Jane had been to the condo more times than she could count. She thought maybe Michael had moved something around, made a change when they broke up, like a divorcée chopping off her hair, but the blankets were right where she remembered them, folded neatly in the linen closet. She grabbed two.

"Why are your blankets in the closet?" she asked, throwing one over his shoulders, cape-style, and draping the other over his legs. She also poured him a glass of water, which she handed him along with a couple Tylenol.

"That's where they go. They've always been there." He pulled the edges of his blanket tighter and winced as the movement jarred his ribs.

Jane came over and yanked the edges together, tightening Michael in a cocoon. "I know that's where they go. When you're healthy. But your blankets are unused, your bed is made, there's no soup or anything in the fridge. Do you have any idea how to take care of yourself?"

Michael rubbed his nose on the blanket. ""Yes." His voice was hoarse and his tone held a hint of a whine. Curled up in his blanket, nose red and hair messy, he reminded Jane of the child she was soon to have.

"No," she replied, mimicking his whine. "Here, take this." She placed a tissue box on his lap and rested a hand on his forehead. "You're a little warm, but the Tylenol should kick in soon."

Michael closed his eyes and leaned into her hand, sighing contentedly. When he felt her hand pull away abruptly, he snapped himself back to reality. "I'm so sorry," his words jumbled together as he rushed to get them out. "Your hand just felt so cool, and I wasn't thinking, and.." He hastily pulled some tissues out of the box and sapped them over his face. "Httsch! Hhhtxx! Httnxt! Hehh..."

"Stop holding them back," Jane admonished, smacking his on the shoulder.

He raised watery eyes to hers, before nodding and cupping his hands more securely over his mouth and nose. "Heechoo!" He groaned and blew his nose.

Jane patted his arm. "Better?" He shook his head, face pinched. Was it his head or his ribs? She couldn't ask. Time to move on.

She stood up, looked around, and clapped her hands. "Okay, so you've got tissues, blankets, and water. You took your meds. What else can I do?"

Michael shook his head again. "Nothing. Go shower and wash your hands or something. Get all my germs off."

"I will. I just want to make sure you'll be okay when I leave."

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

Jane scoffed. "Don't worry? I have to worry. You passed the three sneeze limit within the first five minutes I saw you today."

Michael chuckled, though the laugh came out cracked and caused Jane to wince. "I forgot about that. Sorry, I would have-"

"Not sneezed?" Jane suggested. "It looked like you were trying anyway, without much luck."

"Hey! I can keep from sneezing if I want to."

-(Narrator Flashback)-

It should be noted that Michael could not keep from sneezing he if he wanted to. And Jane knew this.

It was six in the morning, and Xiomara and Alba would be awake soon. Jane was attempting to sneak Michael out of the house to his car, conveniently parked three blocks away, before they found out he had spent the night. They hadn't had sex, of course, but that didn't mean they hadn't done anything her grandmother would disapprove of.

However, sneaking him out was turning out to be much more difficult than sneaking him in at midnight had been. A gust of wind had blown her door shut with a slam, she had banged her toe on the kitchen table in the dark, causing everything on the table to shake loudly, and, unbenowst to her, something was about to start making Michael sneeze like crazy.

They were in the kitchen, when the sound of footsteps caused them both to freeze in their steps. "Shh," Jane warned unnecessarily.

They were standing close together, listening intently to their surroundings in an attempt to hear if anyone was coming. Jane hoped her grandmother had just gone to the bathroom and was on her way back to bed, or her mother wanted to plug in her phone across the room.

Suddenly, Michael pushed her away. Gently, of course, but she was still taken aback. "What?"

He stared at her, or through her, she wasn't sure, for a couple seconds before turning away and sneezing toward the ground. "Etchoo!" By the way he blinked at her when he turned back, Jane surmised that he was as surprise as she was.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?" she whispered, slapping him on the arm. It was thrown over his face, keeping him from actually sneezing on his new girlfriend but not doing much else.

"I don't-huchoo-know!" he whispered back. Tears shone in his eyes and, as one traced the lower rim and slid its way down his cheek, Jane reached out and brushed it away with one finger. "Hehh…."

"Don't!" Jane warned.

"Hechoo!" Michael sniffed wetly and wiped his hand under his nose. "I can't help it! I don't know what's making me sneeze."

Congestion was starting to leak into his voice and Jane frowned. She reached a hand to his forehead.

Michael's brows knit together. "I'm fine, Jane. It's just sneezes."

"But it was three. That's the limit."

"I have no idea what that means!" Michael responded. His voice had risen a little, forgetting their stealth mission in his confusion, and Jane shushed him.

"I will explain later. Right now we have to-"

"Jane!" Both heads pivoted to the stairs at the sound of Alba's voice. "Estas bien? Oigo estornudos."

"I'm fine, Abuela," She called back. Glancing back at Michael, she noticed was pinching his nose again, breath hitching. He gave her a worried look. She grabbed his arm and started to pull him to the front door as quickly as she could walk quietly. "Go, go, go," she whispered, shoving him outside when they reached their destination. She made to kiss him goodbye, but ended up stepping back when he reared forward with another sneeze. "Michael…" she started worriedly.

Before she could finish her though, Michael kissed her on the cheek, gave her a wave, and pulled the door closed behind him. "Good bye, Jane," he mouthed through the window before jogging to his car.

Jane smiled, turning around with the intention to run back to her room and pretend to be just waking up.

Behind her, hands on hips and curious expressions, stood Xiomara and Alba.

"I could if I tried," Michael argued, but his voice didn't hold any confidence.

"Sure. Fine. Of course you could," Jane crooned sarcastically. "You've never been able to before, why not start now?"

In lieu of answering, Michael rested his head against the back of the couch. Jane's concern kicked up a notch and her stomach got tight. Was that it, or was it the fluttery butterfly feeling of her son kicking?

He rolled his head to the side to look at her. His expression was grim. "Thank you for the help, Jane." His voice was sincere, but there was a hint of something else behind the gratitude. Was it just a reaction to the awkwardness that had fallen between them she could hear? Was it embarrassment?

He turned his head away, and Jane understood. It was dismissal. As uncomfortable as she was in his house, alone with him, after what had transpired it had still been her that had initiated. Not Michael. He must still be reeling from their discussion at the hospital. Their understanding, as he had put it.

She nodded. "Of course. Feel better, okay?" When he said nothing in response, just continued to stare in the other direction, Jane walked out of the living room. She hesitated in the doorway, gave her ex-fiancée one last glance, and let herself out.

Michael, resolutely not watching her leave, heaved a sigh. This was Jane walking out of his life. This was what she wanted. And he would make it as easy for her as he could, because as angry as he was at the situation, he still loved her and wanted to make everything easier.

"Good bye, Jane."

end