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“Lynley?” Havers called, knocking on the door for the third time. “Lynley, it’s Havers-come on, I just want to talk!” She was beginning to grow worried. There were several things that didn’t seem right…the car was half parked in the garage. The lights were on all over the house, from what she could see simply by looking through the windows. The front gate hadn’t even been shut all the way. She frowned, and decided to chance it. “Lynley, I’m coming in-please don’t shoot me,” She added, as an afterthought as she pushed open the door…which was unlocked. She blinked, and stepped inside, taking note of all the light in the place.
She stepped slowly towards the living room-taking care to wipe her feet at the door-and then froze at what she saw: Lynley, on the floor, unmoving.
“Lynley!” She darted towards his side as fast as she could, and turned him over carefully-and was relieved to see that he was still breathing, though he was sweating and mumbled something as she checked his forehead. Fever. A bad one, it looked like. The fireplace was cackling, and she quickly checked to make sure it was still going alright, before pulling down a pillow from the sofa, and placing it gently underneath the detective’s head, moving him as little as possible. She hastily covered him with a blanket too, as he was shivering while she held him.
“You idiot, Lynley. Why the hell didn’t you call me?” She muttered, as she moved quickly to the kitchen to fetch him some water. She remembered that sick people needed water quite a bit so that they could keep hydrated…at least, she thought so. She wasn’t good at healing, and she definitely wasn’t good at bedside manners. Hopefully he was going to be alright.
She managed to get a cup of water and a cup of tea, and then she went and fetched the first aide kit from his bathroom. Though she didn’t know what to do with it-beyond take his temperature, and even then, she had next to no clue of what to do. Biting her lower lip, she grabbed the kit anyway, and then went to the detective’s side. She quickly took his temperature, and stared. It was 101.2, high-but not yet dangerously so.
Thank goodness for small favors, she thought sourly, even as she was setting the tray on the floor, and holding his head up a bit so that she could get him some water. He swallowed the water, quickly-and rather greedily. Half the cup was gone almost immediately, and she quickly swapped cups and helped him drink some of the tea. He slowly opened his eyes once she’d finished helping him drink, and he stared at her rather blearily, as though not able to concentrate very well.
“…Havers?” He asked, sounding as though he were guessing. He seemed confused, disbelieving, and a number of other things that she couldn’t even begin to guess at.
“Yes, you idiot. Why the hell didn’t you call me when you were starting to feel ill?” She demanded, tucking the blanket around him. She checked the fireplace again, and decided a couple of more logs could be tossed on, as it was rather low, though still there was enough of a fire that she could feel the heat from where she sat. It wouldn’t be enough for the detective, however, so she squatted next to the fireplace, and picked up two of the logs, and tossed them carefully into the fire.
“What…what are you doing here?” Lynley sounded worried, and still rather confused. She took pity on him.
“I came because we agreed to have lunch and learn more about one another. I’d talk to you about my past, you’d talk to me about who knew what. We were supposed to meet an hour ago. I was just going to head home, but something told me I had to come and see you in person. Actually, I’d thought that you’d blown me off.” She admitted, looking embarrassed.
He sighed, turning sideways a bit to face her.
“I’m sorry,” He muttered, yawning. “I didn’t mean to miss our appointment, and I especially didn’t mean for you to think ill of me-again,” He said, with a roll of his eyes-and then winced and rubbed his head as though it hurt.
“Headache?” She asked, guessing, and he nodded-and winced again. “Here. I’ve got the first aide-but I’m crap at taking care of people. You’d think even with all that I’d learned from taking care of mum and dad, I’d be better at it, but really all I’ve done for them is help get them to the doctor’s office and hospital so that more qualified people could take care of them for me,” She said, scowling as she handed him some Tylenol and he accepted it. She noted that his hands were shaking badly, though he was still able to take some tea for himself.
“Thank you,” He murmured, sounding exhausted. She shook her head.
“Go to sleep, idiot. We’ll talk when you’re more yourself,” She ordered, and he cracked open one eye and gave a smile.
“Nice to see your still insulting me even when I’m sick,” He said, almost cheerfully. She growled at him; and he slipped into sleep, looking better already even as he began to snore.
Maybe she could suffocate him with a pillow and get away with it, claiming he’d gotten to sick to get better?
She half-smiled at the thought even as she went to make some chicken noodle soup.
Maybe it would turn out to be the cure for idiocy?
~*~
End