"Hey, Max..." Cindy broke away from the Herbal mantra and looked at her directly over the dirty coffee cups stacked on the table. "You look like hell, girlfriend..."

"Gee, thanks." She muttered in response, rubbing her forehead. "I'm just tired of listening to the two of you."

Herbal stopped his monologue, staring closely at the Manticore escapee. "Oh, man, you beginning to look like yesterday's meat market rejects."

"Thanks to you too." Max mumbled. Reaching into her pocket she dumped a handful of bills on the table. "Tell Normal I'm gone for the day. Coffee's on me."

"You take care, okay?" Original Cindy yelled after her as Max straddled her bike, wiping her sweaty forehead.

"Yah, sure..." The woman disappeared into the labyrinth of alleyways and streets; weaving in and out of the makeshift stalls and shops that cluttered the once-spacious streets.

************

"Max?" Logan pushed his wheelchair back from the door as she leaned wearily on the doorframe, her hand rubbing her abdomen. "You look..."

"Sick, yah - I've heard that." Walking her bike in past him, she let out a loud sigh. "I'm not doing too good and I figured that if there were any problems..."

"I hear you." Logan zipped up alongside her as she propped the bike up against the far wall. "Let me get the thermometer and you lie down on the couch. I haven't heard about anything serious racing around the general public, but..."

"But..." Max lowered herself onto the thick plush couch, tossing her jacket across the room towards a chair - which it missed.

She never missed. Unless she wanted to.

Her head flopped back on the pillow as Logan spun back into the room. He glanced towards the leather jacket on the floor before waving the thermometer in front of her.

"Two minutes. No more, no less. And No Talking." She heard the capitals
as he
spoke. "And don't even think about moving off that couch."

Crossing her arms defiantly she lay there, bobbing the thermometer up
and
down between her lips as Logan wheeled over to the fallen jacket.
Picking it
up, he tossed it over the chair she had originally aimed for.

"You must be sick. Can't remember the last time you ever..." His voice
trailed off as he stared down at her.

"Whuf?" Max burbled through clenched lips. Tugging self-consciously at
her
gray t-shirt, she frowned. "Whuttamaffer?"

"Look." Logan ran a finger along one exposed arm. "When did you get
these?"
He tapped one red bump, then another.

The thermometer bobbled as he waited for an answer. Finally he reached
up and
plucked it free.

"I don't know. I don't check my arms for bumps, ya know?" Scratching
her arm,
she sat up. "Besides, it's not like..."

"Chicken Pox."

"What?" Her mouth fell open.

"You... have chicken pox." Logan announced, a bit of a smug smile on
his
face. "Don't tell me you never heard of it."

"It's a childhood disease." Max ran her nails over her arm again. "I
was
vaccinated against all of that..."

"Ah, but a new variant came out two years ago." Logan wheeled over to
his
computer station, tapping eagerly on the keyboard. "Special shots were
available at all the free clinics..."

"Like I listened?"

"I rest my case." Picking up the phone, he dialed a familiar number.
"Yes, I
need some calamine lotion and Epsom salts sent to..." He droned off his
address to the waiting drugstore attendant. "ASAP, please..." Before
the
other line had clicked free he had tapped another number out on the
keypad.
"Yes, Doctor Brunstein? I have a problem..."

Getting up from the couch Max walked around the table, reaching for her
leather jacket. Glancing down at her arms, she let out a low whistle at
the
sight of a growing number of small reddish bumps covering almost every
inch
of open skin.

"And where do you think you're going?" Logan spun around, free of the
telephone. "I'm having some medication sent up to break the worst of it
- but
you're highly contagious and can't go anywhere..."

"Oh, right..." Max snapped back. "I have to work, and..."

"And you're going to give it to anyone else who's not inoculated."
Logan
smiled. "I think you're going to call into work and tell them that
you're out
of bounds for at least a week."

"A week?" She squeaked, the sound unfamiliar to her own ears.

"Or maybe two." His eyes twinkled with laughter.

"Two?" Her voice went even higher. "Logan, if this is some sort of
stunt..."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger." He came closer. "Lift up your shirt."

"What?"

"Max, lift up your shirt." Adjusting his glasses, he smiled. "Work with
me
here..."

Slowly lifting her shirt up, she stared down at the spreading rash.
"Tell me
you can fix this."

"Not this time." Reaching out, he grabbed her hand as she went to
scratch her
stomach. "And don't do that. Last thing you need is an infection."

"But it itches..." Max whined.

"Oh, you have no idea..." Logan let go of her hand. "This is going to
be
interesting..."

The delivery boy arrived within the hour with Logan's requests, a bit
confused at the young woman screaming in the far room as the
wheelchair-bound
man paid him quickly, with a fat tip.

"Okay, clothes off." Spinning into the far room, Logan waved a thick
bag of
Epsom salts in the air. "I'll get the water running..."

"Excuse ME?" The icy words snapped across his face. "I don't think..."

Bringing his chair to a sudden stop, Cale stared at her. "You can't
afford to
rip those blisters open. A hot bath in Epsom salts will take the worst
of the
itching out. Then we'll use calamine lotion." He couldn't help smiling.
"And
if you're really good, I'll scout out some ice cream for your sore
throat."

He barely ducked in time as the first boot soared past his head.

He didn't escape the second.

As the bathroom door slammed shut behind her, he wheeled back to his
computer
station; a smug grin on his face. And an aching shoulder where the boot
had
left a sizable imprint on his skin.

Lips in full pout mode, Max lay in the tub; fully immersed in the hot
water.
Lifting one hand out of the salty liquid she studied the small red
bumps.

"Chicken pox." She groaned. Sinking further down into the tub she
smiled. "On
the other hand, I can get used to lots of hot baths like this..."

Logan had thoughtfully left a thick white bathrobe hanging on the
inside of
the door, slyly swiping all of her other clothing the second he had
heard her
splash down in the tub. Bereft of all other choices, she dried off and
reached for the plush robe.

"Hey..." Logan looked over his glasses, putting the file he had been
studying
down on the computer table. "Feel a bit better?"

"A bit." She mumbled. "Still feel pretty lousy..."

"Well, the doctor says that if you take these you'll be up and around
in a
day or so..." He gestured to the pill bottle sitting on the kitchen
counter.
"Knock it out of your system soon enough."

"Not two weeks?" Max rasped, feeling her throat begin to ache.

"Not if you behave yourself." He smiled. "Take the pill and I'll be
right
there..."

Swishing the pill around in her mouth, she swallowed it as well as a
long
mouthful of water.

"My throat does hurt... a little bit..." She turned around to see Logan
sitting there with a large bottle of pink lotion.

"Put this all over your body... your skin... wherever the rash is..."
He
stumbled over the words a bit, causing her to smile. "It'll stop the
itching
for a bit. And I have plenty of salt and lotion, so you'll be fine."

"Thanks." Sweeping by him she headed for the spare bedroom where she
usually
crashed when she stayed overnight. "I'll call you in a few minutes to
do my
back."

Logan's shocked expression as she shut the door was almost worth the
constant
itching.

A scant two minutes later he heard a small voice. "Come on in - I need
you
now."

Shaking off the various thoughts racing through his head, Cale wheeled
himself to the doorway.

She turned towards him, the robe delicately reversed; exposing her bare
back
as she held it up under her chin. "My back?"

"Oh. Yes. Your. Back." He seemed to have lost the art of
sentence-forming as
he continued slowly into the room. "Yes. Your. Back. Needs. Lotion."

Passing the bottle back with one hand, Max smiled. "You said all over.
And I
can't reach back there..."

Swallowing hard Logan took the bottle from her, watching as her hand
slipped
back under her chin to keep the robe covering her front. Squeezing a
generous
amount of the slippery substance into one hand, he paused on seeing the
silky
white skin canvas before him.

"Logan..." Max murmured in a low voice. "My back?"

Gingerly he reached out, starting at the right shoulder. Shrugging
lightly at
his touch, she relaxed as he began to spread outward in small circles;
one
hand dancing lightly over the bar code at the back of her neck.

Adding a second hand he began to work the cooling lotion all over her
bare
back, running from the base of her neck all the way down....

*Down*

His mind wandered where his hands dared not go; his eyes darting to the
small
indentation at the bottom of her spine where the crumpled sheets took
over.

"Logan..."

He snapped out of the reverie, realizing that his hands had stopped
their
movement and were now resting comfortably on her hips. Pulling back, he
smiled awkwardly.

"I'm done."

"You sure?" Turning her head to look at him, Max smiled. "Did you go
everywhere you wanted to?"

"Oh. Yes." His slippery hands skidded to get a firm grip on his wheels.
"I'll
go... go... get dinner. Yes, dinner. That's good." Turning around, he
bumped
against the edge of the bed, then again into the doorframe. "I'll see
you in
a bit. There's a set of track pants and sweatshirt in the drawers."

"I know. I put them there."

"Yes, well... I'll see you later..." Bumping his way out of the
bedroom,
Logan retreated to the relative safety of the rest of the apartment.

"Hmm..." Pursing her lips, Max smiled. "Could be interesting, this
chicken
pox..."