[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

[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."

[porcupineliz]

"Yeah. Please."

If her throat sounds a little thick, it's probably just the nasal congestion. Probably.

[dr_j]

"The more you sleep, the sooner you'll feel better." He gets up. "I'll wake you in a few hours unless you call me first. Sleep well."

[porcupineliz]

She thinks maybe she says thank you again, but isn't sure.



It isn't a solid sleep; deep, yes, but broken by occasional coughing and by some fitful dreams. (The dream with everything running like wet chalk doesn't come back, but there's a confused one with rain and a jungle and a new dress.)

It's early evening, with the sun mostly set, before she feels like she's maybe had enough sleep for now and tries to sit up.

[dr_j]

Jordie's done a load of laundry; he is pairing socks. Soon he will iron.

[porcupineliz]

What time even is it?

She fumbles for her phone, finds it, blinks blearily at the readout for a few seconds before the numbers register.

As do a couple of other bits of sensory input ooookay yeah she's gonna need to get out of bed. Time to see if she can manage that.




The door to Liz's room opens, and she emerges -- once again shuffling and leaning a little on the wall.

[dr_j]

Jordie lifts his head, listening.

If she doesn't call, he won't move.

[porcupineliz]

Shuffle shuffle shuffle.

The bathroom door closes.



After two or three minutes there's the sound of running water, which shuts off again.

Another half a minute before the bathroom door opens again, and shuffling footsteps approach the living room.

"Jordie?" she croaks.