duck's delight.

"I'm proud of ya."

"Thanks, Elwood." Buster sat on the edge of the bed and talked to Melody reassuringly and that did seem to help.

"Come on Mel, you'll be OK."

"Want Alan..." those were the first words she had spoken all day.

"Mel, he should be home any minute now." Elwood spoke up. She didn't notice him and glanced at Buster.

"We'll go get him, OK?"

"OK..." she drifted into a disturbed sleep as Buster looked at Elwood.

"Think we should take her to the hospital?"

"What for, Elwood? You know the hospitals are packed with people this time of year suffering from the same thing. The nurses can only give her the care that she's already getting here."

"They have medicines..."

"This is a virus and it has to run its course, Elwood. Medicines won't help that."

"You been payin' attention in health classes?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Buster crossed his arms and Elwood decided he wouldn't tell Buster that his health classes consisted of sitting at the back with Jake, giggling over Playboy magazines before the Penguin caught them.

"A lot of kids are not mature enough to go to those classes." was all he would say. Buster narrowed his eyebrows in suspicion, then the sound of the door opening and closing brought them out into the foyer. Alan had come home and was unwinding a scarf from his suit jacket. He hung it up on a hat stand and put his overcoat away in the hall closet.

"How's she doing?"

"The same. She wants you."

"What?"

"A few minutes ago in her sleep, she called your name." Elwood elaborated on Buster's cryptic reply.

"Oh." Alan hung up his keys on the small key cabinet near the door. "Is she to any degree awake?"

"No. She's still delirious."

"Damn!" Alan hissed. "I want that part to be over! I mean, she doesn't recognize me at all!"

Buster started forward but Elwood put a hand on his shoulder. "You want us tomorrow, Alan?"

"No, I'll be here."

"All right. Keep us posted."

"Will do. Thanks you two." he saw them out and shut the door as the betta fish in his bowl leaped up playfully with a little splash. "You like teasing me, don't you?" Alan fed him his supper and went over to the kitchen to prepare his own.

Melody gasped in her sleep and sat bolt upright, her eyes wide open but unseeing. She got up and went into the bathroom, wiping her face with a damp cloth and combing her hair back so she didn't look like she had pillow hair anymore. The engineer changed her pajamas and got back into bed, wincing as pain flared at her throat.

"Mel?" Alan came into the room a few minutes later. "Thought I heard you getting up."

"Alan?" her voice sounded very fragile and his name was almost whispered. He took up his chair near her again and peered into her face, not liking how weak and frail she looked and sounded.

"It's me, babe."

"I'm too hot..." she complained, her eyelids still shut. "I'm burning."

"I know hon, I know," he soothed. When he was a child and sick, he had been given cool baths by his mother, which she swore up and down helped to bring him back to health. Alan decided he would do it now, standing up and turning on the taps in the tub.

When it was ready, he went back into the bedroom and stripped Melody of her pajamas, wrapping her up in a fleece blanket as she immediately began shivering. The trumpet player picked her up easily and brought her into the bathroom, pulling the blanket off of her and feeling like a criminal as he did so. Melody shivered more violently as he deposited her in the tub.

"Too cold now..."

"It's the same temp as the room," Alan explained as he began to wet down her face. The sick woman wanted to fight Alan off, then jump out and dive into her nice warm bed, but she lacked the energy and the strength to do it. She gave off a sigh and looked up at Alan as he continued to wet her down. "Come on now, let's play nice." he admonished as he wrung out the washcloth and began on her arms.

"Alan?"

"Yes?"

"Where is he?" Melody's eyes closed again and Alan paused, letting her left hand down. She was still delirious, wondering where he was when he was in fact right in front of her, but he couldn't make her see that until she was lucid. Even though she was delirious, he couldn't help but feel a bit put out that she didn't recognize him.

"He's right here." he answered, in hopes that she might recognize his voice. The trumpet player couldn't help but smirk a little bit at the situation, as at any other time he might have found it funny.

"I love him... oh, why isn't he here?" she moaned feverishly as Alan finished up and flipped the switch on the tub to let the water drain down.

"Mel, he'll always be there for you." it felt odd to refer to himself in the third person, but Melody seemed to take comfort in his words. He picked her up, dried her off, put her back in pajamas and put her into bed.

"Death would be better than this suffering," she said decisively, making Alan jump. "if I don't make it..."

"Don't talk like that!" he exclaimed loudly. "And quit being so impatient! I know you're sick, but you will recover!"

She continued on like she hadn't heard him at all. "tell my Alan that I love him."

Her Alan? She'd never used that term before. Odd the way that disease changed people-at least temporarily, he thought. Melody originally didn't like much in the ways of public displays of affection, and she had a low tolerance of what she called cutesy nicknames that drove her absolutely crazy. Alan made up all sorts of nicknames for her and she had threatened to retaliate if they kept coming. He wasn't stupid, he knew she'd do something nasty to him, so he had to stop with the nicknames. She only called him Mr. Fabulous whenever she was irked at him for some reason, and that was rare.

"I will." was all he could say, stunned.

The engineer went to sleep then, leaving Alan to turn in his mind what she had just said for a few minutes. After that, he checked her temperature, which was down a degree, making a tired smile illuminate his face.

During the night, he slept in the chair, waking occasionally to check Melody over. Her fever was on the wane, as it dropped half a degree around midnight. Alan treasured the thought that she might break her delirium and consciously recognize him before the day was out.
When morning dawned, Alan was awakened by the sunlight peeking through the blinds. He would have opened them up, but Melody would not be appreciative of that, he was sure. The trumpet player fed the betta fish, had breakfast, and returned to his vigil at his girlfriend's bedside.

The phone rang a few minutes later, making him jump almost out of his skin. Cursing, he put his mug down and reached for the cordless phone.

"Hello?"

"Alan? Dr. Daniels."

"Hi."

"How's she doing?"

"About the same. I put her in a bath last night which seems to have helped."

"Good. I've got several patients who are on the mend just because they had cool water baths."

Alan could tell that the doctor was trying to sound optimistic for his sake. "I have been discharging some, actually."

"Is there anything else?"

"Yes there is. I want to make sure you take care of yourself, Alan. Make sure you get enough sleep while you're caring for her."

"Becoming a dictator, aren't you?" Alan teased as Daniels laughed.

"Just doing my job. You both are my patients so I look after both of you."

"Are there any other suggestions for bringing her fever down?"

"Not that I can think of," Daniels sighed. "I've had a few elderly patients expire on me today and a serious case last night so I need some rest myself."

"I'm sorry." Alan replied, at a loss for anything to say.

"It happens in this job." he could picture the doctor shrugging. "I knew what I was in for when I signed on for it."

"True." he admired the doctor's fortitude. "I've got to go, so I'll talk to you later."

"I'll call tomorrow and check up on her." they said goodbye and hung up. Alan yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the crick he'd given himself while sleeping in the chair. The bed did look awfully appealing to him, so he clambered over to his side, giving a sigh of contentment as he relaxed back into the down pillows.

Melody turned over to him and proceeded to cuddle up with her boyfriend, giving an identical sigh of contentment. Alan put his arm around her, the fever still detectable through her pajamas. She wasn't sweaty anymore and she didn't seem restless now either, so Alan hoped that the fever was about to break. He pushed away a strand of her hair from her closed eyes and admired her for a long moment.

The trumpet player was reminded of what had attracted him to her in the first place, her physical beauty. She had dark brown expressive eyes, a full face, a nose that looked picture perfect on her, and Alan liked her lips the most. They were dark pink, sensuous-looking, just right for him to kiss almost whenever he wanted. His fingers trailed over the natural line of her lips, mesmerized by how they appealed to him. Melody didn't like to put too much of anything on her lips, preferring them all natural. Alan had to agree, as he didn't think that they were attractive to him when they had gloss or lipstick on.

Drifting off into sleep, he again was reminded about how blessed he was in his life to have her with him.

Melody turned in her sleep and opened up her eyes, glancing at the bedside clock radio. It was 3:30 in the morning and she didn't feel too bad. She was sweaty and tired, ravenously hungry, but it could wait until the morning. What she needed was sleep and plenty of it.

Turning to the other side, she was surprised to find Alan lying next to her, sound asleep. A small smile lit her face as she watched him sleep on, oblivious to her. The engineer reached out with a slightly sweaty hand, wiped the sweat off, and put her hand on his right cheek, trailing it down the side of his face affectionately. He did not stir at all, but she did not care at that point in time. Melody wanted to kiss him, but remembered she would likely transmit the disease and he'd curse her out later if he caught it.

Her smile grew a bit wider as she remembered the time she had indeed transmitted a cold to him, he caught it, and she had been royally cursed out for it. Alan had spent most of the time on the couch that week sick and as a get well gift, Melody had gotten him Rex the betta fish in the betta bowl. The trumpet player had often remarked on how much he liked betta fish and always meant to get another one someday, so Melody had taken that to heart and gotten him one.

Rex had a colorful personality much like his external colors, always very curious of what the humans were doing around him. The fish was a white albino crowntail with pink eyes, one of the rarest kinds of bettas. Melody bought him a one gallon bowl, a resin sculpture of a sunken ship, betta food, water dechlorinator, bloodworms, and the fish was perfectly happy. After he read the book and after he was well again, Alan had bought a mini heater for the bowl which made the betta even more happy.

Melody yawned and closed her eyes.

Four hours later, Alan felt the sunshine on his face that was streaming through the still closed blinds and took a look at his girlfriend.

"Mel?" he whispered. She opened up her eyes and looked at him with a little smile. "Wow, you're looking at me and I can't see any fever in your eyes."

"Shut up." she croaked, giving him a pout of indignance. "Have you no pity for a sick woman?"

"You must be on the mend." he chuckled and leaned over to kiss her, then reeled back at the last moment. "What am I thinking?! You're sick!"

"Your bedside manner needs improvement, nurse." Melody grimaced as she coughed.

"If you could have seen my bedside manner when you were delirious, you wouldn't be saying that." he retorted as he got up and plucked his bathrobe off the back of his desk chair.

"OK, I'll give you that." she agreed. "Still feel as weak as hell."

"Do you know what time your fever broke?"

"Um, around 3:30 this morning."

"Four hours then. You can't expect to jump back so easily after you've been so sick."

"I hate it when you talk reason." she sighed melodramatically, provoking a laugh from Alan as he went to the bathroom. "The fish didn't die from your neglect, did he?"

"Nope. I managed not to kill him." he called as she heard the water start running.

"Wow." Melody meant to get up and get herself something from the fridge, but she faded into sleep before she could even throw the covers aside.

When she awakened 2 hours later, Alan was sitting beside her on the bed with a book in his hands. He had introduced her to the classic literary collection he loved and Melody had to admit that some of them were very interesting. That day's title of choice was Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson.

"Adventure tale, eh?" Alan jumped.

"Don't do that!" he scolded her as she grinned and avoided a playful swipe from his left hand. "I'm an old man now and one of these days you scare me, I'll keel over and die!"

"I give you permission to haunt me then." she giggled. "How long was I delirious?"

"Ugh," he turned a page slowly, trying to remember when it was exactly. "About 15 hours, give or take."

"Yikes."

"You were quite incoherent, Mel. You kept asking where I was."

"Did I? Well, I was asking for you, as the physical manifestation of your good side came out from nowhere and took care of me," she joked, recognizing his unsettled look. "I thought your physical good side would be much smaller."

Alan lost the pensive expression on his face and laughed as she giggled along with him. "Are you hungry?"

"Ravenous."

"I'll get you something." he got off the bed as Melody picked up his book and marked the spot he was reading with her finger.

Two nights later, Alan and Melody were sitting on the couch and watching a late night movie on a local TV station. Melody had no objections to her boyfriend watching The Godfather, as Alan had been fascinated with it for years. He snaked an arm around her as a commercial break came on and she muted it as Rex watched them intently from his bowl nearby.

"So what do you think?" Alan glanced down at Melody who was peering over at the betta fish.

"I think I want to get him a girlfriend." she remarked.

"No fish sex!"

"Meh. It'd be interesting to breed bettas."

"I would ask where you get your ideas, but I don't think that I want to know."

"Nobody needs to give me any ideas; I've got plenty on my own." her eyelids sagged down a little bit.

"Am I keeping you up?"

"No."

"Sure?"

"Yes, Master Alan." she complained. "Watch your damn movie already!"

"Oh, fine, Miss Dictator!" he kissed her on the cheek and unmuted the movie when the commercial break was over.

Rex circled his bowl a few times, decided nothing was interesting to him anymore, and swam into the sunken ship. Alan looked down at Melody and noticed she was drifting off to sleep beside him. The trumpet player wrapped his arm around her and reclined back, allowing her to use him like a pillow.

The red rashes on Melody's throat were almost completely gone, she had been able to go for a checkup that day with Dr. Daniels and had been officially proclaimed on the mend. The doctor had run a full lab test on her, giving her some injections to build herself back up again. Melody tolerated the injections with her usual wry humor, making the doctor laugh. Alan had given a slight roll of his eyes, knowing that she used humor to deflect as well as to entertain.

She was under house arrest for the next 2 weeks, with strict orders not to overtax herself. Alan promised that she would behave herself and not relapse, at which point Melody was the one to roll her eyes.

Alan made sure she took her medicine that afternoon when they got back, and one of the medicines had made her drowsy, so he wasn't offended that she was falling asleep in the middle of one of the greatest movies of all time, he thought. The engineer never understood his fascination with an old movie, but she didn't trouble herself with it.

Melody snuggled up to him, burrowing into his left shoulder like a little child wanting comfort from a parent. With a grin, Alan welcomed her into his embrace and relaxed back with his arm around her shoulders. It was very different from the previous nights, much less anxiety-ridden, he reflected. At least now Melody was on the mend and able to move around the apartment without him watching her every move. He'd permitted her to get up last night, though she was very wobbly on her legs. Melody had told him that it was some slight muscle atrophy and she had to build herself back up. She stretched her legs a bit and was able to ambulate more, reducing her wobbliness.

Once more, Alan watched her sleep for a moment, counting his blessings mentally, and gave a contented sigh.

"We're here!" Matt announced as he shifted the car into park, startling Alan from his dream. "All out to get a refuel!" they had arrived at the designated lunch spot. Alan woke Melody up, who complained with a grumble, then got out of the car.