Title: It's Not the Plague
Summary: AU: Five is sick. Three takes care of her.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Dark Matter was created by Joseph Mallozzi and Paul Mullie. I make no money off this work of fan fiction.
Notes: A bit of fluff. Set between 'The Scoundrel Gentleman' and 'Juliet and Her Romeo' as part of a mini-AU series. Also, with the news of the cancellation complete, I had to write something lighthearted.

"How did I end up drawing the short straw," Three asked, noting how quickly everyone else was abandoning the ship to be on the station. Four hadn't even had breakfast, Six had grabbed something and left with Four, and he hadn't noticed Nyx. Was she even out of her quarters yet?

Two ate the last bite in her bowl. "Because you're the one planning on staying on the ship today."

"Not so I could play nursemaid."

"She doesn't have cooties, Three."

"No, she has the plague."

"It's not the plague. We've all been vaccinated against that."

She wouldn't get it anyway, whatever the sickness the kid had. Her nanites took care of things like that. He grimaced, mildly annoyed at how casual Two was about disrupting his plans. "I had plans."

"Just look in on her occasionally and make sure she doesn't need anything." She studied the pad on the table beside her and tapped something on it. "I'm not understanding what your problem is with this."

"I have things to do," he insisted, smothering a yawn. Number one on his list was to go back to bed. Number two was lunch, followed by number three, a nap. Maybe four would be another nap followed by five, dinner, and six, bedtime. He was low on sleep and would rather spend an entire day sleeping than being a nurse.

"Which include checking on Five." She glanced over at him with an amused gleam in her eyes. One brow twitched in an almost flirtatious gesture.

He reached for the last of the toast and the jam container, twitching a brow back at her. "Why can't you do it?"

"Because I have supplies to buy."

"I could buy the supplies," he offered.

"No, thanks. I've seen your idea of food supplies for a week. You bring back a huge bag of trail mix, a container of cookies, a couple boxes of booze and a pack of meat. No. Just fit her in between naps. It'll take a few minutes every hour or so."

"A few minutes?"

"Promise."

"Every hour? Does it have to be every hour?"

Her lips curved in a small smile. "Yes. She's mostly been sleeping the past two days. I'm sure that'll continue. It'll take two seconds to look in on her. Hardly any time out of your busy day of napping. Give her meds for any fever and there's some broth made up if she's hungry. Just heat it up. There shouldn't be any problems. She should be feeling better soon."

"Great." He sighed, seeing his wonderful plans of sleeping all day slipping away. "Guess I should make some coffee."

"There's a fresh pot for you."

"Who made it," he asked, instantly suspicious. He'd take anyone's coffee over Six's.

"The Android did. And there's still cream."

"Add more to your list. It's getting low."

"Already on it. I wouldn't dream of forgetting it." She pushed back her chair and stood. "I'll be back later."

The first time Three looked in on Five, after he'd had a long shower and a snack, she was asleep. The second time, after a quick doze, she was awake and staring at the ceiling. He stepped into her room, keeping a good distance away from the bed because no way in hell did he want to get whatever this crap was she'd picked up somewhere.

"Hey, kid. How are you feeling?"

She winced. "Like someone cracked open my skull and is pounding on my brain with a hammer." Her voice was nasally and husky.

"Is that better or worse than the last time you were awake?"

Turning her head, she stared at him with a confused expression. "What?"

"Just looking for a baseline here," he explained.

"Where's Two," she sat up and shoved the covers off. "It's hot in here." Her legs were bare and the shirt she was sleeping in was awfully short.

Clearing his throat, Three half turned away, glancing into the hall. "On the station. Where are your pants?"

"They're called shorts."

The phrase 'you complete moron' was implied by her tone and he glanced back. Sure enough, she was wearing something under the shirt. "I knew that."

She peered around him. "Where's Nyx?"

"On the station."

"Six and Four?" Now she swung her legs over the side of the bed and moaned a little. "My stomach hurts. Like really, really hurts. Ow."

"Everyone but me is on the station. Including the robot." He crossed his arms, studying her. She was looking pale and really sweaty right now. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and her cheeks were flushed. "Hurts how?"

"Are you sure? Because Four sometimes sneaks back. He's really quiet. Could you see if he's back?" She rubbed her stomach with a hand. "Owww…."

"You'd rather have Four here than me? Seriously, kid? You think Four has a better bedside manner?" He stared at her, a little incredulous. "Four?"

Five's nose scrunched and she covered her mouth with one hand. "I think I'm going to throw up." She scrambled from the bed and half lurched, half stumbled into the bathroom.

The sounds she made made him wince and swallow a sympathy heave. "Kid?" Three took a step towards the door and glanced in. She was crouched over the bowl, slim back curved and shoulders bowed. "Five? Are you okay in there?"

Sobs sounded, pitiful things that had his shoulders slumping in resignation. He had to go in there, didn't he? Two would kill him if he didn't. Probably the Android, too. Maybe even Six.

"Shit," he said softly to himself and went into the bathroom, kneeling behind her and slipping an arm around her waist to give her something to press against while she hurled.

"You are a puking machine," Three observed an hour later, brushing Five's hair back from her face then reaching over to flush when the sensor didn't trip to do it automatically. He wasn't worried about it yet, but if it continued he might need to call the robot back to look at her. She'd just reached the mostly bile stage, shuddering as she spewed. "I haven't seen this much puke since the last time I drank too much."

"That was six days ago." Her head lolled on his shoulder.

"You're keeping count?" He adjusted her in his arms, a little amused by that idea.

"Someone has to. You're an ass when you're hung over. I warn everyone if necessary."

"Thanks."

"Just stating the truth." She pressed back against him. "I'm cold."

Her body was mostly limp against him, the heat coming off of her far from normal. He felt her forehead, gauging her fever. She was warmer than she'd been an hour earlier. Her fever seemed to be getting worse and she was shivering a little. "It's just the fever. We'll get you back in bed with blankets in a minute."

"I hate throwing up," she whispered, then sniffled.

"Me too, kid. Me too."

"Wouldn't know it by how often you do it," she muttered, then lurched forward. "Oh, crap!"

"And now it's projectile. Awesome. How can one tiny girl hold so much puke?" Three tightened his arm around her waist and tried not to gag himself when the t-shirt she was wearing and his arm both became casualties.

This was definitely not what he'd had in mind for his day on the ship relaxing.

"Are you sure it's a good idea leaving Three to take care of Five," Nyx asked, stirring her coffee and setting the stick aside. "She's pretty sick."

"They'll be fine." Four said, leaning back in his chair.

Two smiled and nodded. "He's right."

"How do you both know?"

The two exchanged a glance and Two smiled. "Let's just say she couldn't have a better person taking care of her."

While Nyx was curious, it didn't look like they were going to share anything more with her as to why Three was perfect for the job so she decided to let it go. "Okay. What's in the box?"

Two lifted it up onto the table and opened it. Inside was cloth in a wild pattern and a much smaller box. "According to the records Six found, Five's birthday is coming up. Or at least the one they put down in records for her. I thought it'd be nice if we gave her a few things for it. She's probably never had a party. Might be fun."

"An excuse to party," Nyx asked. "I can totally get behind that."

"We could get a specialty cake from a bakery somewhere, or have the Android make one, double the icing of course." She opened the smaller box. "Some jewelry, a dress, and I'm looking for a new coat for her, something heavier than what she has."

"She'll like that dress." Four tugged the box over and looked into it. "It looks like something she'd wear."

Nyx thought about Five's taste in clothes a minute. "I saw a coat she might like. I can show you where I saw it."

"Sure. After coffee."

Four snorted. "I'm going to have to bow out of clothes shopping. I'm thinking of taking in a movie, relaxing."

Two frowned. "A movie?"

"I do occasionally watch movies," he replied.

"When?"

Nyx swirled her coffee. "We watched part of that horrible movie Three and Five were watching."

"But only because it was payback. You were all being obnoxious to Three."

A small smile lingered on Four's lips. "Perhaps. But I believe I will see a movie...and pick up some gadget Five will appreciate as my gift to her. I'll meet you all back at the ship later."

He left and when they were done with coffee, Nyx strolled the station with Two, heading towards the store where she'd seen the coat.

Three slung the t-shirt he'd pulled from Five's drawer over his shoulder. It looked like one of his, but he temporarily ignored the possible theft, kneeling and reaching out to peel the soiled shirt from Five. It was supposed to be a quick process. Take the old off and pull the new on and she could try to sleep awhile. Ten second process, max.

But she held the hem in a surprisingly tight grip for a girl who was too weak to get from the bathroom to her bed by herself. He'd carried her and tried not to be too concerned by how badly her body was shaking. As soon as the robot got back, he'd have her look Five over.

"Come on, kid. You can't sleep in a shirt that has yack on it. Let go. There's a clean one right here."

"No." She shook her head.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"That's not a reason," he told her.

"I only have one shirt on." When he shrugged, not quite understanding, she bowed her back out and looked down at her hands. "I'm naked under it," she hissed.

And then he understood. "Oh. Right." He already knew that because he'd been holding her for the past hour while she threw up. There'd obviously been no bra present. Most women he'd known didn't sleep in one and it wasn't a big deal. But it was. To her. "You don't have anything I haven't already seen," he tried to soothe, because there was no way Two was going to come all the way back here just to get Five into a clean shirt. Or Nyx. And the robot was still gone, too.

"You haven't seen mine!"

"We don't really know that for sure, do we? We don't remember. I could've seen them plenty of times." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say, but his brain wasn't as quick on the uptake as it usually was today. He'd blame it all on lack of good sleep.

She gagged and shuddered.

"Are you going to ralph again?" He eased back a little just in case.

Five shook her head. "Mm-mm."

Three considered her reaction and ventured, "Did the thought of me seeing your naked breasts just make you gag?"

She gagged again, apparently in confirmation. "Don't say that word," she managed.

"What word?"

"The 'b' word."

"You mean…breasts?" He smiled a little.

Another gag. "Eww."

"Okay. Would you prefer boobies?"

Gag. "Don't be gross."

"Boooooobs." He made sure to really stress the 'b's' too.

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe I am going to puke again."

No spewing was forthcoming, so he tried to get her to put the new shirt on again. "Come on. I won't look."

"Guys always promise that and they always look. Always. It's in your DNA. You told me that. You said it. You said guys are wired that way."

She had him there. He had said it. "I did say it, didn't I? Guys pretty much will always look, but I'm promising you I won't look. I'd turn around if you could manage it by yourself. Can you?" He knew she couldn't. She was too weak at present.

"No." A miserable expression crossed her face.

"Then let's do this, kid. Ten seconds. Shirt off, new one on."

She looked down at the shirt. "It is sort of gross, isn't it?"

"Sort of doesn't begin to cover it. We might want to just toss the shirt with the trash. And I promise. Cross my heart." He made a gesture at his chest. "No looking. At all."

"Do I get to hit you if you look?"

She looked far too pleased at that idea, but if it made her change shirts…. "Um…sure."

"Okay." She released the hem and started to lean over, then stopped. "If I lean over I'll throw up again."

"Leaning over helps."

Five glance up at him with a grimace. "Not in my recent experience."

"Yeah, well, you were crouched over the can, so it doesn't really count. You were going to spew anyway. Trust me. Lean over." He motioned towards him with both hands.

With a small sigh, she leaned over, the top of her head almost against his chest. Carefully, he peeled the soiled shirt away and dropped it on the floor. Taking the clean shirt from his shoulder, he worked it onto her and tugged it down, cautiously keeping his gaze high on the wall behind her. As he got it in place, she punched him in the shoulder. It was a tiny punch barely worth anything.

Maybe they should start her on weights when she got better if that was the best she could do. He'd have to suggest it to Four. Not to mention, if it was intended as a throat punch, her aim needed work, too.

"What was that for?"

"In case you looked," she said in an innocent tone, adjusting the shirt hem to her satisfaction.

"I didn't look," he protested.

"I had my head down. I didn't see if you looked so I just assumed you did."

"Oh yeah? Well, that was a pathetic punch," he informed her.

"I didn't want to hurt you."

"Hurt me…. Get in bed. I'm going to go find you a bucket." He paused at the door and looked back. "You assumed? I think I'm insulted by that."

"You said guys look. You're a guy." She smiled and he thought there was a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. Emptying her stomach seemed to have helped her mood a little.

He sighed. "Okay, we're going to have a little talk when you're feeling better about promises and who you can trust when they give you one. Which would be me." When she was tucked in bed, with a bucket at the bedside awhile later, he smiled down at her. "There. Good, right?" She wasn't looking quite as pale as before she'd thrown up everything she'd eaten for three days. Possibly four considering the volume.

"Sure. Whatever."

"Great. Then I'll want my shirt back later. After you wash it and disinfect it, of course, and didn't we have a whole conversation and a rule put down awhile back about sneaking into people's rooms and going through their stuff?"

Five frowned. "Not that I remember."

Okay, maybe it wasn't in recent days, but there had been a conversation about it once. He remembered it, although now that he was thinking about it, that rule about not going in people's rooms and looking through their stuff may have been directed towards him…. "Quit going through my stuff. Klepto."

"Like you have room to talk about stealing." She adjusted the blanket.

She had a point.

"And I didn't go in your room, go through your stuff, and steal the shirt. It was left in the laundry, so I thought you didn't want it anymore. I've had it for weeks and you didn't miss it. I'm keeping it. It's mine now. It's all soft and comfortable. It's the perfect shirt to sleep in."

"Well, you can't keep it. I want it back."

"You're the one who left it in the laundry. Anything there is fair game."

"I don't recall that being a rule. It's not on the posted list anywhere." There was actually a posted written list of rules in the laundry area. Someone kept scratching out the rules he added to the bottom of it. Probably Five, he realized.

"It's a rule on the streets. If it's just sitting there, you can take it."

He pointed at himself with both hands. "It's my shirt."

"That you didn't miss for weeks. Says something about how much you like this shirt, doesn't it?"

"I didn't miss it because I didn't want to wear it."

"Tough."

He started to argue further, but it occurred to him that he wasn't going to get anywhere fast on the issue. "Okay fine. Keep it."

"Thank you. I will. Are we still on for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Somehow I doubt you're going to want breakfast. We'll skip tomorrow and make it another day. Go to sleep. I've got some things to do. I'll be back in a bit. Yell if you need anything."

No sooner had he gotten his dinner together than she was calling for him, so he grabbed a tray, piled it all on it, and took it to her room.

"I'm hungry," she told him, pushing up to sit with an eager glance at the tray. "Is that for me?"

"No, it's not for you. I'm not giving you food. You'll puke it up." He set it down on the table.

"I will not," Five protested. "I'm hungry. My stomach is growling."

To be fair, her stomach probably was growling since she'd thrown up so much. "You can have broth. I'll get you a cup to start with and if that stays down you can have more."

"I don't want broth."

"What do you want?"

Her glance slid to the tray with his dinner. Her lower lip pushed out a little in a tiny pout. "That looks good."

"Puker."

"I'm feeling better. My stomach isn't even upset anymore."

"Until you get food in it." Stepping to her, he placed the backs of his fingers on her forehead. "You still feel hot. When was the last time you had medicine?"

"This morning. I think. I don't really remember." Her attention returned to his dinner. "Is everyone still on the station?"

"Yes."

She pursed her lips, then said, "I'll tell Two you starved me."

"I'm not scared of her," he told her, but just in case she did tell Two that, he cut a slim piece off of his sandwich and handed it to her. "That better not make a reappearance soon."

"Or what?" Taking it with a satisfied little smirk, she nibbled at the piece, frowning a little as she chewed. "What is this?"

"The last of that fake roast beef the Android made, with the last of that weird lettuce she picked up, a healthy slather of mustard and mayo and a drizzle of horseradish. And pickles. All on that surprisingly tasty healthy sprouted grain bread she said would lower cholesterol or something, though I don't know why she said that to me specifically." She'd actually set the loaf in front of him on the table and told him it was all for him and only him. He'd ignored the fake butter she'd tried to get him to eat, too. It had to be real butter or none.

"Oh." Her nose scrunched up.

"What's that look for?" Three sat and reached for the sandwich, taking a hearty bite. Now that was a good sandwich. When was the last time he'd had a sandwich that good?

"The mayo kind of ruins it. And the pickles. And the mustard."

"I didn't make it for you," he mumbled around a mouthful. "I made it for me."

She must've been genuinely hungry, for she finished the piece, dusted her hands together and crawled towards the end of the bed. "Is that pie?"

Three covered the pie with his napkin and laid his hand lightly on top. "Maybe."

"Mmm. Is there any of that chocolate pudding left?"

"No." He'd eaten it as a midnight snack, which was how he'd clued in to the fact that Five wasn't feeling well. Usually, she beat him to the pudding leftovers and this time she hadn't.

"Pie sounds good." She shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

"You don't need pie."

"I need pie, Three."

"No, you don't. You're sick. You don't need pie. It's not a need, it's a want, and you don't need it."

The blanket was dragged over and pulled around her. "I am sick, so I need calories to help my body fight the illness. Pie is calories. See? I do need the pie. If you don't give me the pie, I'll tell Two you starved me."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Nice try, kid. You should be in bed, not trying to con me out of a piece of pie." Picking up his fork, he uncovered the pie, held up the plate with the other hand and stabbed the fork into the pie. He cut a piece, put it on the fork, held it up so she could see it, and ate it. "Mmm. Good pie."

"Mean," she pouted.

"Best pie the Android has made so far." He wasn't lying either. This crust was pure awesomeness, almost as good as the one…. What? Three frowned as he chewed the bite. There was a memory there, scratching at the back of his mind trying to break free. He could almost hear a feminine voice murmuring, 'I wanted to surprise you.'

Five swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I'll cough on you," she threatened. Her nasally tone was getting worse. "I'm still feverish, which means I'm still contagious."

"Do your worst, puker. You already puked on me. A little cough is nothing. Besides, I've been in here all day. I'm probably already infected." He took another bite. "Shit. I'm probably already infected."

"Hmmph. My feet are cold," she complained, curling her toes a bit.

"Put some socks on and get back in bed. They'll be toasty in no time."

"Some sympathy would be nice," she muttered. "I'm sick here."

"Your cold feet are of your own making."

"Nuh-uh. I'm too weak to go get socks out of the drawer, so technically, they're of your making."

With a long, put upon sigh, Three went to her dresser and opened the top drawer. He was immediately confronted with a pile of bras and panties that had been tossed into the drawer.

"Not that drawer," she yelled.

"Obviously. It's the panty drawer." He snagged a pair, held them up and looked over at her.

She gagged.

"Are you going to ralph again?"

"Not if you put those back and close the drawer."

Dropping them back in the drawer, he closed it. "Which drawer has the socks?"

"Second one."

In which he found socks in all sorts of wild prints, leggings in wild prints, and some spare parts to some gadget. "Does it matter which pair?"

"No." Yet when he held up the first pair, she told him 'not those' and continued until he'd reached the last pair. "You'd better want this pair because it's the last pair in here."

"Perfect."

Three tossed them to her, then with a mischievous little grin, opened the top drawer again and held up one bra by one strap. It was white with pale pink dots on it. "Do you want one of these too?"

"Stop it!" Her cheeks were turning a shade of red now that he didn't recall ever seeing before. "Those are naked things, Three!"

"No, they cover up naked things." He dropped the bra back into the drawer. "This isn't a big deal. Everyone wears underwear. Well, most people. Though there was this stripper I met awhile back…."

Five pulled her socks on. "You're so gross sometimes."

"I did tell you guys are gross. That was in the discussion. It's not news to you."

"Whatever."

He went back to his piece of pie and was taking the last bite when she cleared her throat.

"I'll make you a deal."

"Yeah? What kind of deal?" This should be good. He wasn't sure what she thought she had to bargain with.

"I'll get back in bed if you'll get me a piece of pie," she countered. Her shivering continued.

Three paused, studying her. Would it hurt? She'd already had a piece of sandwich. "Bed first. Once you're all tucked in, I'll go get you one."

"Promise?"

"Sure."

She returned to the head of the bed and got back under the covers. With raised brows, Five said, "I believe you said something about promises earlier and trusting you?"

Three laughed and went to the mess to get her a piece of pie. It was only a tiny sliver, barely wide enough to be called a piece at all, but satisfied her so called need for pie.

Nearly an hour later, her fever was spiking and he was contemplating calling them all back to check on her. Her skin was hot, but she was shivering, and her body seemed awfully tiny and fragile. Emotions that seemed far out of place for the situation pushed through him and he pressed a cool cloth to her face and neck, trying to ignore those emotions because they were damned uncomfortable things.

"Come on, kid. You'll get through this."

"Cold," she whispered, rolling towards him so that she was on her side and closing her eyes.

Three shifted position so he could reach the cold water to refresh the cloth. "It's the fever," he told her, dampening another cloth and reaching around her to slide it under the shirt and onto her back.

She hissed. "Are you using ice packs," she snapped weakly.

"Nope. Plain cold water."

"Stop. It's too cold."

"Not until the fever goes down."

Five whimpered.

While it felt like forever, it wasn't long in reality for the fever to leave her after it spiked. Twenty minutes, perhaps twenty-five. Her skin cooled and as it did, she slipped into a calm sleep. He sat there on the bedside for a moment, watching her sleep and checking her pulse before getting up and starting to clean up.

"Three? We're back." Two put the supplies she brought in away in the mess and went to Five's room to check on her. In the middle of the hall was a pile of cloth with portable biohazard signs set up around it. She found Three on the couch, watching something on a pad. He'd made himself comfortable and Five was asleep on her bed, sprawled across it with her mouth open. She was snoring. "Three?"

"Hey." He looked up. "You're back."

"We are." She gestured to the hall. "Biohazard signs? Really?"

"Kid's a major puker," he explained. "Trust me. We might want to just burn all of that. I had to scrub my arm raw when she puked on me earlier." He raised his arm and pointed at his forearm. "It was disgusting. I had to clean the bathroom."

"I imagine it would be disgusting. How is she?"

He set the pad aside and sat up. "Threw up her bodyweight twice. Got chills a couple hours ago and then the fever broke. She's been sleeping since."

"You didn't have to stay in here while she was sleeping."

He hesitated a moment before replying. "She threw up a lot."

It wasn't a verbal explanation for why he'd stayed with her, but maybe, in a way, it was an explanation. It was as close to him saying he'd been worried about Five as he'd get right now, a bit of the softer side of him peeking out. "Has she managed to keep anything down at all?"

His gaze shifted a little to one side. "Quarter of a sandwich, a piece of pie…."

"Three. You gave her solid food after she threw up?"

"What?" He jiggled a foot, completely unrepentant in having ignored her orders. "She was hungry."

Two moved closer. "You're a sucker sometimes."

"Not. She just presented a compelling argument for letting her have solid foods."

Two crossed her arms and tried to suppress a smile. What on earth could that 'compelling argument' have been? "What'd she threaten you with?"

He shrugged. "We merely had a conversation."

"No, really. What did she threaten you with?"

"She was hungry," he repeated.

She laughed a little at that stubborn refusal to tell her. "You did remember that there was broth for her in the mess, right? All you had to do was heat it up."

"She didn't want the broth and to be honest, after getting a whiff of it, I don't blame her. It smelled like ass."

"Charming description, Three. It's chicken broth."

"More like chicken ass broth."

"You're exaggerating. It's just chicken broth."

"Nope. You go smell it." He picked up the pad and stood. "You done on the station?"

"I'm done. Go on if you want. I'll take over here."

"Yes, ma'am."

She watched him saunter out the door and stepped to it to watch him walk down the hall. Her gaze landed on the pile of cloth and clothes. "Biohazard signs," she said to herself. Only Three would think to put up biohazard signs like that. The Android would've just taken care of the items, as would, she thought, anyone else on the ship. Not Three. He dumped it all in the hall and set up signs around the pile.

Since Five was asleep, she went to the mess and got out the broth, intending on setting up a small pot to simmer so it'd be ready when the girl was ready for it. With a glance left and right, then back at the hall, she tucked her hair behind her ears, leaned over the container, and gave a cautious sniff.

She gagged from the smell, dry heaving for nearly a minute before she could get it under control.

"Hell, that's nasty," Two announced to the empty mess. Three was right. There was a distinct smell like, well, ass. She poured it down the drain, washed the container, and took care of a few things before returning to look in on Five.

Nearly an hour later, Five stirred. It was subtle at first. A slight shift of an arm, then a leg. A longer breath and a sigh. A clearing of her throat and sniff. "Where's Three," Five asked in a groggy voice. "He was here, right? I didn't imagine it?"

"He was here. He's on the station right now," Two replied, getting up to go to the bedside and sit. "How are you feeling?"

She stretched. "My head doesn't hurt anymore."

"Good. You want a shower now or are you good?"

The girl sat up. The shirt she had on was way too big for her and Two wondered where she'd gotten it. "Later."

"New shirt?"

"It's Three's," she said and yawned so wide that Two heard her jaw pop.

Oddly sweet of him to give Five one of his shirts to wear, though judging from the pile of cloth and clothes in the hall, there was likely nothing else of hers left for her to wear. "Did you get some rest?"

"I think so. I don't really remember much."

"What do you remember?"

She shook her head as if confused. "It being really hot in here. Then cold. Someone carrying me, I think? Arguing over something. A cold cloth on my face. An ice pack on my back. Was that him or you?"

Could've been either she was remembering for the cloth, but…. An ice pack on her back?

"I think I picked a fight with him." Five shook her head. "Or did I dream that?"

Two shrugged. "Three's got a thick skin. I'm sure his delicate man feelings weren't hurt."

"Did he go through my underwear drawer? I remember him going through my underwear drawer."

Two raised her brows at that. "Why would Three go through your underwear drawer?"

"Looking for socks. I think." She rubbed at the back of her neck. "I think I threw up on him."

"That did happen."

She scrunched her nose up. "Gross."

"He expressed a similar sentiment. Are you hungry?"

"No. I think I'm going to go back to sleep."

"Good plan. I'll be on the bridge. Yell if you need anything. Everyone else should be getting back soon, too."

The rest of the crew trickled back, stopping in to let her know how their days went. Three even returned sooner than she expected.

"Hey," he said, dropping down in one seat and putting his feet up. "I do not have the plague," he announced.

"Good to know. I did tell you you'd been vaccinated for it. It was in all our records."

"Not the plague plague," he explained. "The kid's plague."

She looked up and over at him. "Wait. Where've you been the past few hours? Tell me you didn't spend all this time in a clinic? The Android could've checked you out."

He pointed a finger at her. "Ahh, but she wasn't here, was she? It was simpler to go to a clinic. By the way, we might want to shove off. I may have tripped their system when the nurse insisted on a blood sample."

"Three."

He grinned. "I don't have the plague. Life is good."

Two made the announcement that they were leaving and checked to make sure everyone was back, while the Android joined them and set a course right as the station-wide announcement was made that a dangerous criminal was at large. "You're trouble," she told him.

"I may be trouble," his grin widened, "but I don't have the plague."

They jumped to FTL and the Android turned her head to look at him. "Not necessarily. This particular sickness has a forty-eight hour incubation period. You won't know you're sick for another two days if you've been infected."

He swung his feet down, grin fading. "Shit. Aren't you just Miss Rain on my Parade today?"

"Glad to be of assistance," the Android replied and returned her attention to the screen. "Inform me if you begin having these symptoms: sore throat, muscle aches, headache, nausea, fever -"

"Shit," he repeated and stood. "I'll be in the mess self-medicating with a bottle of whiskey."

"That's not medication," Two told him.

"Alcohol does have medicinal properties." The Android turned. "Good luck burning the possible infection from your body. Drink a big glass of water and take two painkiller before bed tonight."

"Already on it," he called as he disappeared around the corner.

The Android blinked. "But I could be wrong. You could be already infected and the signs will show up within a few hours despite the test at the clinic. Those tests are notoriously inaccurate and inconclusive."

"Is he infected," Two asked. "Do I need to prepare the crew for Three being sick?"

"I sincerely doubt him being ill will be much different from when he's hung over after a drinking binge and a bar fight."

She thought about it a minute and had to agree. "You may have a point."

"I know I do. Still, I'll check on him periodically to be certain."

"Thanks."

The rest of the evening was quiet. The sounds the ship made were soothing and Two let herself relax a bit. She went to her quarters and got ready for bed, but as she turned down the covers, her door chime sounded. For a second she thought about ignoring it, then answered anyway.

Three stood there, holding a bottle and two glasses. "Hey."

"Hey yourself. What do you need?"

He held up the bottle and glasses. "Self-medicating is fun to an extent, but more so with a partner. Care to have a drink? Everyone else passed and I'm not in the mood to drink alone."

"Aren't you worried you're sick?" She stepped back to let him come in the room.

"If I am, I am. Nothing I can do to stop it I guess." Setting the glasses down, he opened the bottle and poured a shallow draught in both glasses. "It's even the good stuff."

She took the glass. "What you did today for Five…. It was nice."

He shrugged. "I can be nice sometimes…and it had to be done by someone, right?"

"You're a softie at heart, Three. You deny it, but it's there."

"If you're going to insult me I'll take my alcohol and leave." The words were said with a small quirk to his lips that was almost a smile but didn't quite make it.

"We might need to discuss this soft streak of yours." She sat down and gestured for him to sit as well.

He sat and stretched his legs out. "I'm open to discussion, boss lady."

Two sipped the drink.

Maybe someday soon they'd actually have that discussion, discuss it honestly, and move that discussion into other areas, like what seemed to be simmering between them. But not right now. Now, they were going to have a drink. As friends.

It was a good place to be.

After a moment, he said, "Just FYI…. I think I have a sore throat and maybe a little bit of a fever…."

She laughed and reached over, touching his forehead with the back of her fingers. "Definitely warm."

He caught her fingers with his and held them a moment before letting go. "So after this I should probably go quarantine myself."

"Probably," she agreed. "But you don't have to go just yet. Finish your drink."

"If I get sick, will you take care of me? Nurse me back to health?"

"Do you want me to?"

He drank down the drink in one gulp and with a smile. "Got a naughty nurse outfit you could put on?"

"Can't say that I do."

"Shame." He slid his glance down her and back up. "You could do one justice." Grabbing the bottle and his glass, he stood. "Off to quarantine."

They were definitely going to discuss his softer side soon. She smiled to herself after the door was closed and went to bed.

At least he didn't have the plague.