Riggs was really pale and shaking like a leaf by the time they pulled up to Roger's house. He'd dozed all the way here; occasionally opening his eyes and catching some of the concerned glances Murtaugh's been throwing his way. He felt even worse than he did that morning; he was freezing, his head throbbed, and he couldn't talk without his throat feeling as if it was on fire.

Murtaugh was going out of his mind with worry, even more so than before. Ever since he's known his partner, he's been energetic, and adventurous. Always poking fun at him and his old age, and making crazy but calculated decisions. But right now, Riggs was sitting here next to him quiet as a church mouse, barely moving, and that scared the veteran cop more than anything.

"Riggs?" he called out softly, as he parked the car in front of the house.

Martin grunted in response and pried his eyes open, rotating his head to look at his partner.

"We're here, think you can make it inside?" Murtaugh questioned, as Leo pulled in front of him and parked.

"Yeah," he breathed, trying not to strain his voice. Riggs sluggishly opened the car door and threw his legs out of the car. Pausing a second when he started to get dizzy and sway.

"Hey kid, you with me?" the question startling Riggs, who hadn't heard his partner come around the car and crouch down in front of him.

Riggs nodded, head bobbling around, cranking up his headache another notch.

"Okay then, let's go," Murtaugh reached forward and pulled a pliant Riggs up, wrapping his arms around the younger man's skinny waist.

Leo came up and walked alongside them, "Here give me they keys, so I can open the door, since you're helping him."

"Okay here," Murtaugh agreed fishing for his house keys and handing them to Leo. Once they opened the door and got inside, Murtaugh ordered, "Leo, go grab some medicine from the kitchen cabinet and a water, would you? Marty you want me to set you down on the couch or in the spare bedroom?"

"Umm…" he began throat scratchy, "The couch, but I want to brush my teeth first."

"Okay, let me help you get there," Murtaugh offered, turning them towards the bathroom, walking Riggs there and leaving him to it. Meanwhile, Roger busied himself by going to search for Leo and discuss a plan of action.

Leo was pouring himself and Riggs a glass of water. "You want some water?"

"No thanks, I think I'll have something a little bit stronger than that," Murtaugh started reaching in the fridge to grab himself a drink. "I'm worried, this is the first time I've known Riggs to get sick, since we've met last year."

"Wow, must have a strong immune system then," Leo rationed. "I mean I've been sick more times than I can count on both hands and feet—I get it, I'm old, but…"

"Yeah, he must be exhausted for him to be this sick," Murtaugh cut off his rambling friend once again. "The question is how are we going to convince him to stay in bed this whole weekend."

"It's definitely going to be a chore. I mean that kid's always going somewhere and doing something, to get him to sit down for a couple days and rest? That's a joke, unless he was physically unable to move..."

"You know—it's rude to talk about someone behind their back," Riggs interrupted, coughing, efficiently startling the two of them.

"OHH!" Leo yelped spinning around, successfully spilling his water all over the counter.

Murtaugh simultaneously turned around, hand reaching for his gun and another coming up to his heart, which was palpitating. When he saw it was just his younger partner, he let out a huge breath, "Man, what are you trying to do? Kill us old men?"

Riggs just grinned, leaning against the doorframe, observing them like a cat ready to pounce. If it wasn't for the white color adorning his face, the way he leans just a little too much of his weight on the doorframe, and the way he's holding himself, slightly hunched over as if he was in pain, you wouldn't be able to tell he was sick.

"What are you doing up? You're supposed to be resting on the couch?" Murtaugh scolded, ushering Martin out of the kitchen, Leo following with their drinks and the medicine, after he wiped up the spilled water.

"Well, I thought I'd see what all the commotion is. You know—go where the party's at," Riggs explained, voice breaking at the end due to the strain on his throat.

"Hey, less talking. More resting," Murtaugh commanded, pushing Riggs gently down on the couch, where the younger man relaxed into the cushions, looking ready to fall asleep.

"Here, here, here, take these," Leo handed the pills and glass of water to Riggs, who fumbled to grasp them.

"Yeah, take those first, then you can fall asleep," Murtaugh added, taking up residence next to Martin on the couch.

Riggs just grunted and complied throwing back the pills with a gulp of water, trusting his partner and his friend. He turned and laid his head down on the couch armrest and plopped his feet up on the couch next to Roger. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the TV and another of Leo's ramblings along with Murtaugh's steady stream of "Uh huhs" and "reallys." This was his family; they'd take care of his pain-in-the-butt self and always attempt to keep him out of more trouble. They cared and he needed people to care about him, especially after Vicky's death.

Murtaugh placed his hand comfortingly on Riggs' legs, letting him know he would be here to watch vigilantly over his partner and that it's finally safe for him to let go and rest.

And rest he did.

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