Author's Note: This picks up roughly when Travis brings Wes back to his apartment. Someone asked about the fact that I have Travis in an apartment and not the trailer seen in the first episode, and I'm going to go with pilots are generally different from the rest of the show in some details. My example is Psych – Henry lived in a one story beach bungalow not 10 feet from a seaward cliff in the pilot, and in every episode after that, he had the two story house Shawn grew up in the middle of suburbia. The episode with the dog has Travis in an apartment, so I'm going to stick with that idea for now. As always, read and review, and STILL not slash. In fact, still no romance. Between anyone. In my world, lovebirds don't even like one another. :-) By the way, I have to snicker at the Captain trying to talk to Wes about his parents. I'm almost dead positive that Wes just had absent parents, nothing like what I describe, but if I'm right, some people owe me big bucks. Oh, and there is a possibly dodgy comment about his mom and dad when Wes is hallucinating – draw what you will from it. Reviews, comments, welcome!

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Wes wasn't kidding when he said he may not get sick often, but when he did, he made it count. Travis had never seen anyone go downhill quite as fast as he was witnessing Wes do, but then, Wes never did anything half assed.

After a couple minutes of fumbling, he managed to wrestle Wes inside his apartment, mostly under his own power but with the motor coordination of a punch drunk boxer on his 90th beer.

Wes sick was actually kind of amusing – he didn't drink a lot, and he never drank enough when he did to be able to get drunk. It made sense now, but Travis really wished he could figure out a way for Wes to be able to express some form of emotion other than sarcasm. Being so ill he didn't know what he was saying was probably about as loose lipped as he was ever going to get.

"Come on, bud. You're going straight to bed. And yes, I have fresh sheets on the guest bed, because like you like to point out, no one ever sleeps in it," Travis said, pulling Wes along with him down the short hallway, one arm around his waist and the other holding Wes's arm around his neck for support.

Wes was apparently a slightly vindictive sick person, because just as he managed to get Wes near the bed, he stuck his foot out and tripped Travis, sending them both flopping onto the bed face first with a muffled "oomph" on Travis's part. Wes simply laughed drunkenly, not bothering to move from his face planted position in the middle of the bed.

"Betcha think you're real funny, don't ya, with that little trick?" Travis couldn't help the smirk at the goofy, glassy eyed look on his partner's face. "Let's get you out of the suit. You'll throw a hissy fit later if I let you sleep in it, no matter how sick you are." He bodily pulled Wes's suit jacket off of him, with no help from his partner who actually seemed to be going out of his way to do as little work as possible right now.

"I don' wanna wrestle," Wes whined, smiling loopily as he pushed away from Travis as tugged a well loved black t-shirt over his partner's head. Wes never wore an under shirt for the suit shirts, so despite the fact that Wes was burning up right now, Travis knew he would probably freeze to death later without anything. Travis was really trying hard not to laugh, because honestly, Wes sick was like a little kid.

"We're not wrestling, I'm trying to get you to go to bed," Travis argued back. "Think you can handle pants on your own?"

"I have been dressing myself for years, thankyou," Wes snapped back, but all bite was lost to the comment when he smiled again. He carefully sat back up and swayed dangerously to one side, but put one hand out to brace himself, shaking his head at Travis when he lunged forwards to catch him. "I've got this." He carefully toed off his shoes, and Travis turned around to give him the momentary privacy to change and was rather surprised when Wes managed it without falling face first into the carpet.

After a minute of arguing with Wes that he probably shouldn't sleep on top of the covers if he had a raging fever that seemed to be affecting his higher brain functions, Travis (to his own surprise) managed to get Wes settled, and from the look on his face, just in time. Wes was no long for the waking world.

"All right. You, go to sleep. I'll leave water next to the bed and if you're still awake when I get back, I'll see if you can handle some Tylenol, okay?"

"Mmm…" was the only reply he got, and by the time Travis got back to the room, Wes was out cold, face buried in the pillow and blanket pulled up around his ears, pretty much burrowing into the bed. Travis could help the slight chuckle, and left the glass of water and two tablets of Tylenol next to the bed, and moved the waste basket closer to the bed, so if Wes did take a turn for the worse, he would at least just be able to roll over and not mess up the carpet. He turned off the lights and left the door cracked open so there would still be light if Wes woke and needed to find the bathroom.

Travis was actually smiling, despite the situation, and he felt minutely guilty about it. But it reminded him of all the times he took care of his foster siblings when they were sick. The foster parents usually had their hands full with the usually multiple kids running around and their day time jobs, so if someone else could help out, they were more than supportive. Travis really did think of Wes as a brother – but he was just so completely opposite of everyone that Travis grew up with, that he found himself floundering trying to make a connection.

Wes didn't do hugs, claps on the backs, or really any sort of contact. It was a fight to get him to finally do a congratulatory fist bump. He didn't have any stories of sibling rivalry, close friends, or really anything he was willing to talk about. Travis knew there were certain topics strictly off limits – like why he quit being a lawyer, and until recently, why he and Alex split. Wes didn't share feelings, and for a while, Travis thought it was something he had against Travis personally, but after the first couple of years as partners, he realized Wes was like that with everyone. He was distant and aloof and sarcastic because that was simply the way he was. A lot more of it made sense now, considering how he was raised (if you could even call it that…Travis had a mental note to hunt down Wes's parents one day and have a stern lecture with them about child rearing. With a baseball bat), but a lot of it was just Wes. In fact, this was probably about as much physical contact they'd had in what felt like months. Probably since the last time he had to take care of him, which was after he'd gotten shot…and Travis promptly stomped on that train of thought. No need to think about that. He had nightmares for weeks afterwards, and he didn't want to think about how bad it must have been for Wes. At least he didn't actually remember it…traumatic circumstances specific amnesia and all that.

Travis didn't mean to fall asleep on the couch watching highlight games for the Lakers, but he did. It took him a second to realize what exactly had woken him, because the TV volume was set fairly low.

Then he heard Wes's coughing. Not just normal coughing like clearing your throat, but like he was having issues breathing in between bouts, and he was instantly on his feet, bolting for the guest room.

When he flicked on the lights, the sight that greeted him wasn't pretty.

Wes was hunched over on himself, coughing harshly as his face turned red, barely managing to pull in a shuddering breath before it triggered more coughing. Sweat beaded across his forehead and his blonde hair was dark and damp, pressed against his skull as he shook with the force of his coughing.

"Shit!" Travis said, darting forwards in just enough time to put the waste basket underneath Wes's nose as he abruptly threw up.

Travis pushed his hand against Wes's forehead and cringed at the heat there. His temperature was spiking insanely high, and Travis kicked himself for not getting a thermometer earlier. "Damn, man. You're burning up. I'll be right back with ice, ok?"

Without thinking, he put his hand on Wes's back for comfort, but the younger man saw it as anything but that. Wes flinched, violently throwing himself away from the contact so hard he tumbled off the other side of the bed.

"Whoa! Hey, it's just me!" Travis said, holding up his hands placatingly. "Just me!"

Wes's coughing started up again as he rolled onto his side, and he blinked rapidly against the sweat running in his eyes. As soon as Travis came around the foot of the bed though, Wes backpedaled into the corner, chest heaving as he tried to stop coughing. "Don't…touch…me," he rasped out, throat raw from coughing and retching.

"I'm just trying to help," Travis said, staying where he currently was. "But your fever is getting really high, and we need to get it down."

Something about what he said, or hell, maybe it wasn't anything Travis did at all, but some long buried memory the fever brought forward. Wes looked absolutely terrified of the prospect. "No! Don't get the ice!"

"We need to get your fever down, Wes!" Travis protested, crouching down. In the back of his head, he thought he remembered something about Wes's dad and ice, but couldn't focus long enough to remember it. Wes's fever was high enough that he could see that despite all of his clothes being soaked with sweat, his arms were looking dry, and his lips chapped and cracking, which all pointed to dehydration and dangerously high temperatures. He had a fleeting memory of one foster brother who was dehydrated enough that they had to bring him to the hospital (where, to Travis's endless amusement he felt the need to communicate solely in binary) and that was the last place he wanted to bring Wes if he could help it. "Let's go."

"Don't touch me!" Wes shouted, voice small, pleading, and desperate, one arm outstretched, fingers splayed nearly touching Travis's shirt but not quite. "Please, leave me alone…"

Travis hated himself for it, but he really didn't have the patience or the time to try and talk to Wes through his delerium to convince him he was really just trying to help. "I'm sorry, man, but I don't know what else to do…" he reached for Wes's arm so he couldn't hit him, efficiently managing to snake his other arm around Wes while simultaneously maneuvering behind him, ultimately winding up in a bear hug with his arms pinning Wes's before he could strike out. It wasn't a strong grip, or a painful one, Travis made sure he was holding him just tight enough so he could grab him again if his partner decided to attack him in his delusions.

You would've thought he'd just shanked Wes in the kidney. Wes howled in terror, immediately trying to squirm out of Travis's grip even as Travis pulled him to his feet. He had no intention of making Wes suffer any longer than necessary, and his whole world was narrowed to the short walk from guest room to bathroom.

Travis thought he was prepared for anything that Wes might try – he was used to wrestling angry 'roid heads to the ground, so he should have relatively little issue with anything Wes tried.

Except it wasn't anything Wes did that made Travis's heart stutter. It was what he said.

Terrified, desperate pleading to his imagined father and mother not to hurt him. He didn't mean it and he was sorry, please don't…please don't…He pushed and pulled but with half the strength that Travis knew he was capable of, not hurting or striking out at him, just trying desperately to get away, though he did manage to elbow Travis pretty good in his face, up near his eye. Wes grabbed at anything he thought he could reach, pulling towels off the rack and accidentally kicking a hole in the drywall, before launching his head back so fiercely Travis couldn't stop him from cracking the back of his head against the mirror. When Wes suddenly pulled his feet up as if he'd stepped on something sharp and rocketed forwards, Travis immediately shifted his grip on his partner, one hand sliding lower on his chest near his lower stomach just to keep from dropping him on the tile.

And that's when Wes really lost it. There weren't even words anymore, just petrified shrieking, and the former tremors became spasmodic, violent shaking. Tears streaked down Wes's face, and Travis tried so hard to crush any thought of what could make someone like Wes scream like that. No, no, no, no….

Grabbing both of Wes's hands in one of his, Travis flung the shower door open and hit the cold water knob, practically tumbling into the shower with Wes who was now openly sobbing. If this didn't work, if it didn't snap Wes out of it, he didn't know what else to try, or even how he'd manage to get to his cell in order to call an ambulance. Travis wasn't big on religion, but damn if he wasn't praying right now.

The cold water hit Wes's face, and for a split second, he tensed and Travis thought he was about to freak out again…but relief washed over him just as the chilled water did when Wes heaved an audible sigh of relief, slumping in Travis grip as they both sank to the floor, the water beating down on them.

Travis sniffed, and suddenly realized it wasn't just water on his face. He hadn't even realized that he was crying. He wasn't even sure why. Relief? No, that didn't sound right…as Travis tried to pinpoint the feeling, he felt Wes shift, turning glazed eyes to him, blue eyes streaked with red and muddled with confusion as he looked around the destroyed bathroom. Anything that he imagined earlier was forgotten again…or buried.

"Travis?" Wes rasped, questioningly, and Travis smiled brokenly, releasing a shuddering laugh and a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"Yeah, it's me. You're not going to hit me again, are you?"

He could see Wes was lost at the comment, his blue eyes flicking to the bruise he knew was forming on his cheek. Wes blinked slowly. "Travis…are you crying?"

There was a momentary pause, and Travis nodded, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah."

A beat. "Sorry. 'Cause of me?"

Realization suddenly hit Travis like a train. He wasn't crying in relief, or in sadness. He was crying for all that Wes endured in silence - his misery, his fear, his memories he couldn't share. "No, Wes. I'm not crying 'cause of you," Travis assured.

Wes let his eyelids drop, and he leaned back against the shower wall, letting the cool water spatter across his face in relief from the heat Travis could still feel radiating from him. No. Travis wasn't crying because of Wes...

"I'm crying for you…" he whispered.

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And TA DA! My first finished multi chaptered fic for Common Law. I really did have someone who was so delerious from fever that they could tell up from down, real from fake and for some absurd reason no one understands, felt that they only way they could communicate with us was through binary. This means he shrieked, "ZERO ZERO ONE ZERO ONE ONE ZERO ONE….!" It was hilarious, if not a little concerning. Also, I do plan on writing another story with Wes's parents coming back, but I made need an idea beta for help. Any volunteers? J

Soap box time: since I've gotten several messages with this general theme – do not mistake my dislike for PWP slash fiction for homophobia. I'm friends with all sorts of people, heterosexual, homosexual, asexual, and lots of people others don't get along with at all (and it has nothing to do with their orientation). If you look at my favorite stories, there are actually a couple of slash stories there (I think), but I like them because they are actual romances. Not just sex stories for the sake of having sex in them. But here's a thought that my friend gave me while we were having this discussion. When he came out to his family, they were nothing but supportive. His little sister in fact decided to show her support by writing some pretty hot and heavy slash fanfiction. He said he didn't mind for the most part, but what bothered him was how it was done. He pointed out that a lot of the reason he didn't want to come out to friends was because he was afraid all of his guy friends would think he was secretly lusting after them their entire friendship and everything would be awkward between them from then on out (think of you around your crush versus your friend – you act totally different right? Especially if they know you like them but they don't like you back). PWP slash fiction makes it seem like that's all their relationships, and that they're not romantic at all, just in it for the sex. Sooo….that's my little rant on the subject. Again, I have nothing against it. I do have issues with people repeatedly suggesting I make all of mine slash fiction, or tell me that I am writng preslash and it's so obvious, etc. I KNOW what I'm writing. And no, it's not slash.