Freezing cold. Icicles hanging from the ceiling, frost creeping up the stairs, and for some reason Dec is presenting the show wearing skates this week, wobbling precariously on the raised stage of the Takeaway studio. He looks closer at the sheet ice under his feet, and flinches back from his reflection with a scream - behind him are monsters, white faced, black-eyed, all gaping maws with bloody, sharp, razor teeth, all aimed at him. He spins uncoordinatedly around to face his attackers, but on this side of the ice they're gone, or invisible. He reels, dizzy and disorientated, a scream clawing at his belly, into his throat, and tearing out of his mouth, a shrill plea for help.

"Easy, sunshine, I've got you!" Ant says, suddenly behind him, supporting him, his warmth a luxury.

Dec turns into him, seeking more heat, clutching at Ant's jacket - but the jacket comes away in his hands, Ant spinning away from him. He moves easily on the ice, beckoning Dec to follow. Dec tries, but his legs are leaden, unwilling, and he's shivering madly. He pushes himself along weakly, but Ant is too fast, and he becomes a small figure on the horizon just as Dec slips, stumbles, and crashes through the ice into the chill waters below.

Once under, he scrambles madly for the surface, but the hole he fell through has mysteriously vanished. He pounds at the ice with a fist, trying to break it, and kicks with his legs, but the ice is too thick and he's trapped, struggling to breathe.

"Easy, Declan, just relax," Ant's voice encourages him, soothing and reassuring, lulling him into a relaxed state. He exhales, watches the bubbles dissipate, and then sinks, down, down, down.

When he wakes, he is mercifully warm once more, lying on the grass in a meadow. He sits up, a little awkwardly, and looks down at himself in confusion, only to see why his arms and legs feel a little stiff. He's encased in leather, a motorcycling jacket and trousers. There's a bike next to him, and he takes the handlebars, bewildered.

There's a rustle behind him, then a growl. He turns, and his heart starts immediately to pound: behind him are hordes of those monsters from the ice studio, shambling towards him with their cadaverous features sharp and focused on him, their teeth glinting in the sun. He reacts on instinct and leaps onto the bike, revving the engine and speeding off. He feels like he's flying, but somehow he isn't getting any further away from his hunters, and now a new obstacle stands in his way: a ramp leading up to a ring of fire, and a steep drop on the other side.

His breathing quickens, and he swings his head wildly between the two evils he finds himself trapped between. He's not sure which scares him more, the monsters he's never encountered before, or the ring of fire he can remember being defeated by before. He knows what went wrong last time, he reasons eventually, he'll take his chances with plenty of throttle. He revs, and tries to find some moisture in his mouth to get his tongue down from the roof of his mouth. The flames are gigantic, now, and he can feel damp heat prickling at his temples and the back of his neck. He speeds forward, the heat growing and growing, consuming him, blurring his vision and making his limbs tremble and twitch.

He knows as he takes off, the flames catching at him and singing him, that he's made the same mistake again. He somersaults in the air, his bike flying away from him, and he comes down hard on his head and arm. He's insensate for a moment, then the pain in his head takes over, a pulsing, throbbing ache, punctuated by vicious spikes, like barbed wire is being wrapped around his brain and pulled tight. He wraps his arms around his head and rocks, tears leaking from his eyes as he desperately waits out the pain.

It could be minutes, it could be days, before a voice manages to penetrate his agony. "Shhhh, Dec, shhh. Come on, mate. I know you can hear me. I know you're hurting, I know you feel horrid, but you're going to be okay. Keep fighting, all right? Keep with us. Just focus on your breathing, and know that I'm with you, Yeah? I'll never leave you alone, Dec, I promise. I'm here." His hands, wrapped around Dec's wrists, are cool, a balm to his scorching skin, and he can feel Ant's breath at his cheek, then a tender kiss to his brow. He feels himself relax once more, the pain easing, and he unfurls sleepily, settling down, drifting down, the meadow grass sweet and cool against his back.

The first thing Dec was aware of were his eyes, which were glued shut. No, he realised after a moment, they were just crusty, gummed up with sleep. He lifted his hand to rub at them, his movements unusually clumsy, and eventually succeeded in opening them, revealing a tiled ceiling and a window looking out over a park he didn't know, the sunlight shining through it that peculiar colour and quality unique to winter mornings. He shifted in his bed, wincing as various aches and pains made themselves known. His head ached dully, but at a tolerable level. His joints were stiff and sore when he moved them, and there was a pinch in the back of the hand he had moved which, when he investigated closer, turned out to be an IV port, leading up to a bag hanging on a stand by his bed, next to monitors kicking out information his heart too much to process at that moment. The pain and the idea of the needle in there made him wince, and he tried to lift his other hand to try and do something about it, only to find his hand caught, held tight by fingers not his own.

The fingers belonged to person with a dark head, pillowed on the mattress at Dec's side. He'd recognise that head anywhere, from any angle; he's spent more time with it than any other, he reckons. "Ant," he said, and blinked in surprise when it came out as a hoarse croak. "Ant," he tried again, and this time it was louder, but with an added squeak. It was effective, though, as the dark head shifted and then rose, exhausted eyes blinking, then widening.

"Dec? You back with us?"

"Where did I go?" Dec asked, confused, though putting a few things together. "Am I in hospital?"

"Yeah, you are," Ant confirms, looking relieved. Dec could, now, recall some vague memories of being poked and prodded, but mostly what he remembered was pain and tiredness. He was still shattered, actually, which seemed strange seeing as he'd clearly just woken up. "You've been here just over 24 hours," Ant explained.

"Stomach bug?" Dec asked.

"Not as simple as that," Ant said, wryly. "Apparently, that rat we saw in Edinburgh, down in those vaults, wanted us to suffer. We caught a virus from it, and that stomach bug we had was just Stage One. Stage Two involved meningitis and encephalitis, for you."

Dec blinked, processing this new information. He frowned: Ant had said 'we' caught a virus, and he remembered Ant had been sick, too, the first time round. His frown deepened when he saw the IV stand behind Ant, and the line going into a similar port on the back of his hand, too. "You're sick too," he said.

"I just got some mild symptoms, this time round. You did your typical dramatic Deccy act, though. You've been really poorly, mate. Especially the last night ... it was ..." Dec watched Ant trail off, his shoulders slumping. He felt awful as he saw Ant bite at his lip, which he only usually did when he was really anxious or overwhelmed. Whatever state he'd been in, it must have been pretty frightening for Ant. He turned his hand over to grip Ant's tightly in return.

"Sorry I scared you," he said. "And thanks, for staying with me through it. I might not remember much, but ... I know you were there. I do know that."

Ant smiled, some of the tension in his shoulders and face fading, though the exhaustion remained. Despite barely having been awake more than a couple of minutes, Dec was feeling ready to sleep again. "Need to rest," he mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"I'll be right here, darlin', you go ahead," Ant said, and Dec grinned warmly at that even as he tapped a finger warningly against Ant's hand.

"You need to rest, too," he clarified, and shuffled over in his bed, ignoring the aches and pains that caused. "Come on. Gerrin." He could sense that Ant was about to make some macho, martyrish protest, and he tightened his grip with all the strength in his body, which may not have been much but, when concentrated I. His fingers, was enough to make Ant wince and acquiesce,

"All right, you little savage, I'm coming," the bigger man agreed, carefully crawling up onto the narrow bed and settling himself gingerly down, avoiding tugging at any of his or Dec's wires and lines. Dec sighed happily, and curled up, wrapping himself around Ant to steal his warmth and use him as a more comfortable pillow than he had woken up with. Satisfied, he, and his companion, fell swiftly into slumber.

Dec woke again at various points during the day. He was woken regularly by doctors and nurses checking on him, though they all seemed satisfied he was through the worst. When he was more lucid and awake, he found out more about what it was that he had suffered, and he felt almost guilty that, for him, it seemed far more like an unpleasant dream than a real memory, when for Ant especially, as well as Lisa and Ali, it had been all too real.

His mother and Dermott arrived at lunchtime, and both were very emotional on seeing him, pronouncing him far too skinny and thanking Ant and Lisa for looking after him so well.

Dec could see what they meant: he even felt a little shrivelled, after a fair time being so ill. Solid food was still beyond him at the moment, but he managed a bit of a protein shake and vowed to drink more the next time, catching sight of his wrists, which, already fairly slim (femininely so, Ant liked to tease him), now looking positively bony.

"My cooking'll soon sort you out," his mam promised. "The doctor says you'll be out of here in a couple of days; I'll stay and feed you up - or better still, you can come up north for a bit, head home and rest."

A little while ago, Dec would have jumped at that chance, desperate to avoid burdening Ant and Lisa. Now, though, he saw his best friends share a sad glance - Ant had been given a full bill of health and was currently waiting on his discharge papers - and remembered how, when he had been so very unwell, they'd been the ones to help, to reassure.

"Honestly, mam, it's fine," he said firmly. "I'll stay with Ant and Lise, if they'll have me. Dermott needs to go back to work, and you've got a million grandchildren who need you. I'm going to go home with them."

Ant's face broke out into a huge grin. "Of course we'll have you," he said, face creasing with delight at the restoration of normal practice. "We wouldn't have it any other way."

Two days later, then, Dec was released from the hospital, still a bit fragile, but all signs of the virus and the ensuing meningitis and encephalitis gone. His family, busy and satisfied that he was in good hands, had returned home, though not without making Dec promise to FaceTime every day to assure them that he was improving - and eating.

There was no danger of him not doing that, as he arrived at their house, chauffeured by a back-to-full-health Ant, to meet Lisa who had made every soup, broth, and gazpacho under the sun, ready and waiting for Dec to try. He let himself be fussed over by her and Ant happily, all of his reservations from the previous week completely gone. He could actually sense their need to fuss over him, too: he caught them watching him all the time, their slightly panicky expressions whenever he went off by himself, even just to the toilet, and their relief when he wandered back into their eyesight. Ant in particular didn't want to leave his side, sticking close to Dec even though he snoozed for most of the day on the sofa, or watched television and old, comfort videos with the sound down low.

That night, Dec stood up and announced his intention to go to bed early, thanking both of them for everything. Lisa gave him a huge hug, but Ant looked a bit shifty on his feet. Dec was familiar with Ant's protective instincts: even once he had been discharged and Dec was still in the hospital, he'd stayed around so much it'd been as if he was still a patient, reluctant to leave Dec alone.

He decided to do something to help Ant out - he knew that his best friend wasn't always great at asking for what he wanted, and he could see the signs that his friend needed to let his guard down a bit, but needed Dec's help to do that. "Lise, is it okay if I borrow Ant tonight? Just in case, ya kna?"

Lisa smiled knowingly. "Of course. Sleep well, you two."

The two of them returned to Dec's room, settling down in their pyjamas. Dec watched Ant fiddle with the covers. "So, you going to talk about it?" he asked kindly.

Ant shrugged.

"You need to," Dec coaxed him. "Look, I don't really remember much about that second hospital visit. I know you got me there, and I'm so grateful, but there's a big gap there which is just a kind of jumble in my head. I know I gave you a fright, though ... and if you talked about it, told me about it, it might help you relax a bit? Don't think I haven't noticed you following me about like a shadow." He smiled to show he wasn't annoyed, just concerned.

Ant shifted in the bed, biting his lip again. "It was frightening, mate. I mean, first time round, when Lisa found you, she was petrified ... but this was different. They said you'd be pretty sick while your brain was still swelling, and the meningitis was still there ... but I've never seen anyone so ill. You had seizures, flopping about like something possessed. And then your fever went so high, and you were so out of it. You asked for your dad ... you were hallucinating and screaming; I had to hold you down so they could sedate you at one point. You were shaking like mad, and you started crying at one point, calling out my name - you thought I'd left you. I don't think I've ever seen anyone in that state, and the fact that it was you - Dec, Declan ... I thought there was no way you could get better, you were so sick." His voice broke on the last word, and he brought his hands up to his face, holding them close to his eyes as tears obviously started to overwhelm him, though he made no sound.

Shocked, Dec reacted instinctively, twisting himself and reaching out so he was wrapped around Ant, hugging him tightly and feeling his hot, damp face against his shoulder. He held him like that for a while, feeling Ant silently sobbing against him. Eventually, he felt Ant take a shuddering, shaky breath in, and he pulled back a little to give him some air and time to compose himself.

Ant's face had that blotchy, red look people only get when they've cried horribly, and Dec rubbed up and down his arm, feeling guilt all over again, though glad he knew now exactly why Ant had seemed so shaken. "I'm so, so sorry I put you through that. Well, I'm sorry that rat put us both through it," he amended, getting a slight chuckle from his friend. "You know, what I do remember from that time - and I don't remember much - is that you were always there. Whenever I opened my eyes. Whenever I felt more scared than I'd ever been. When I thought I was falling into ice, or flying through fire - don't ask, honestly - the only thing that made me feel better was you. And thanks to you, I am going to be fine. Seriously, you're the one who helped Dr Oyenusi work out what was wrong! So, dafty, let's put this behind us. I'm gonna be here for at least a week, and you can do your protective fussing all you need to." He grinned. "We've got lots of time to make up for."

"Yeah, we do," Ant said, raising a grin himself and swiping at his red eyes. He leaned forward suddenly to wrap Dec up in a hug. "Don't know what I'd do without you, mate."

"Best keep looking after us, then," Dec answered, returning the hug just as enthusiastically.

He could feel Ant's smile against his neck. "I intend to, Declan. I intend to."