"AXPRETTHCHCCHT!" Omi stuffed his face into his elbow in a vain attempt to stall the sneeze, managing only to keep from smearing the glass he'd just windexed clean. Aya and Ken politely went on as if nothing happened, but Yohji's head whipped around, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"You coming down with something, Omi?"

Omi could almost see Yohji handing up quarantine signs around his personal space. The lanky playboy hated nothing quite so much as being sick.

"Of course not," Omi sniffed indignantly, picking up his soggy paper towels and dumping them in the trash can. "It's just allergies, from all the springtime stuff outside."

"You DO sound a little thick," Ken commented, from behind the counter where he was fidgeting with the hot pot. "You want some Echinacea or something?"

"No I do NOT." Omi huffed, uncharacteristically surly. "I just want to finish getting these cases cleaned before we close and having my head in a refrigerator restocking all day hasn't helped my sinuses."

Ken raised an eyebrow and poured a mugful for himself, just in case.

"My precious hasn't been feeling too well either." Momoe commented, from her chair in the corner. The calico on her lap turned it's best pity-me-I'm-sick look on the four undercover assassins in the room, and got little sympathy for its pains. "He has the Bombay Cat Flu."

"The What?" Yohji asked, darting a glance at the Weiß member who shared the same name. Even Aya looked mildly curious. Omi, pretending not to hear, went on polishing glass with a vengeance.

"Yes," Momoe sighed sadly, delighted to have an audience. "It's going around to all the cats. It's not fatal, but it is very unpleasant. My poor boo-boo has been nothing but temperamental." She held up the cat to display its vicious and snarling disposition. The Calico drooped limply from her hands and yawned. "See?"

"Uh, yeah." Yohji poked the cat, who flopped bonelessly back in Momoe's lap the minute he was released. "Real scrapper you got there, Momoe."

"Hey Omi!" Ken grinned. "Maybe you caught the cat flu!"

"Don't be ridiculous." Omi muttered, over an armful of bleeding hearts. "You can't catch something from a cat. For the last time I am. Not. Sick!" He emphasized each word with a rattle of foliage, and Ken held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I hear ya. Geesh." Ken went over to have his cup of tea next to Aya, who compared to Omi was downright genial.

Omi arranged the flowers in their appropriate bucket and paused for a moment before shutting the glass door. Everything seemed so blurry; it must be exhaustion. Not as if his partners were pulling their weight around the shop these days! But it wasn't as if he was so tired as to catch a flu bug from a cat, even if it DID have his code name. He waved annoyance at the little motes of light hovering in front of his eyes. Why did they have to keep it so COLD in here? He was going to get a sweater on his break. Not that he was feverish, or anything. Honestly, Bombay CAT FLU? It was just coincidence, and even if he was sort of aching all over that had more to do with lifting heavy clay pots all day than… was that Yohji yelling at him? What for? Omi had every right to take a little nap. Yes, a nice quiet nap right here on the floor… that was tilting up to catch him…felt so nice and cool…

Ten minutes later Omi was stuffed in bed with a thermometer in his mouth and Ken hovering over him with a look of concern, radiating I-told-you-so.

"Quif lookinf sof damph sfmug." Omi managed, from around the thermometer.

"If you don't quit talking I'll have to stick it somewhere else." Ken threatened, raising his eyebrows.

Omi's eyes went wide, but he shut up quickly. Ken eyed his wristwatch for a few more minutes, then gingerly removed the small glass tube, frowning at the flash of mercury.

"I'm just TIRED," Omi began, but Ken shook his head and the thermometer, sliding it back in its stand on Omi's bedside table.

"Trust me, kiddo. You're sick. Shitty luck, but at least you can sleep through the next four days. Anything I can get ya?"

"NyQuil," Omi moaned, into his pillow, "And a handgun."

"Will do," Ken smiled, feeling compassionate. Omi did look as miserable as a sick cat and nobody else on the team was going to come near him. Aya wasn't the nursemaid type and Yohji, who had his moments, wasn't going to risk contracting something himself. "And don't worry about the shop, really. We can handle it for a few days." Ken shut the door and went on a mercy mission to make some jello. He was sure they had a dusty box or two of the stuff, behind all the instant ramen.

Omi, contemplating the prospect of the three of them managing Kitty in the House on their own, curled into a ball of shivering, aching misery and feared the worst.

"What the HELL is that smell?" Yohji stuck his head in the kitchen door, doing his best to breathe through his mouth. A pungent odor, like narcotic grapefruits, made his eyes water.

"I'm making Omi some jello, why?" Ken stood by the stove, spoon in hand and looking innocent.

"On the STOVE?" Yohji stomped in and snatched the pot from the burner, turning to dump it down the drain. "Are you nuts?"

"I just mixed it all together and cooked it… isn't that what you're supposed to do?" Ken's expression was a mixture of belligerence and confusion. "All the instructions were in English, so…"

"Guh!" Yohji turned on the fan, trying to dispel the smell. "Listen, I'll make the stuff if you just take it to him, okay? Last thing he needs is food poisoning."

"Fine." Ken muttered, flinging off his apron. It was one thing for everyone to just assume that he would be the one to look after Omi; but that didn't give them the right to criticize his methods. Like anybody was going to take care of Omi if he wasn't!"

"Well, young man you've got a bug but you'll live." Doctor Kawamura was a Critical agent who tended to any of Weiß's needs that they couldn't manage on their own. He folded up his stethoscope, and tugged Omi's blankets back up. "Just get plenty of sleep and fluids and have this young man call me in a week if you're not feeling better." The doctor gave a nod to Aya, and handed the red-haired swordsman a small bottle of pills. "See that he takes one twice a day."

"I will. Thanks for coming so quickly." Aya shut the door behind the doctor and poured Omi a cup of tea.

"Drink this." Aya handed Omi the cup perfunctorily and replaced the lid on the thermos he'd brought when, fifteen minutes ago, he'd arrived unexpectedly at Omi's door, Doctor in tow.

Omi, too stunned and sick to cause a fuss, swallowed his pill and tea obediently. Aya moved about the room, clearing space for trays on the bedside table, putting Omi's tissues and the TV remote where he could reach them, dragging a heavier quilt down from the closet. He went through these actions with the same businesslike air as if tidying up after an assassination.

"I ordered some egg drop soup from the Chinese place down the street, I'll have Ken bring it to you when it gets here. Is there anything else you need?" His voice was as neutral as if asking Omi if he needed a fresh supply of darts.

Omi, stuffed comfortably in bed, blinked drowsily. "No, I don't think so. Thank you." Omi frowned at the orange sweatered blur that was Aya. "But, Aya-kun, why are you DOING this?"

Aya shrugged. "Because everyone else is incompetent," he said, and switched off the light before shutting the door firmly behind him.