A/N: I place this fic as taking place relatively early in the series. This is a sick!fic so it probably goes without saying but there will be multiple mentions of food poisoning related symptoms throughout this story. If those things make you uncomfortable this might not be the story for you. However, if they don't bother you, I hope you will enjoy reading as Henry and Jo are put through a night of pain and suffering!

Henry had known he was going to regret this decision. He'd known that before he'd even agreed to it, had known it even long before this day. He just hadn't expected to regret quite this much.

Henry and Jo had finished their work day and decided to have dinner together. They had just successfully solved another tough murder and a celebration seemed to be in order. Ever the gentleman, Henry had allowed Jo to choose the restaurant. He may not have been so polite if he had known what her choice would be. He knew his words were a mistake the second they were out of his mouth. Jo's face lit up and her lips turned up into a devious smile like she had won the lottery; one he already knew he would be paying for. He was not at all surprised when she said she wanted to stop at one of the roadside carts for gyros.

Of course, he hadn't wanted to eat there at all. He never bought food from any of those appalling sidewalk stands and he never ate gyros. Combining the two made for one of the most unappealing meals he could imagine. But he could see right away that Jo expected, even wanted, him to refuse the request. He also knew that if he did she would taunt him relentlessly about it. He decided he did not want to give her that opportunity so he smiled and agreed instantly. She offered that they could go somewhere else if he didn't want a gyro, knowing full well he didn't, but he was determined to see this through to the end. He had been accused of being closed-minded at times and he wanted to prove he wasn't. By sheer force of will he had managed to choke down the whole thing with a forced smile and nary a complaint.

He had known that his palate would not accept the retched thing as proper food and had been prepared for indigestion. He had expected it and was not at all surprised when it came. What he hadn't expected was for his stomach to completely reject the meal. At first, he was sure that he was only being dramatic. When it had been only indigestion he assumed he'd only thought about it so much that he'd made himself feel sick by suggestion; he'd been repulsed by the thought of the gyro and therefor had mentally talked himself into actually feeling sick. But when the nausea had turned into a sharp stabbing pain he knew this was something else. It now felt like he had knives impaling him in the stomach from all angles as violent cramps coursed through his abdomen.

Despite the cool fall air that surrounded them as they walked slowly to Jo's home, perspiration was building up on Henry's forehead. He felt himself starting to sweat heavily under his jacket too, though he knew the weather didn't warrant it. He felt bad because he knew Jo was speaking but he had no idea really what she was saying. He was getting weaker by the second and every step seemed to require his full attention. He stomach was on fire, his head pounded, he was incredibly dizzy and nauseous. All he could think about was resting and he felt so bad that he contemplated just stopping and laying down on the sidewalk.

By the time they arrived at Jo's house Henry was absolutely sure he wasn't going to make it home before he got sick. He'd had this before and he knew the unpleasant symptoms of food poisoning well. All he wanted to do was to go home and suffer through the hours of torture that lay ahead of him. But he knew he wasn't going to make it there in time, at least before it started.

"Jo, uh, do you mind if I use your restroom before I head home?"

Jo seemed distracted herself. He'd thought she'd been talking but maybe she hadn't been. Good, then maybe he hadn't been as rude as he felt.

"Yeah. Sure," she said, unlocking her door.

He followed her inside, praying she would move quicker. He now knew it was only going to a matter of seconds before he got sick and he really didn't want the first thing he did in her home to be throwing up on her floor.

"The bathroom is down the hall, second door on the right."

"Thank you," he said, already moving in that direction.

10 minutes later, with his forehead pressed against the toilet set, Henry was actually hoping for death. He certainly felt like he was dying and for once he would welcome it if saved him from this anguish. It was irrational to want it given all the problems it would create but he longed for it none the less. Of course, he knew this wouldn't kill him. He'd had food poisoning several times over the years and though it always made him wish for the escape of death it had never actually led to it.

He wrapped an arm around his stomach waiting for the inevitable next wave to overtake him. In the relatively short amount of time that he had been in here he'd already lost count of how many times he'd vomited. His stomach ached more each time from the strain of it and the worst thing of it all was that it didn't even seem to provide any relief. He was certain that his stomach was empty now but that didn't make the stabbing knives go away and it didn't stop the heaving. Although he was a doctor and knew it was pretty much impossible he was nearly convinced that next time his stomach was going to come up with it.

He'd lost sight of time, lost track of anything else in the world. His world was nothing but nausea, dizziness and pain until a voice broke through it.

"Henry," Jo called from the other side of the door. "I, uh... uh, can I come in?"

Henry groaned quietly, closing his eyes and hanging his head over the toilet. This was so embarrassing. He'd been invited into Jo's home to only go into her bathroom and repeatedly throw up. She had surely heard him by now; though he had tried his best he knew he hadn't exactly been quiet. "I apologize, Jo. But I'm in a bit of an...indecent predicament here."

"Henry..."

"I think that those gyros might not have been a good idea."

"Henry!" Jo called out a little more insistently, though the urgency in her voice escaped Henry's notice.

"I'm sure I will be alright. I just need a few moments to get myself together..."

"Oh for goodness' sake, Henry! Just stop talking!" Jo said, busting through the door of the bathroom. Spotting Henry hunched over the toilet, she ran quickly to the sink, leaned over it and got terribly sick. When she had finished, she ran the water, quickly washing the mess away and she collapsed weakly to the floor next to him, breathing heavily.

"So, I see you also seem to be inflicted?" he asked lamely trying to lighten the mood and tying to not focus on the way seeing her get sick made him nauseous all over again.

"Gee, what tipped you off?" she shot back as she clutched at her stomach, her hands tearing at her shirt in agony.

She apparently wasn't in the mood for jokes. And it didn't work to distract him either. He leaned over the toilet and got sick again. How was it possible for a person to be sick this many times? Right now, all his medical knowledge seemed to go right out the window and it really did seem impossible. He heard Jo groan next to him and he blushed at being seen in such an embarrassing situation. But he soon realized she had problems of her own, enough not have any energy in which to judge him.

She looked around worriedly and he could practically see her turning green. That expression was usually an exaggeration but Jo was actually changing shades of color. He could recognize the look on her face for what it was; she was going to be sick again. A pitiful sound left her mouth as her hand still grabbed at her abdomen.

"Here," he said scooting out of the way and waving her towards the toilet with a weak hand. She got up on her knees and leaned over it. She heaved several times and he wrapped an arm around her, trying to comfort her. He was unable to do much more than that for her, when he was so focused on trying to forget what she was doing. He was a physician so vomiting had never bothered him; dealing with it was just part of the job. It was often very necessary and he could see it at for what it was: a normal process meant to rid the body of unwanted contagion. However, with how ill he was feeling at the moment it was impossible to remain that detached. She hadn't gotten sick as many times as he had yet but she was quickly catching up. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his mouth trying to think of the most boring useless information he could to distract himself.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime (his kind of long lifetime at that), she stopped. She gasped for breath for a while. After a minute of hearing nothing but her breathing, he felt it was safe to look over at her. He saw she was breaking out in a sweat and there were a couple of tears at the corner of her watery eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, rubbing his hand against her arm a few times.

"Yeah, I think so," she said, wiping her face with a shaking hand. "For now," she added ominously.

She reached up to flush the toilet and he saw she was trembling. She looked at him a bit sheepishly and wiped her face again self-consciously. "Sorry, you had to see that."

"Likewise," he said.

"I don't suppose there is any point in being embarrassed?"

He smiled a little. "I don't think so."

He helped her lean back and rest against the floor. He lowered himself down beside her and though the floor was hard it was cold and that felt good. It felt so good he was able to distract himself from thoughts of the germs that lived on a bathroom floor, even a clean one, as Jo's appeared to be.

"I guess it's food poisoning then?" she asked as she pulled the bottom of her shirt out of jeans and undid her belt, surely to relieve the pressure of them from her aching belly.

It seemed such a good idea he threw away social convention (what was the point anyway?) and decided to follow her example. He now realized how oppressive his own clothes were. He untucked his shirt and undid the bottoms on his vest and pulled his tie loose. It helped somewhat but he be found himself longing for soft pajamas and comfortable blankets around him.

"That would be my diagnosis."

"I've eaten there ...dozens of times and I've never gotten sick," she said sounding as tired as if she had just run a marathon. "I don't know what happened."

"It was made in a cart on the side of the road. What did really you expect?"

"Henry, I don't know if you've noticed or not but you live in New York City; you can buy all kinds of food on the side of the road," she said defensively.

He realized he had come off sounding like a snob or know-it-all but couldn't she see how bad a choice it was? "That doesn't mean it's any good," he said standing his ground. "Do you have any idea the kind of bacteria that can grow when-"

Jo groaned, rolling on her side and curling up with her back to him. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture."

"I'm not lecturing you."

"Almost everything you say is a lecture!"

"All I'm saying is-"

"If you say 'I told you so,' then I will punch you in the face. I'm not sure I have the strength to get off the floor right now but I know I have the strength for that."

A moment of silence passed between them. They were both ill and cranky and it was making them surprisingly irritable at each other. They playfully argued and teased each other all of the time but what had just passed between them had not been playful. It had been real annoyance.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I don't mean to snap."

"It's alright. I'm sorry too. I'm not blaming you for this. Really, food poisoning can happen anywhere. There are millions of cases of it a year."

"Thank you for... you know, putting your arm around me while I was..." she said awkwardly, trying to make up for her harsh words. "It was comforting."

"You're welcome. Thank you for allowing me to use your…facilities."

She surprised him by laughing a little. "I don't think either one of us had a choice in that."

He looked at her and then they both laughed. It sent the stabbing through his stomach again and the caused the rocking back and forth to start again and they both paused to check their stomachs making sure they wouldn't protest more than that.

After a moment, when they were both sure that they were going to be alright, she spoke again. "So, is that the worst of it you think?" she asked hopefully.

He paused only for a moment, trying to figure out what would be the most delicate way of answering her question, but it was long enough. "Oh no," she groaned.

"I'm afraid there probably is more to come."

"Great," she said with heavy sarcasm. She sat up slowly and cautiously. Seeing that she was about to get up he rushed to stand so he could give her a hand. The action cause such a violet head rush that his vision went black and for a terrible minute he thought he might actually faint. A fresh sweat broke out on his face and neck but the dizziness thankfully started to pass. His vision was covered in spots but was returning and he found Jo giving him a disapproving look.

"There's no need for that," she said, knowing what he had been about to do.

He admitted defeat, reaching out a hand to the sink to steady himself. "I was just trying to be helpful," he said before taking several deep breaths as the blood returned to his head.

"I know," she said a little kinder. "But you need to remember that you are sick too. No reason to hurt yourself just to be polite."

On weak legs they both managed to stumble out of the bathroom and down the hall. They looked so much like a well-liquored pair it would have been funny if it weren't so painful.

"Can I use your phone?" he asked as they entered Jo's living room. Even though Abe might not exactly be happy, Henry figured it was better to call him to come and escort him home rather than taking his chances on a cab ride. Abe could at least bring him a tub for the ride.

"Yeah. Over there," she said waving a hand towards a desk against the wall. He staggered to the phone and hunched tiredly over the table as he held it to his ear. He was already dreaming longingly of his bed as it started to ring.

While he was waiting for Abe to answer he glanced back to see where Jo was. She had made her way to the couch and was curled up on it, her arms held tightly around herself and looking about as miserable as it was possible for a person to look.

Henry was struck with guilt for how long it had taken him to wonder who was going to take care of her. Abe was not the most gentle or willing of nurses but he was a good boy and he would take good care of his old man while he was sick. But Jo would be here alone. Food poisoning was rarely a serious illness but it was very unpleasant and a case of it could really put a person through the ringer. He knew enough about her now to know she wouldn't ask for help but she would no doubt need it. Even if she could manage alright on her own, who wanted to be alone when they were sick? Loneliness would make this terrible situation even more difficult to cope with.

He could offer to take her home with him and Abe could take care of them both but he knew right away Jo would never accept. He could offer to stay here and help her himself but she would refuse that too. She wouldn't want to impose on anyone. If he was going to help her he knew he would have to make it seem like he wasn't staying just for her. He knew she wouldn't appreciate the protective sentiment but she looked so sad and vulnerable as she lay there on the couch that he couldn't bear the thought of leaving her alone. His stomach continued to argue at him and he realized he might be more trouble than help. By the time it was all over she may be wishing for him to just leave but at least she wouldn't be alone.

"Hello," Abe answered on the other end.

"Hello, Abe."

"Hey, Henry. What's up?"

"I'm at Jo's."

"Oh?" Abe asked with a bit of curiously. It was, after all, a statement that Henry had never made before.

"Yeah, I'm going to spend the night."

"Really?" Abe asked, clear interest as well as amusement in his voice now.

"Now, don't start," Henry warned. "Jo and I are sick."

"I don't need the details, Pops," Abe said with a chuckle.

"Abraham, you stop that right now!" Henry said in his best stern father voice while still keeping it low so Jo wouldn't hear. "I'm serious. Jo and I went for dinner after work and she picked one of those awful food carts. Now I think we both have food poisoning."

"Oh. Sorry, to hear that," Abe said finally growing serious. "Are you going to be alright?"

"I think so. We're feeling pretty miserable but it's just something that will have to run its course. But I don't feel comfortable leaving Jo here by herself."

"Do you need anything? You want me to come over?"

"No, thank you. I don't want Jo to know you're home."

"Why not?"

"If she knows you're home she'll expect me to go there and let you take care of me rather than letting me stay here and help her."

"Henry, why don't you just tell her you want to keep her company?" Abe asked, familiar exasperation tinting his voice.

"Because she's not the kind to want help. If she thinks she's taking care of me as well she'll accept the help better." He remembered her brush off back in the bathroom. He knew she had had a point there but on a good day Jo was very much an independent woman who wanted to take care of everything herself. It wasn't that he ever offered help to offend her strength; he only wanted to help. It knew it was the modern way of things but it made a chivalrous man like himself confused with what to do

"She's a detective. She's going to figure it out."

"No, she won't."

"Despite the fact that you have somehow managed to keep a very big secret relatively well for the past 200 years, you are not a very good liar."

"I just want to take care of her," Henry said honestly. "And she makes that difficult, you know?"

"Alright," Abe relented. "I still say she's going to find out and when she does she won't too happy."

"I'll take my chances."

"How about I come by tomorrow you bring you two some food? Is that allowed?" Abe asked his voiced taunting on the last word. Abe was a good son but he could still be a little snot sometimes.

"Yes, that would great," Henry said ignoring the tone. He also attempted to ignore the way his stomach rolled at just the word 'food'. "Just the blandest thing you can manage though. I'm sure we won't be up for much. And some tonic."

"Sure thing. I hope you feel better," Abe said sincerely. "Call me if you guys need anything."

"I will. Thank you, Abraham," Henry said fondly. "Goodnight."

"Good night, Pops."

Henry hung up the phone and walked back towards the couch. Jo opened her eyes and looked at him. Her face was pale but her cheeks flushed and she was breaking out in sweat. She was still in obvious pain and might possibly be running a fever. Upon some further self-examination, he realized he wasn't feeling too great either. He felt slightly lightheaded and weak and quickly sat down on the couch beside her.

"Did you get a hold of Abe?" she asked but she did not move from where she was laying still scrunched up in ball.

"Ah, no actually," Henry said cautiously. "I forgot he, uh, actually is on a trip out of town for the night. With one of his friends. He won't be back until tomorrow," he rattled off sloppily. With Abe's words of caution ringing in his ears he noticed it and feared Jo wasn't going to buy it.

"Well, what are you going to do?" she asked. Apparently, disease had altered her normally impeccable deduction skills. Good.

"I don't want to bother him. I'll just call a cab," he said trying to sound casual.

"A cab? Henry," she said with worry, starting to sit up slightly like she might try to stop him. "You think you'll be able to make it through a cab ride home?"

"I'm not sure," he answered. That part, at least, was the truth. He was dismayed to realize that his stomach felt like it was gearing up for another round already. He wrapped an arm around himself, a genuine grimace starting to form on his face.

"And what are you going to when you get there anyway?" she said, tilting her head as she stared at him. "Sit in your house alone and sick?"

He fought hard to contain a smile. That was exactly what she would have done. She wouldn't have accepted help if he had just outright offered it to her and would have struggled through her illness alone. But she wouldn't think of having him do the same. She had a good heart, maybe a little too good for her own good sometimes. She made it so difficult for herself and he was glad his plan was working out so well.

"Can I suggest an alternative?" she asked.

"Please, do," he said, trying to sound completely oblivious to what he knew would be her suggestion.

She gave him a look and for a moment he was sure that she was on to him. But then he realized she was looking at him with exasperation because the answer was so obvious. "Why don't you stay here? I don't know how much help I can be but it's got to be better than sitting all alone in your house," she said with a good humored smile.

"Well, if you really don't mind?"

"Not at all. Maybe between the two of us we can manage to keep each other alive until tomorrow."

Henry smiled, a genuine smile, despite all pain and sickness he felt. "Sounds like a plan, Detective."