This is based off of a one-shot that I wrote a few years ago. It will be helpful (but not necessary) if you read Lay Still before starting this.
"So which drugs were found in his system, again?" I mumbled from the depths of my pillow.
I heard a rustling of papers before the man beside me answered, "Isocarboxazid and Citalopram were found in the victim's bloodstream during autopsy. These are drugs used to treat depression, a condition that the victim reportedly suffered from."
His reply bewildered me, and I started to lift my head before realizing that I had no energy to even accomplish a task so simple. I settled for keeping my burning head buried in the cool pillow. "That doesn't make sense" I replied. "Citalopram is a first line antidepressant. Isocarboxazid is a MAO inhibitor and is only used during instances where other classes of drugs have been ineffective. A doctor would never prescribe an MAO inhibitor to a patient whose depression is controlled using a SSRI and they would absolutely never prescribe the two drugs to be taken at once." Each syllable I spoke made my head throb, but it was hard to limit myself on such an important issue. I usually loved doing medical consulting work with Lawliet, but my current condition made it rather difficult. "Someone else had to have given your victim the isocarboxazid."
"What would happen if someone were to take both drugs at once?"
I paused to think. I would have usually been able to answer him right away, as if he had asked me what sound a dog made, but my mind was clouded with fever. "Uhh… well there's serotonin storm for one. Symptoms would have included uhh… altered mental status, increased body temperature…" I was cut off when a fit of coughing overtook my body.
"Seizures?" he continued as he shuffled the stack of paper yet again. "The initial autopsy concluded that the victim died from cardiac arrest during a seizure."
"It's possible", I croaked once I had once again caught my breath. "Cardiac arrest likely was the proximate cause of death. However, I'm very certain that serotonin syndrome, likely from poisoning in the ultimate cause of death."
"Interesting." There was silence as the weight on the bed next to me began to shift. I then felt a hand make contact with my shoulder as the man beside me rolled me onto my back. Even though the curtains were shut and the only light in the room came from a small bedside lamp, my eyes seared as I felt my pupils contract to pin points. When my vision finally came into focus, I could see my husband looking down at me curiously as he crouched on the mattress beside me. He placed a hand on my blistering forehead, and I noticed that he was moving something around in his mouth.
"Spit it out", I mumbled, knowing exactly what he was mouthing on. Lawliet passed the object around his mouth a few more times before he goofily stuck out his tongue, on top of which rested his golden wedding ring. He then gingerly lifted the slimy band of his tongue and returned it to its proper place on his ring finger.
"If you're going to keep chewing on it like that", I started as I closed my eyes both in frustration and to avoid the irritation of the light. "then maybe I should put your ring up somewhere." I had been nagging my husband about fidgeting with his wedding ring since the day we were married. He chewed on it constantly. In truth, I wasn't able to completely ignore my wedding band, either. I tapped it on tabletops, took it off and rolled it between my thumb and index finger. In fact, I had used my thumb to rotate it around my ring finger so much, I had developed a rough callous around the base of the digit.
"Then how will everyone know I'm married?" he asked simply. I had the feeling that he was joking, but I ignored it.
I opened my eyes again and squinted at him. "How will people know you're married when you end up swallowing the thing? And remember, no feet in the bed!" My third consecutive day of having a fever had made me pretty irritable. I couldn't help but take it out on the only person around.
"But I'm wearing socks like Ashley asked" Lawliet replied as he lifted a foot to reveal my lime green and purple polka dotted socks that hardly covered half of his foot. I couldn't help but give him the first smile I'd had in days. Instead of getting upset about my attitude, my husband knew exactly how to get me feeling better.
"I have prepared a dinner for Ashley." Lawliet tugged on my nose gently before hopping off the bed.
I propped myself up and eyed him suspiciously as he exited the bedroom. I knew that my husband I could cook. He just never did it. I was usually the one cooking most of our meals. Not because it was the "domestic" thing to do, but because if I left it up to him, we'd be eating chocolate bars at every meal.
When he returned, Lawliet was carrying a large soup bowl using the tips of his fingers to support it from the bottom. As he got closer, the pleasant and familiar scent stimulated my appetite, though the thought of putting food in my tender stomach made it church in pain.
"I've made a favorite of Ashley's", he explained as he sat bowl down on the bedside table. "I chose a meal higher in calories in since you haven't been eating much these past few days. I also left out many of the auxiliary ingredients to make it more bland, but I'm sure you will still find it appetizing." I lifted my head further to peak into the bowl. My suspicions were confirmed. It was potato soup.
After he had placed the bowl down, Lawliet started back towards the doorway. "Where are you going?" I called after him.
He paused at the doorway, turned around, and blinked. "To retrieve my dinner from the kitchen."
"Nice try. Just because I'm sick, doesn't mean I'm going to allow you to eat cake for dinner." I sat up and took the warm bowl of soup from the nightstand. "Come share this soup with me. It is big enough after all."
I could hear my husband let out an overdramatic sigh as I began to use my spoon to toy with the soup. Like he said, I hadn't eaten in days, so I was hungry. However, I still wasn't sure if I was at a far enough point in my recovery to keep food down.
My husband squatted on the bed beside me and took the spoon from my hand. He stirred the viscous, white liquid once before measuring out a hearty spoonful. He held the spoon in front of my mouth in a fist, as if he was going to stab it into my mouth. "You first."
I frowned before hesitantly opening my mouth. He moved the spoon into my mouth gently, as if he was feeding a baby. When he removed the spoon, I retained the food, moving it around from cheek to cheek to delay having to swallow it. Finally I gulped it down in one swift motion, and my frown turned into a grimace. He was right about the soup being bland. It felt as if I were eating gruel. The lukewarm temperature didn't help it much. But I didn't immediately feel like vomiting, so that was a start. "Okay. Your turn."
Lawliet measured out a noticeably less substantial spoonful of soup for himself. He eyed it the same hesitant manner that I did, before sticking the spoon his mouth. Instead of slowly moving the food around in his mouth, as I had, my husband swallowed the food down immediately. He turned to me and grimaced the same way I had before except much more dramatically. I didn't know if he was making fun of me or if he was reacting the bland taste as I had.
As he measured out another spoonful for me, I considered how Lawliet wasn't afraid to eat after someone sick with a moderate case of the flu. In fact, he had been sleeping with me and even kissed me the same way he had before I had fallen ill. Then again, why would he be afraid? My husband was never sick. I don't know why I even kept bothering him about his health the way I did. The whole reason I had started preparing our meals was to make sure he was eating something other than candy and cake. I made him wear shoes in the streets so he wouldn't catch tetanus. I stayed up so late trying to get him to sleep at night that I got none myself. Yet, here I was, laid up in bed with the flu while he abused his body to the brink and got off scott-free.
Lawliet's eyes shifted to me before turning back to his current spoonful of soup. "Why is Ashley always so concerned about my health?" he asked. I swear he could read my mind.
I paused for a second. That was a strange question for him to ask me. "Well I want you to be around for a long time. After all, that's what I married you for."
"Hmm… interesting…" I made a face at him before gently punching him in the arm for his remark. He threw his arm over my shoulders and I collapsed into his embrace.
"I mean, I could be asking you the same thing", I pointed out. "Don't you have that big case to be working on?"
"Hmm…" he mumbled with the spoon in his mouth. His hand moved to mine. "In sickness and in health. I believe that was in our vows." He spun my wedding band around my ring finger in the way I always did.