[pfsb+new mexico] achoo

[porcupineliz]

It's morning on the third day of a four-day visit, and they seem to actually be still enjoying each other's company. For a miracle. Today they're supposed to go exploring one of the nearby neighborhoods, and Liz went to bed last night in happy anticipation.

... and can't seem to pull herself out of the guest bed this morning.

Maybe it's got something to do with the cough and headache she seems to have developed overnight.

Comments

[dr_j]

Jordie bends and edges the trash can he keeps under his desk next to Liz's bed.

[porcupineliz]

"Ta-da," she says, with some faint vestige of her usual cheer coming through the muzziness and aches. "Thanks so much. For the ..." Waving one hand feebly. "Everything."

[dr_j]

Jordie laughs, low -- and goes to the bookshelf, where a small bell sits on the top shelf. He puts it near the tray, within reach. "If you need anything," he says.

[porcupineliz]

She laughs in turn -- at least a little, before it snags on a cough. "And here I was just planning to text you or something."

[dr_j]

"We believe in tradition around here." A crooked smile. "Rest up. I'll check in on you later, unless you ring first."

[porcupineliz]

"Yes sir, mister doctor." Liz mimes a salute, and settles further back against the pillows to finish the tea and take the second aspirin.

It isn't very long after that she's asleep again.

[dr_j]

And Jordie cleans -- quietly.

Reads, quietly.

Catches up on email, quietly.

[porcupineliz]

When he comes in to check on her she's still lying there, eyes closed.

She's also flushed, her temples just slightly damp, and muttering.

[dr_j]

Jordie eyes this, disappears into the kitchen, and comes back with a glass of water.

"Liz." Low. "Wake up. You need water."

[porcupineliz]

"I didn't," she says, quite distinctly, and then blinks.

"Hnnh?"

[dr_j]

"You need to stay hydrated," he says gently. "You can go back to sleep right after."

[porcupineliz]

Muzzily, she looks up at him, and focuses on the waterglass in his hand. "Oh."

Slowly, with some effort, she pushes herself sufficiently vertical to take the glass and drink.

[dr_j]

Jordie edges himself down into his desk chair, and gazes out the window.

[porcupineliz]

A long, ragged breath, as she finishes the water.

"Weirdest dreams," she mumbles. "Like everything's ... running."

[dr_j]

Jordie says, softly, still looking out the window, "I could ward the room against them. If you wanted."

[porcupineliz]

"Th're not ... nightmares. Or sendings." She frowns. "I don' think."

[dr_j]

"We'll see if they persist, then?"

[porcupineliz]

"Yeah."

She takes a tissue and blows her nose, wincing a little.

"I think I ... over by my backpack? 'S a bottle."

[dr_j]

Jordie glances over -- and spies it.

Without a word he rises, retrieves, and holds it out.

[porcupineliz]

It's her travel water bottle, and it has a built-in straw that clamps shut automatically -- meaning she can have it in bed with her and not have to worry about spillage.

"Thanks," she mumbles, and blinks a blur out of her eyes as she takes it from him.

[dr_j]

Quiet: "Of course. Can I get you anything else?"

[porcupineliz]

My mother, she thinks, so clearly that for a moment she's sure she said it out loud.

"'S it worse? Fever?"

[dr_j]

"Doesn't seem likely."

He sits back down. "Since you just had water, there's not much point in checking right now. I don't see anything that gives me cause for concern."

[porcupineliz]

"Okay." Her eyes prickle again; she closes them. "Good."

[dr_j]

"We'll check later," he says -- gently. "You want to go back to sleep? I'll refill your bottle and bring it back."