Whatever virus hit the team, it lingered. Although Face and Hannibal got slightly better, they stayed weak and drowsy. Both of them developed the hacking cough, and Face lost most of his voice, but neither was as bad as B.A.

The black man continued to bring up bloody phlegm, and his fever fluctuated from just above normal to almost-scary high. Stella spent most of her time with him. Murdock made attempts to help take care of the other two, but because they were not as ill most times he left them alone unless specifically asked.

He was eager to go out for groceries and to the pharmacy. Stella made him take her car when he did. She watched him through the windows as he would drive away, the intense expression on his face the same anxiety as when he was forced to stay in the house.

Once, after he returned, she met him in the kitchen and told him to sit down. He immediately complied, keeping hold of the plastic bags he'd brought in.

She sat in the chair beside him. "Murdock . . . I need to ask you something," she said.

The tone in her voice made him flinch and a wary cast crossed his face.

"I don't want this to sound disrespectful. I just need to know—"

He tensed.

"—I need to know if you're taking your medications. I've been so focused on taking care of everyone else I haven't been able to make sure you're okay," she continued.

"Meds?" he squeaked with a relieved laugh. "Yeah. I'm taking my meds."

Stella didn't let him off so easily. "All of them? You're not running out of anything, or forgetting?"

"Did Facey get coherent enough to ask you to grill me?" he replied, trying to make it sound like a joke. It didn't quite work.

Stella sighed and sat back. "I'm sorry, Murdock. It's just that I've been so busy with everyone that I wanted to make sure everything was okay with you too. I know I'm prying and being inconsiderate.

"I trust you. I really do. So I'm really sorry I brought this up. All right?"

Murdock bit the inside of his cheek and nodded quickly. He was taking his meds! There were just times when everything in the real world was a little too much, even for the pills to handle—

"Okay," Stella said, evidently willing to drop the subject.

Murdock knew that if Face or Hannibal (or even B.A. if he was forced to admit it) had been in on the conversation, they would have known there was something else and pressed him further. But she switched subjects.

She continued, "B.A.'s still not doing great. I think . . . I don't want to worry anyone, but I think we should call his mother and Angel. I think they should know he's pretty sick, and I think they should come see him."

Murdock pondered this. "Hannibal's not going to be super happy about letting them know where you live."

Stella shook her head. "I don't care. B.A. needs support, and this is my house. I can invite who I want."

"He'd be worried that if they knew and someone got to them—"

"I know what John's worried about, Murdock. And I still don't care. I think this is important. Will you call them and let them know?"

He thought what she wanted over. It would go against everything that Hannibal had ever said and planned, but she was right; Bosco should have his family here. He decided to do one better.

"I'll call them, Stella, and I'll get them here."