Disclaimer: the PPC is the brainchild of Jay and Acacia, and "C*l*br**n" is certainly not mine (thank all the Gods). However Archer and Sabbat are most definitely mine, and using them without my permission is not advised.

"I got you some food," Archer announced, pushing open the door of the RC.

The reply he received from the slumped figure on the camp bed was not encouraging: "Wonderful. Something to put into my stomach so I can throw it back up again five minutes later."

"What's wrong?" the vampire asked, dumping the cartons on a nearby shelf and moving to sit down next to his partner. "You didn't say you felt that bad."

"I didn't." The other agent waved a hand towards the console screen. "Read that."

Archer did so – well, the first two lines, anyway. Then he looked back at Sabbat, his eyebrows raised.

"'C*l*br**n'?" he exclaimed, pronouncing the asterisks with some difficulty. "What in the hells were you thinking?"

"Morbid Curiosity," Sabbat groaned. "I think the shock may have killed it, though."

"Thank the Gods for small mercies." The vampire paused, then added "I must say, I wouldn't have expected you to react that badly. I mean, you are the one who knows all the filthy words to 'The Lusty Lass', which is probably the dirtiest song in existence...."

The dark-skinned man shook his head. "That's just normal sailor behaviour. This was different. This was just... unremittingly vile. A loathsome, cankerous, inhuman—"

"Sabbat—"

"Yes?"

"You're waxing poetical. Please stop it."

"Why?"

"You're scaring me. Anyway, you've only got yourself to blame for reading it."

"I know."

"Do you want something to eat? It might make you feel better."

"What did you get?"

"Vanilla ice cr—"

Archer had never seen his partner move so fast. Before he'd even finished the sentence, Sabbat was in the bathroom, and from thence came shortly the sounds of someone being very violently sick.

Archer deliberated whether he should do something to help, but eventually decided against going to see if his friend was all right. This was not as callous as it might seem, as Sabbat did not welcome sympathy – his default response to it being "I can deal with it myself, thank you very much."

And, in fact, a few minutes later the other agent reappeared (looking somewhat healthier than before), made his way rather unsteadily back to the camp bed and collapsed onto it, grabbing a flask from underneath the pillow as he did so. After uncorking the bottle and taking a few sips, he said, quite calmly, "Can you please avoid mentioning that stuff for a few days?"

The vampire nodded. "Flashbacks?"

"Yes."

"Bad?"

"What do you think?"

"Sorry." Pause. Then, in a more conversational tone, "But it can't really be that bad, can it?"

"Read the damn thing and find out, why don't you?"

"All right – I will."

Five minutes later, an anguished yell echoed down the corridor outside the RC.

"Oh dear Gods! My eyes!"