Oliver was awakened a heavy handful of mornings after with a small weight leaping around on his pillow. The boy growled, coming to consciousness he managed to flee from after being pulled by the bakery, the girls on the benches, and Allen devouring his attention until late hours of the night before he was chased out of the room with a fierce throw of a pillow. "I swear, if you crept into my room again, I am going to use this pillow to smother you."

Light giggling made him crack open his eyes all too soon. He stared at the fairy on his pillow, and muttered, "Is it not too early for you to be sleeping wherever you come from?"

"Uh, you mean the Realm of Spirits? We don't follow what you call 'Time' over there, so there is no 'early' and 'late' for me, silly!"

Oliver released a drawn out groan against his pillow. "It sure seems like it."

The fairy lifted herself from the mattress, and started to tug the blanket from Oliver's shoulder. "Come on! It's time for you to get out of bed!"

"You were just saying how there is no concept of time."

"There is for you! Sprout and bloom, Ollie! You have to go to the bakery!"

It seemed that Lila knew his schedule better than he did, and she was not even from his world! A heavy pressure had settled on his whole body, and he did not want to fight it to rise out of his warm bed. "I rather not, thank you."

His friend fluttered over his head, and settled in front of his face. She pressed a small hand to one of his flushed cheeks, and exclaimed, "What's wrong?!"

"Just...feeling a little nauseated."

"Laying around is not going to help that! Fresh air will!" When the boy kept his eyes closed, tempted to slip back into a doze, her squeaky voice proclaimed, "If you don't get out of this bed, I am going to start pulling on your hair!"

Oliver forced his eyes to open, and smacked his lips. "No, no, that will not be necessary." He gripped the edge of the mattress to pull himself from the covers. Lila put her hands on her hips, nodding approvingly at the progress. The heavy weight against the teen's belly dissipated throughout his dreary morning process, but the pressure clinging to his head lingered, telling him that the most loathsome part of winter was approaching too quickly as it always had done.

"I think I am getting sick."

Lila pointed to an unspecific spot across the room. "If you are going to cough and sneeze, do it over there, and not toward me!"

"Like I would purposely do that!"

"I know, but I'm just telling you so you can keep that in mind and not cough on me!"

Although he did not want to move fast, and jostle himself, Oliver hurried out of the House to avoid talking to anybody. A big dark cloud of gloom shrouded him as he trekked to the bakery. A coal tar even dared to creep on him, attracted to his sickness, and gleefully hissed in his ear. Lila cried in terror over the demon almost being the same size of her, and the boy swiftly smacked it to the concrete with a rough hand.

The fairy joyously announced, "We're here!" as if Oliver did not notice.

He opened the bakery's front door, and a warm gust of wind escaped into the cooler autumn air. It felt so nice and inviting compared to the bite of late autumn. He padded up to the counter, and tapped the new bell his boss must have bought. At the summon, Anabella emerged from the kitchen with a tray of cookies and a smile. "Hello, young man. It is a bit chilly today."

The boy put on his best smile, hoping it would make him feel better. "So you made cookies."

"What else am I to do?" Anabella chuckled, setting the plate on the counter. "Go on, have one," she gestured to the treats before turning back to the doorway. Oliver stared at the cookies.

Lila asked, "Are you going to take one?"

Oliver put a hand over his stomach. "I am not that hungry."

"Eat up! You probably don't feel good because it's been a while since you ate!" In a singsong voice, Lila added, "They smell good! I might take one for myself!"

Oliver gave in, taking a small cookie and nibbled the edges. He was well enough to detect that they were absolutely mouth watering, so he swiped another. His boss emerged with two glasses of milk, nodding in approval. "Nikolai will be here in a hour or so. In the meanwhile, we have a vanilla icing to whip up for a cake today. Can you do that?"

"Yes, yes, of course." The boy lumbered into the kitchen after tipping his milk back. He glanced at the second milk glass for a quick moment. "Is that yours?"

"No, I am expecting a visitor." Anabella slipped away when Oliver engaged himself in his work.

Lila flew off of Oliver's head as he spun around the kitchen, since the jostling and sporadic turning was shaking her small bones. "I like Anabella! She can be brutal at times, but she has a kind nature about her." She looked up at Oliver churning a batter into a white paste, expecting a response. He heard her voice, but did not listen to what she was saying. "Her petals are drooping, though, Ollie."

At the sound of his name, the boy made a noncommittal grunt. "You ought to stay here when Nikolai swings by. It is not as warm and pleasant in the basement."

Lila huffed, "Did you even hear a word I just said?"

Oliver thoughtlessly murmured, "Yes, yes, of course."

The fairy rose from the counter, pointedly glaring at him, but he never lifted his head from churning the icing mix. "Well, I'm gonna go and see how Bella is doing. At least she'll be more talkative."

The boy raised his eyebrows, and glanced around the room from her disappearance. "Bella can't see or hear you...?"

Neither had not returned by the time the cake was fully frosted. Oliver had even washed the dirty dishes, placed the strawberries on the edge of the dessert, and brought it out to the customer that rung the bell to pick up his order, yet she did not make an appearance. He had not realized he was smiling distantly through the transaction until the man gave him a bizarre look over his shoulder as he left. The baker snorted at his customer's reaction, but lingered behind the counter instead of keeping himself busy.

"I should have stayed in bed," he muttered to himself, and rubbed his forehead irritably as if that would scrub away the looming sensation.

"Oliver! Oliver!" Lila cried out, her cries of panic getting louder as she zipped down the stairs. "Come quickly!"

The boy tensed, spinning around with wide eyes. "What? What is it?!"

"Anabella is coughing again!"

"Lila," Oliver groaned, shoulders slouching, "She has been doing that. She is old."

"It was really bad!"

"All right then," Oliver decided with a heavy sigh. "I will see what she is up to." The fairy latched onto his hair as he pelted up the stairs. "Bella!" He hollered, and ducked into the kitchen. The living room was empty as well. The boy slowed to a cautious walk when he entered the hall leading to the back rooms. The hum of the bathroom light flicked off, and the door creaked open before him.

Anabella stumbled out with the back of her hand over her mouth. She looked up in surprise at the presence of her employee, but her eyes were sorrowed with fatigue. "I must...lie down."

Oliver took her arm into his, and patiently led her to her bed. The mattress was small, appropriate to her, and creaked with age as she settled. The elder slipped off her loafers, and shakily pushed herself to lean against the dark headboard. She focused on leveling her breathing in her most recent bout of coughing, and the intake was ragged against her raw throat.

"Do you need water?"

She raised her light eyebrows. "Oh, would you?"

"Of course." Oliver patted her hands that splayed on the patterned covers, and mustered a reassuring grin. Out of the cramped bedroom, he put a hand to his head again, and sighed. Lila lightly thrashed in his hair, but opted to keep quiet. More coughing leaked into the hall, so he fussed with the water jug for moment before abandoning it on the counter to hurry to her.

The old woman had tucked her pillows behind her back, and the top blanket stretched over her legs. "Thank you, thank you," she said, her hands trembling greatly as she reached for the water. Oliver kept his hand held up in case she slipped. A strange sensation tugged in his stomach. It could be because of illness, or perhaps it was instinct compelling him to help one who needed it.

"I can meet with Nikolai. You should rest for now, and recover."

"You will take care of the bakery, right, Oliver?"

The boy set the half empty cup on the nightstand beside the bed before clasping his friend's cool hand with both of his. "I am not leaving, Bella."

Anabella's cheeks lifted in a tearful smile.

~.~

~BOING!~

~.~

The tunnel was cool and quiet. One of the exposed light bulbs blinked weakly, but its buzzing was overpowered by heavy footsteps approaching. Oliver, seated on one of the benches, clutched a cooling cup as if it were a life sustaining force. The surgeon swung his arm, cracking his bag against the dying light, and giggled how the boy jumped, tea sloshing, from the raining shards of glass.

"We are missing somebody," Nikolai noted, staring down at Oliver through his buggy goggles.

Not meeting his creepy gaze, the baker slung a leg over the other, and tipped the last of his warm drink back before answering. "Anabella is taking a sick day. I will be carrying out her operations."

Nikolai made a drawn out noise of wonder, sending uncomfortable shivers down Oliver's spine. "You should get used to it."

"Implying I am not already used to it?" Oliver raised his eyebrows as two newcomers loudly trampled their way through the tunnel. They bustled by, carrying an oddly shaped body bag from both ends.

"Oh, they came with their own bag," Nikolai said. "How thoughtful."

With an apprehensive sigh, Oliver rose to his feet, and pulled a bundle of cash from his wallet that was stuffed in his trousers. "I do not know what is in there, but give them something for their efforts, will you?"

The surgeon cracked a wicked smile, and swiftly snatched the money with a large hand. "That depends greatly on what they bring me."

"Of course," Oliver sourly replied. The smell of chemicals wafting from his company made him even more queasy, worsened when body bringers flopped the great lump on the table. They swiped their hands on their pants, sharing a grin, and a curt nod. "New faces," the boy swatted a coal tar burying itself in his hair. It hissed threateningly, but did not retaliate as he pushed up the stairs.

"What this?!" Nikolai cried out. "What did you do to him? How do I work with this when his insides are like scrambled eggs?!"

Oliver closed the basement door with a distinct bang. He deposited his tea cup in the sink, and stuck a hand to his forehead, disturbing the settlement of the hair falling near his eyes. He tossed a glance to the untouched glass of milk and cookies.

Lila flew from the upper floor, looking more calmer. She called out a happy greeting to the teen before settling on his head. "She's asleep now. The coughing subsided."

"Thank goodness," Oliver softly smiled. "Now, what to do in the meantime?" His hand lowered and patted his pockets. "Oh! That is a marvelous idea," he told himself. He snuck to the back room, looking around. "Anabella does not use her back door...often."

"What's going on?"

"I am drawing an incantation."

The teen went to work, moving large cleaning supplies from the middle to the back foyer. He tripped over a wooden bat, spitting at its infidelity before bringing the chalk to the floor. A large teleportation sigil took a considerable time to sketch with its details that could not be hastily placed. "If I draw one in my room, I will not have to walk across town in the cold anymore." He stood, surveying his job, and looked up when a muffled ringing sounded from below. "So soon?"

The fairy leaped from her perch, eager to flee from the wave of dank air rising from the basement. The bell rung again as Oliver snapped the door close, and he stamped his heels on the stairs to tell of his arrival. Nikolai's cheeks were deflated with a lack of his usual smile, sunk from a tight tangle of his strong eyebrows. "I am finished...already."

"Already!" Oliver echoed.

"Yes," the operator hissed. "You would not happen to know any young muscle that would bring in the goods?"

Oliver hesitated, gripping the cooler to stall his answer. "When I do, I will send them to you."

"Boys...or girls, that are unafraid of treating death gently."

"I will keep an eye out for them," the baker sniffled from the chemicals covering the stench. He gazed at his reflection in Nikolai's goggles. "I am going to leave now."

Nikolai's smile returned, hidden behind his mask, but his scrunched cheeks told of his expression. He raised a hand, and wiggled bloody fingers in departure, which prompted Oliver to leave as promptly as possible. His strange, huffy laughter followed the teen as he scurried to the steps as quickly as he could with the cooler and the surgeon's eyes on his back. Snatching the keys off their usual hook, he shambled to the car, popped open the trunk, and set the cooler inside. He glanced at the door, contemplating whether to lock the bakery or not. Nobody may steal Anabella, but there were valuable mixes inside, so he swung the door open, and flicked the lock before switching the 'open' sign to its 'closed' side.

Lila especially liked traveling in a vehicle. She moved on the road faster than her wings could muster, and there was no wind blowing in her face as it did when she perched on Oliver's head. The teen, however, was not as delighted. That bright red monster posing as a truck threatened to plow Anabella's tiny sedan for more than half the trip. Apparently, Oliver was at fault, earning a drawn out honk as the other driver whipped around a bend, all for driving cautiously.

"Driving is such a drag!" Spittle flew out of Oliver's mouth as another road burner shot in front of him. His face was flushed with growing sickness, then anger, and his destination was only a couple of blocks from the bakery. The usual medical personnel waited beneath the bus stop roof, munching on their lunches. They squinted and blinked at the familiar car pulling to the sidewalk, as if trying to make sense of the world.

"Where's Anabella?" One of the doctors slurred, still suffering from a merciless hangover, based on the bags under his eyes. His burrito did nothing to help him.

"Who cares?" The woman snapped. "He's got the goods. Come here, kid."

Oliver opened the trunk, and reached for the cooler. "It may not be the best batch today."

The doctors exchanged a skeptical look as he set the cooler on the walkway. Louis snorted, "It is still guts, oui? As long as we can use them." He reached into his breast pocket, and produced a decent sized wad of cash. Oliver smiled expectantly as the blond held the money between his index and middle finger, then growing horrified as the man suddenly lifted the hem of his vest, and tucked the sum in his waistline. The baker shoved his shirt back into place with a scoff of disbelief. He tried scooting away, but light fingers danced beneath his chin, causing him to look up to the doctor's eyes. "I wonder how much that smile is worth on the market."

Oliver's face flushed, and he gently swatted Louis' hand away. "It is not for sale."

"Come on, amigo," the other guy flapped his arms. "Fifteen is not much better."

The lady took the cooler because her companions had not made a move to do so. "Let's go. We have organs to deliver, boys."

Oliver spun away from the strange people, escaping into Anabella's car. He started the engine, and pulled the money tucked into his trousers, and slipped it into his pocket. The teen glanced at the doctors, and stared at Louis swaying after his companions.

"Ollie?" Lila grabbed his ear, and lightly yanked on it. He snapped his head in her direction, blinking out of his gaze. "I have to wake up now. You'll be careful driving back to the bakery, all right? If you don't feel good, you better lie down or I'm going to pull your eyebrows out!"

"Please do not do that."

"Then get some rest."

She was only looking out for him, in a semi-aggressive way. Oliver's smile was twitchy, "We will see each other again soon."

"Really? Okay, I look forward to it!" His friend shimmered away in a clump of glittering dust, and the car was quiet once more besides the humming of the heat component.

He wanted to go to bed, but he had responsibilities, first. "Yes, yes of course." Oliver gave himself a shake, jostling his dizzy head and the sluggish feelings filling his abdomen. When he slipped out of Anabella's car in front of the bakery, he swiped the back of his hand pass his forehead, and claimed, "I did it without folding myself around a traffic light!"

The teen ignored the closed sign, not in the mood to attend to customers. He was certain Bella was not, too. He tried to inhale the eternal scents of baked goods, but his nose had clogged to get in the way. It was one of the worse tortures he went through! Then again, being sick was awful just by itself. "Every winter," Oliver grumbled, pinching his nose to relieve the stuffiness a tad bit. The previous winter was very mild, so the boy had gotten away with minimal sniffling. However, that current one had him wanting to be wrapped in a thick, hand sewn blanket from his grandmother, and coddled with hot soup. Of course, he would have to get the soup himself, but just a small hint of chill was enough to get him shivering. He stopped by the front counter, gawking at the empty plate littered with crumbs, and the glass with old milk lines sloshed on the side.

Oliver cleared his throat with an ugly cough. "Perhaps...Bella was hungry."

The floor creaked from above. "That should be Bella," Oliver insisted to himself. "I locked the front door before I left, it was still locked when I came back. Yet the milk and cookies are gone, so that is the feasible explanation." His fingers fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt. He wondered if grabbing the stick from the back room was an overreaction.

Oliver snuffled, and turned for the kitchen. His symbol waited for use, but he only glimpsed at it, going for the wooden bat. "Ugh, this thing is so thick! How can anyone hold it?" Another floorboard softly squawked, making him jump. "As long as I can give some bugger what he deserved, then I can work with it."

His footwear clanked on the hardwood floors, so he quietly slipped them off, leaving them at the bottom of the steps. With a great sniffle to clear his breathing, Oliver crept up the stairs, and paused at the top. He crouched against the wall splitting the living room and stairwell, tensing at the flurry of footsteps resonating across the back of the apartment. They were too certain and too quick to belong to Anabella. The teen was glad he brought the bat with him. The feet skirted back to the kitchen, and his hand started to sweat, earning small squeaks against the smooth material.

The intruder grumbled, but the words were too low to distinguish what they were, or who said it. He or she dropped something in the sink, and looped back to the living room. Oliver had no idea what the intentions of this invader were, so he glimpsed around the corner to see if they were snatching anything. He immediately moved back when he caught the stranger had his or her white clad back to him, going into the hallway, going closer to Anabella's room. The boy leaped up, skipping the last step, and pelted toward the intrusion.

At the sound of his quickly approaching feet stamping on the floor, the stranger whipped around. Oliver gasped, recognizing the intruder, but the bat was already coming down. The other teen dodged to the side with a neat motion, barely missing the wood clipping his shoulder. The baker stumbled forward from the force in his attack, and his high socks slipped against the bare floors. After nearly tumbling, he whipped around, still gripping the bat in a threatening manner, but strong hands grabbed the top, the thickest part of the crude weapon, preventing Oliver from swinging it again.

Oliver harshly bumped the hallway wall, shoved back by his own arms. "What the bloody-"

A warm palm clamped over his mouth. "Shh!" Allen warned. He glanced at Anabella's bedroom door, then back to the wide teal eyes staring, dumbstruck. "Bella's sleepin'." He moved his hand from Oliver's face to grab his upper arm. "Come on."

"What are you doing here?" Oliver demanded once led into the kitchen. "How are you even here?! The front door was still locked when I came back!"

"Came back from where?" Allen tugged on the bat, and the baker surrendered it. "Bella's car was gone when I came here, but I saw her movin' 'round through the upstairs window."

"Errands," Oliver said, swiping a hand under his nose. "Why are you here?"

"To eat! And also Bella wasn't feelin' well, an' she said she was layin' down earlier..."

"How did you get in here?"

Allen set the bat on the dining table. "Did y'think of the rear door?"

"Is that how-"

"No, that was locked, too. I crawled through a window," he announced with a proud grin. Oliver simply blinked at him. Allen tipped his head when he sucked in a labored breath. "You okay?"

"You idiot!" Oliver snapped. "What if I hit you in the head with that? You would be bleeding all over the ground now!"

"Um, yeah, but I'm not."

Oliver opened his mouth to retort, but shakily inhaled, and suddenly sneezed. He ignored Allen's outstretched reach, and turned for the stove. "Stupid..." he could not get a proper insult out without coughing.

"What'cha doin'?"

"Boiling water."

"Fer what?"

"So I can throw it on you!"

"What! Why would you do that?!"

Oliver sighed, rubbing his arms as he watched the stove's coils glow red. "I am making tea because you made me angry."

"You're the one that came at me wit' a baseball bat!"

"Maybe you should have not been sneaking around!"

"Well, fuck!" Allen said, and pulled out a dining chair to plop himself into it. Both glared in their respective directions.

Oliver sniffled again, raising his hands to cover his face. "Stupid," the whining of the kettle covered his words. He took it off its burner, and tried to tip it into one of the cups he set out, but dumped it over the counter and the floor. "Oh, blast it-" Sturdier arms wrapped around his torso, and pulled him away from the mess. Allen took the kettle from his grip, set it on the stove, and turned the burner off, which he had forgotten to do. The baker grunted as a hand lifted to smear his bangs back, feeling his forehead. "Quit it, you tosser..."

Allen exclaimed, "You're burnin' up!"

"No, it is just a sniffle," Oliver claimed, lamely wriggling away.

The other boy would not let him. "Why you runnin' around everywhere when you're sick?"

"Someone has to do it for Bella."

"Sure, but you gotta take care o' yourself, too!"

Oliver grumbled, "Just let me drink my tea."

"No, you gotta lay down."

"But my tea..."

"Fine, I'll give you your damn tea, just lay down, will you?!"

Oliver flinched from the other teen's raised voice. His eyes started to sting, so his nose was not the only thing that was leaking. "Don't be mad at me," he whimpered, even though Allen had just tasted his wrath a few minutes from then.

"I'm mad because I...!" Allen cut off, choking on his words. His grip on Oliver's shoulders lessened to a less painful hold, and slid down to his hands. "Just let me take care o' you, okay?" Without waiting for a response, he towed Oliver to the living room couch, pointing at the cushions. When the baker opened his mouth to dissent, he was promptly silenced by a firm push, and safely landed on the soft material.

"My tea..."

"Yeah, I didn't forget. Stay there!" Allen warned, and sauntered back into the kitchen. The sofa was so awfully enticing, and Oliver threw his legs onto it without another word. By the time the other boy returned with a steaming mug, he had wrapped himself in the blanket that dangled over the back of the couch, tucked into the corner of one of the arms.

"What is so funny?" Oliver spat at Allen's grin.

"You," Allen said, kneeling in front of the sofa to surrender the cup of tea. "You look like a fuzzy lil' burrito all wrapped up like that."

Oliver eagerly grabbed the cup, huffing, "Dork." He had hot expectations for the drink, so when he put it to his lips, and a bitter taste washed over him, he blanched, and held the mug away from himself. "Ew! What did you do to it?"

"I didn't do anythin'! I just stuck the bag in there for five minutes like it said!"

"Did you put any milk or sugar into it?"

"What, the bag?"

"No! The cup!" Oliver sneezed again, and the tea almost sloshed over his hand.

"I didn't know you had to do that!"

Oliver pushed the cup in Allen's hands. "Not too much sugar. I do not want it overly sweet."

"Shit, man, I didn't know there was a science to this," Allen grumbled to himself as he disappeared into the kitchen once again.