Disclaimer: Still don't own any of this.
Author's Note: This was requested a very long time ago, and it's probably not quite what Agent ERA envisioned, but I hope you all enjoy it despite its lack of plot!
Jane was enjoying a nice nap on his couch when an unusual sound startled him to wakefulness. Sitting up, he looked around the CBI bullpen to see what the horrible noise was, only to find Rigsby and Van Pelt staring in dismay and concern, respectively, at Cho. Or rather, the hunched over figure in Cho's chair currently making a honking sound like an elephant trampling a tuba player.
"Man, you should go home," Rigsby said, pushing his chair back in a manner that did not quite reach nonchalance. "You're sick."
"I'm not sick," Cho said, though it came out sounding more like "Mm nutsit."
"Yes, you are," Van Pelt said firmly. "And you're going to make us sick. Go home."
Rigsby said, "You know what Boss did last time I gave her my cold."
"She's not here," Cho managed to croak while coughing.
This was lamentably true, Jane reflected. Lisbon was stuck in an all-day budget meeting and had threatened dire penalties for any rescue attempt, though he had gone to the trouble of thinking of several. Some were quite amusing. But it seemed they would go to waste, because it turned out that Rigsby and Van Pelt needed rescuing even more.
Standing, Jane rubbed his hands together briskly. "Cho, you are endangering the good citizens of California by spreading your viral plague throughout its premier law enforcement agency. It is clearly my duty to remove you to quarantine and see that your health is restored as quickly as possible."
Cho aimed a baleful look at him, somewhat diminished by his swollen nose and alarming pallor.
"Rigsby," Jane said, "bring your car around. I'll help our friend downstairs."
Rigsby popped out of his chair as if it had a spring, but said, "Why my car? Why not yours?"
"You really want to ride in my backseat?" Jane asked. As much as he loved his car, it would be like human origami.
"Point taken," Rigsby sighed, heading for the elevator.
"I'm not going home," Cho said as soon as he finished blowing his nose. "What if we get a case?"
"Van Pelt will call us," Jane said reasonably. "Anyway, what could you possibly do at a crime scene except contaminate it with germs?"
Van Pelt chimed in, "Go home, Cho. I'll call if we catch a case. But it's been quiet today, so it will probably stay that way. You get a nap and some vitamin C and I'm sure you'll be fine tomorrow."
She was lying through her teeth, Jane noted, but calling her on it would be counterproductive. "See? We can stay out of trouble for twelve hours or so. Go home and wrestle this bug into submission, and then you can go back to interrogating criminals."
In response, Cho sneezed. Windowpanes rattled.
Van Pelt edged her chair further from Cho's desk. "Go home," she said, as if to a misbehaving puppy.
"Fine. I'll be in tomorrow. Tell Lisbon to call if she needs me," Cho said. At least, that's what Jane thought he said. Van Pelt did not appear to feel the need to try to translate, since she didn't reply.
Jane gestured with his arm and then followed Cho to the elevator, staying well out of sneeze radius. When Cho stopped to double over in a paroxysm of coughing, Jane took the precaution of lifting his keys from his pocket.
Their exit from the building was sped considerably by the fact that no one was willing to share an elevator with them, or in fact be within six feet of the obviously ill Cho. Jane grew more concerned with each step, as it became apparent that this was probably more than a cold or even the flu. He rapidly amended his plan as they made their way outside.
He helped Cho into the back seat of Rigsby's SUV, then slid into the passenger seat. Under cover of Cho blowing his nose, Jane leaned over and said, "Urgent care clinic."
"Yeah," Rigsby agreed, eyeing the rear view mirror with trepidation. But he must have decided he was more afraid of Cho's germs than his wrath, because he drove two blocks and pulled into the nearest urgent care clinic.
"Home," Cho wheezed, folding his arms for a moment before he had to cough again.
"Drugs. Then home," Jane corrected. "Come on. Don't make me hypnotize you. Your guard is down; it would be laughably easy." Which wasn't true, but Cho obviously didn't know that, because he slid out of the car, leaned against it for a moment, and then began staggering toward the clinic door. Rigsby and Jane quickly took up station on either side of him, Rigsby moving slightly ahead to hold the door.
It looked like a long wait. Actually, Jane thought it looked like a scene from a B-movie about a pandemic, but at least they found a seat for Cho. Jane refrained from touching anything as much as possible, leaning close to a panicked looking Rigsby. "Hey. I'm going to find some paper and write a shopping list. You go to the grocery store, then drop the things off at Cho's house and come back for us."
"Yeah. Great idea," Rigsby said, cheering up as he handed over the small notepad and pen he kept in his jacket pocket.
Jane quickly wrote down all the ingredients he needed, plus some over the counter medicines in case the frauds in white coats failed to provide Cho with the heavy medication he clearly needed. Rigsby took a latex glove out of his pocket and accepted Cho's keys and the notepad, squinting at it. "Does that say 'chitlin'?"
"Chicken. Breast," Jane corrected. "I'm making my famous chicken noodle soup. A sure-fire cure for anything short of flesh-eating bacteria."
"Okay. I'll be back." Rigsby made his escape. Jane hoped he would find the nerve to come back.
It seemed a very long time before Cho's name was called, but at last it was. Jane stood up with him, but Cho folded his arms. "No."
"But we've come all this way," Jane protested.
"You wait here," Cho managed to say firmly before a coughing fit sneezed him.
"Fine." Jane knew when to forfeit a battle to win the war. He contented himself with watching Cho follow the nurse into the hallway.
A few minutes later, his phone rang. He greeted the caller ID with delight. "Lisbon! You escaped! Tell me how you did it. Did you crawl under the table and make a desperate break for the door? Did you put tranquilizers in the coffee supply? Take a hostage?"
"Jane, where are you?" She ignored all his questions, but he'd expected that.
"I'm at the urgent care clinic with Cho. Didn't Van Pelt tell you he's sick?"
"Yes, she did. But the last time you called in sick, you were actually stealing a painting from a Russian mobster."
"I see absolutely no call for that kind of activity, since we don't have an active case," he replied with dignity.
"Let me talk to Cho."
"He's in with the doctor."
"Rigsby, then."
"I sent him to buy groceries."
Lisbon's sigh was clearly audible. "You better not be lying to me, Jane."
"Lisbon, you wound me. I'm merely rendering assistance to a stricken friend. Feel free to call Rigsby if you don't believe me."
"I will. Look, I'm still in this meeting; we're on a ten-minute break. If we get a case, you need to send Rigsby back to help Van Pelt. Don't give him a hard time about it."
"Of course."
"And behave. Cho gets cranky when he's sick. Don't tempt him to shoot you."
"Consider me forewarned."
Lisbon sighed again. "And text me when you know what the doctor said."
"With pleasure, though if I had to guess at a diagnosis, I'd say we're looking at Patient Zero of the zombie apocalypse. You know, if you'd let me teach you hypnosis, you would have been done with this meeting an hour ago," he said, but the dial tone told him she'd already hung up.
That was just as well, because a moment later Cho emerged, looking annoyed and holding a crumpled paper in his hand. He went straight to the checkout desk to pay, and Jane took the opportunity to liberate the paper. "Ah. Walking pneumonia?"
"Walking. People work with this all the time," Cho informed him, before pausing to sneeze.
"But you've no need to," Jane said. "Once we fill this prescription and you get a good night's sleep, you'll probably be right as rain."
Cho grunted in acknowledgement, focused on his paperwork.
"Rigsby should have stocked your kitchen by now, so you can have a big bowl of homemade chicken soup before you crawl into bed."
Cho shot him a look over his shoulder, then patted his pocket and scowled. "Save your hovering for Lisbon. I don't need anybody to take care of me."
"Nonsense. Everyone needs someone to look after them when they're sick. And I don't hover," Jane added as an afterthought.
Cho made a sound that could have been a derisive snort or the unfortunate result of a blob of mucus moving around his airway. Whatever it was, it made the young man at the counter look up in alarm.
"Hey," Rigsby greeted them as he came through the door. "Going to live?"
"Yes," Jane said, as Cho coughed. "Once we stop by the pharmacy. Still quiet at the office?"
"Yeah. Van Pelt says she's optimizing something or other. The phone hasn't rung once." Rigsby kept well out of sneezing range. "I wiped the car down with those antibacterial wipes you had me buy. Oh. Here's the damage."
Jane accepted the alarmingly long receipt with equanimity. "Thanks. Shall we go?" Being exposed to Cho's germs was preferable to being exposed to the array of unidentified diseases doubtless lurking in this waiting room.
Cho signed the credit card slip, stuffed all the papers in his pocket, and shot them both a glare as he headed toward the door.
"Walking pneumonia," Jane explained to Rigsby as they followed. "Though I suspect the doctor is right and there is a secondary infection happening as well. He'll be miserable for a bit, but right as rain in the end."
"Good," Rigsby said in relief, then frowned. "Contagious?"
"For days, yes. But generally only in close contact."
Rigsby let out a gloomy sigh. "Like sitting nearby all day, every day?"
"You haven't been sharing coffee cups, have you?"
"No!"
"Then you're probably fine. If it will make you feel better, you can have some soup. It's guaranteed to cure what ails you."
"Soup sounds good," Rigsby said, perking up.
The pharmacy took longer than any of them liked, but fortunately Cho's place wasn't far from the clinic. Jane was unsurprised that he lived close to the office, but he was surprised to find the decor wasn't modernist monk like Lisbon's. On second thought, though, it made sense that Cho had made himself a comfortable place to withdraw from the world. It fit with his love of fiction and what Jane surmised was a rich inner life.
The kitchen was clean and tidy, and Jane left Rigsby to settle the patient in while he got started on his soup. He had just finished chopping all the vegetables and sautéing the chicken when Rigbsy appeared in the doorway, looking discomfited. "Uh, how much longer?"
"It should simmer for at least an hour," Jane replied. "Everything okay?"
"Sure. I'm just going to, uh, stop by the office and check in with Van Pelt, maybe find the cold case file Cho was reading earlier to, um, keep him occupied."
Jane stifled a chuckle. "Cho's a bad patient, hm?"
"Snarling like a wounded animal," Rigsby confirmed. "Not a cute one like a dog, but scary like a badger. You'll be okay here on your own, right? I'll be back."
Jane grinned. "Of course. See you when you get back."
Rigsby couldn't get out the door fast enough. Jane made sure all was well with his soup, then washed his hands and headed for the bedroom. Cho was all tucked into bed, sitting up with a book that Jane, after squinting, managed to identify as For Whom the Bell Tolls.
"Well, that's not going to cheer you up," Jane observed.
"I don't need cheering up," Cho grumbled. "I just need to be left alone. The doctor said rest was the best thing. And yes, I took my medicine. I don't need a nurse."
"Good, because I'm not one," Jane replied. "Though if you were in pain, I could help with that."
"Can you unclog my nasal passages?"
"No."
"Then I'm good."
"Fine. I'll be within earshot if you change your mind." Jane went back to the kitchen to stir the soup, then spent a delightful few minutes browsing the well-stocked bookcase in Cho's living room. There were still some classical works he'd never gotten around to reading, so he could use his Cho-sitting time productively.
About an hour and a half later, Rigsby was back, smelling suspiciously of tacos. "Everything okay?"
"Right as rain. Still quiet at the office?"
"Yeah. Lisbon finally got out of her meeting. We're not on tonight, so we can all get some rest. I figured I'd check in before going home."
"What about the file Cho wanted?"
"Uh." Rigsby looked mildly terrified. "Lisbon said no. She said he should rest and get better."
She was an adorable little hypocrite sometimes, Jane thought. "And she's right. Do you want to see him for a minute?"
"No, no need to disturb him. Are you okay to hang out here for a while?"
"All night if necessary," Jane assured him. "Enjoy your night off." Those were few and far between, after all. He hoped Lisbon had the sense to go home and rest too.
"Thanks, man." Rigsby smiled, then sniffed. "That smells great."
"Would you like some? To go?"
"Sure!"
Jane went back into the kitchen. He'd familiarized himself with it earlier, admiring the logical setup that was obviously a product of Cho's straightforward, rational mind. There were perfectly organized plastic containers, each with its lid, in one of the cupboards. Jane recognized them from their appearances in the CBI refrigerator. Cho was frugal enough to carry leftovers for lunch from time to time.
Ladling a generous serving into a plastic bowl and sealing the lid, Jane reflected on his friends' lives. Was Rigsby's apartment as comfortable as this, or was he more of a nomad like Lisbon? Van Pelt probably had a surfeit of throw pillows. But all of them had more of a home than he did, dividing his time between an empty house that was more of a mausoleum and an extended-stay motel.
"Thanks!" Rigsby accepted the container as if it were a bag full of money. "Let me know if you guys need anything else."
"You've been a great help," Jane assured him. "Get some rest and eat your soup. Your immune system can use the help. And you can stop by for breakfast in the morning and check on us."
"Sounds good. Get some sleep," Rigsby advised as he left.
Jane turned back to the soup pot and dished up a more normal serving. Cho's kitchen wasn't supplied with a tray, but there was a lap desk in the living room, so he repurposed that to bring the soup and a glass of water into Cho's room.
"Not hungry," Cho said without looking up from his book.
"You wanted to unclog your nasal passages. Soup will do it."
"So will wasabi," Cho grumbled, but he put the book down and took the lap desk from Jane. "If you try to spoon feed me, you'll be wearing this."
"I would never dare," Jane said truthfully. "I'll leave you to it. I'm going to get myself a bowl as well, as a protective measure."
As he left the room, he heard the clink of a spoon against the bowl and smiled in satisfaction.
He had just finished setting his own dinner on the small kitchen table when someone knocked on the door. Going over to peek through the peephole, he was delighted to find Lisbon standing on the doorstep. "Lisbon, you're just in time. Come in."
She stepped through the open door warily, as if expecting to find a shootout in progress. "Well, you're still alive, I see. How's Cho?"
"A tad cranky, but I'm betting after he finishes his soup, he'll drift off and feel better for a good night's sleep," Jane said, leading her to the kitchen. "Sit and eat. I'll get another bowl for myself."
Lisbon hesitated. "I was just stopping by. I wasn't planning to eat."
"I guarantee you my homemade soup is a better dinner than whatever takeout you were planning to get," Jane said. "Plus, it will help your immune system cope with whatever germs Cho has sprinkled around the office."
He pulled out the chair and looked at her expectantly until she gave in and sat down. After he moved the glass he'd used away, he turned to pour her a fresh one, then ladled himself a bowl of soup. They are in companionable silence, Jane pretending not to notice how enthusiastically Lisbon was eating. He was pleased, though. He too rarely brought joy into her life, and watching her enjoy his culinary effort brought him satisfaction.
"If I get sick, you better bring me something at least this good," she remarked.
"Deal," he replied, grinning.
"But no camping out at my place. I'm surprised Cho hasn't kicked you out yet." She looked concerned.
"Feel free to stop in and ask him why," Jane replied. "He should be done eating by now. Remind him to take his decongestant."
Lisbon rolled her eyes at him, but she swallowed the last spoonful of her soup, got to her feet, and headed for the bedroom. Jane made a brief clatter clearing her dishes, then stepped into the hall to eavesdrop.
"Hey," Lisbon said softly. "How're you doing?"
"I'm fine," Cho said, trying to make up for his lack of enunciation with volume.
"Good. Then you don't need me to kick Jane out for you."
There was a strange snorting noise before Cho said, "No. It's good for him to remember he's part of a family. If force feeding me homemade soup is what he needs to do, then fine. I can take it."
Lisbon chuckled. "Yes, you can. Let me know if you need anything."
"I won't. Jane can run all my errands. It'll make up for his being a pain in the ass the rest of the time," Cho replied.
"That's the spirit," Lisbon said cheerfully.
Jane quickly moved back to the sink and busied himself cleaning up as Lisbon came back into the kitchen, carrying Cho's tray. "Thank you," he said, taking it from her. "He asleep yet?"
"Not yet," she said. "Are you planning to camp out here all night?"
"Maybe not all night, but I'll make sure he's sleeping peacefully before I go." Jane had no intention of leaving; Cho's couch was comfortable and would be more restful than the CBI or his motel room. But he didn't want Lisbon trying to make him leave.
"Good," she said, sounding unconvinced.
"Rigsby will stop by in the morning on his way to work," Jane said. "So he can give you a full report."
"You're planning to miss work?" Lisbon was shocked.
"Unless Cho makes a miraculous recovery, I think I'll be more useful here. If a case comes up, you can decide if it merits my attention."
She raised her eyebrows. "Oh? You trust us to decide we might be able to solve one without you?"
He grinned. "It might be good for you to miss me once in a while. You know, absence makes the heart grow fonder."
"Well, your absence would certainly reduce my paperwork load," she replied.
"See? Win-win. Would you like some soup to go? I made more than Cho is likely to eat. You could freeze it for the next time you're under the weather."
"What, you're not going to make me some fresh?"
"I'd be happy to, but I suspect you are an even crankier patient than our friend Cho. It might not be worth risking my life."
"True. Let's see how it goes. You might be able to talk me into leftovers once I'm sure Cho is back on his feet." She yawned.
"Fine." Jane had other ways of getting nutritious food into her, after all. "Get some rest. You deserve a good night's sleep."
"I'll try." She headed for the door, but hesitated before opening it. "Don't startle Cho while he's asleep."
"I'm smarter than that," Jane smiled. He appreciated the warning that Cho probably slept with a gun within reach; he hoped that meant Lisbon did too. With Red John out there, they couldn't be too careful.
"Good. 'Night, Jane."
"Sleep tight, Lisbon." He closed the door behind her, trying not to feel wistful. As much as he enjoyed her company, it was risky spending time together outside of work. He didn't want Red John to realize he cared about her, or in fact any of the team. With luck, his taking care of Cho could be spun as a crafty bit of freeloading, or perhaps currying favor.
Jane finished cleaning up in the kitchen, put the leftover soup away, and settled on the couch with a nice thick book to pass the time. A few chapters later, Cho emerged, wrapped in a bathrobe and looking much too disheveled to be his usual self.
"You gonna stay all night?" Cho asked, resigned.
"I've got a comfy couch and a good book. Nothing else I need. Can I get you anything?"
"I'm fine, just wanted a drink. You can go home, you know."
"Rigsby's stopping by for breakfast. It's just as easy to sleep here," Jane shrugged.
Cho grunted his agreement and wandered back to his room.
mmm
Jane managed a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, which was unusual for him. He woke feeling refreshed, suppressing the urge to whistle a bit as he went about frying his eggs and mixing pancake batter, savoring his first cup of tea of the day.
Cho made a brief but terrifying appearance, shambling to the coffeemaker and staring at it like he'd wandered out of a zombie movie. After a moment, he coughed, sneezed, and shuffled away again. Jane peeked out into the hall to make sure he'd gone back to bed before wiping down the entire kitchen with antibacterial wipes. Again.
More coughing told Jane that Cho hadn't gone back to sleep, so he used the still-hot water left in the kettle to brew some ginger tea, then ventured into Cho's lair to set it on the nightstand.
"Thanks," Cho muttered from behind his book.
"Not going to work today?" Jane feigned surprise.
"Not until I'm sure I'm not contagious. Doctor said at least 24 hours. Why aren't you at work?"
"I promised Rigsby breakfast. Plus, Lisbon really wants to solve a case without me. I figure it can be an early Christmas present."
Cho made a choking, snorting noise that could have been laughter or scoffing or a prelude to convulsions. Jane took that as his cue to leave, though he did wonder whether he should offer to give the sheets a good wash in bleach.
Rigsby's arrival diverted his attention, mostly because Van Pelt was with him. Who did they think they were fooling, he wondered as he closed the door behind them.
"Car trouble," Van Pelt lied with a smile. "Rigsby was kind enough to give me a ride."
Rigsby said, "I figured you'd have enough food for two."
"As it happens, I do," Jane said. "Do you want to put your head in and say good morning to Cho? He's awake, but not happy to be. Don't cross the threshold unless you're prepared to go into a decontamination shower."
"Poor Cho," Van Pelt said. "Is there anything we can get him?"
"We're good for now," Jane told her. Then he frowned as another knock came at the door. He opened it to find Lisbon there, looking grumpy and awkward. "What an unexpected pleasure, Lisbon," he said, beaming at her. "Come in. Rigsby and Van Pelt just arrived. I assume you'd like me to put on some coffee for you?"
Lisbon said, "I thought you were going home, Jane. Good morning, Rigsby, Van Pelt. Did you stop by to check on Cho too?"
They chorused, "Yes, boss."
"Sit, sit," Jane encouraged them. "Unless you'd like to say good morning to Cho." He busied himself in the kitchen, secretly delighted.
"I can't stay long," Lisbon called. "I have an early meeting. I'll just say hello."
The three of them went down the hall to talk with Cho between coughs and sneezes. Jane wondered what Cho really thought of the morning invasion, but perhaps he was grateful for the care of his team.
He was just dishing up breakfast for Rigsby and Van Pelt when they returned, sitting down at the table happily. Lisbon followed soon after, looking at the eggs and bacon wistfully.
"Sit, Lisbon. There's plenty more," Jane encouraged her.
"I can't," she said, then frowned as her phone rang. She answered it, her frown deepening, and Jane saw that it was tidings of a new case. A particularly tricky one, from the way her gaze kept drifting over to him. "Yes. We're on our way," she said finally, then disconnected. "Now I really can't. We're up."
Van Pelt sprang up from her seat eagerly, but Rigsby looked stricken. "Well," Jane said breezily, "off with you, then. Be sure to call and tell me how you found the killer. I look forward to hearing all about it!"
Lisbon gave him an irritated look. "I'm sure you do, especially since this one seems to be a real puzzler. The campus police can't figure out how the victim ended up in the university library stacks when there's no record of them swiping in."
Jane's mind automatically generated hypotheses: The victim's body had been smuggled in by the killer, or the security system had been tampered with, or the victim had been wearing a disguise, possibly one the killer had then used to exit the area. "Sounds like fun. Let me know how it goes."
Lisbon glared at him; he'd played this game before, after all. "Have fun sitting here doing nothing."
"I'm not doing nothing," he replied, offended. "I'm caring for our sick colleague. Otherwise there's nothing I'd like better than to go solve your case for you."
"I could stay," Rigsby said, with his mouth half-full.
Jane suppressed a grin, a little disappointed to have his game with Lisbon interrupted. She, on the other hand, seemed willing to call this a victory. "Great. Rigsby, you're on Cho duty. Jane will go with me. Van Pelt, head to the office and get started with the background on our victim."
"Sure, Boss," Van Pelt replied, heading for the door.
Jane put down his dish towel and untied his apron, setting it on the table beside Rigsby, who looked at it with mild alarm. "Gloves are under the sink, with the antibacterial wipes," Jane told him. "There's plenty of soup in the fridge, along with ginger ale, and crackers in the cupboard."
"Great, thanks," Rigsby said after he swallowed. "See you later."
mmm
The case was not nearly as interesting as advertised, and for once Jane had no incentive to draw it out or wrap it up nicely, other than a day spent in Lisbon's company, which was nearly always enjoyable. He'd had no word from Cho or Rigsby, but when Lisbon called Van Pelt to see what she'd found, she relayed word that all was well. Jane would believe it when he saw it; from what he knew of Rigsby, he suspected he'd have some extra housecleaning to do when he got back to Cho's.
Since he'd left with Lisbon, she had to drop him back at Cho's before beginning the pile of paperwork related to the case, which would include no fewer than three complaints from the local and campus police, he suspected. Still, the case was solved, so she had no real justification for her current air of hostility.
Of course, she could have taken him to the office to pick up his own car, but he knew she wanted to check on Cho herself. She really was a mother hen, despite her attempts to portray a gruff exterior.
Rigsby answered the door showing all the signs of having had a nice nap. Jane hoped Cho had done the same. "Thanks for staying," he said.
Rigsby smiled. "No problem. I'll head back to the office, then."
"We solved the case; go on home," Lisbon said, surprising both of them.
"Thanks, Boss!" Rigsby hurried out the door, as if he was afraid she might change her mind.
Jane went into the kitchen to survey the damage, which wasn't as bad as he'd feared. Dirty dishes had at least made it to the sink, and there was still food in the refrigerator to work with.
Lisbon went straight in to see Cho, joining him a few minutes later. "I think he's worse," she said softly. "I think someone should stay again. I can do it if you want."
"No need, Lisbon. I'm happy to do it." Cho's couch was remarkably comfortable, after all, and Lisbon had a comfy bed she shouldn't have to forego. "Is he running a fever?"
"Looks like it to me, but he says he's fine."
"I'll keep a close eye on him. Can I offer you some dinner?"
"I guess I could stay and help you clean this up," she said, looking at the pile of dishes still in the sink. "Go take a look at him and see what you think."
Jane went down the hallway and peered into the bedroom. His keen eye immediately spotted the extra large soda cup from a nearby convenience store in the trash can, and Cho's setback began to make sense. "I see you sent Rigsby out for junk food."
Cho didn't bother to open his eyes. "Wasn't my idea."
"Did you take your medicine?"
"Of course."
"You look like you could use some aspirin." He was probably running a fever, but Jane feared if he tried to lay his hand on Cho's forehead, he would draw back a stub.
Cho was quiet for a few seconds, then sighed. "Yeah. That would be good."
"I'll get you some water." Jane went back to the kitchen and filled a glass, then stepped into the bathroom to wet a washcloth. Going back into the bedroom, he put the glass on the nightstand and handed the washcloth to Cho. "That'll help cool you down, and here's water for the pills."
"Thanks," Cho said, sounding like he meant it.
"You hungry?"
"No. I'm good. I'll just get some sleep."
"Okay, I'll be on the couch if you need me."
"You don't need to stay."
"Hey, you have a comfortable couch and an impressive library. I may stay forever."
Cho snorted as Jane left the room.
Lisbon had emptied the sink and was wiping down the counters when Jane returned to the kitchen. "Thanks. Let me see what Rigsby left in the fridge."
The refrigerator now lacked anything like meal ingredients, except for soup leftovers and eggs. Jane doubted Lisbon wanted soup two nights in a row, and she wasn't one to eat breakfast for dinner.
She leaned over his shoulder. "I could order us a pizza. Or Chinese. There's a stack of take-out menus by the phone."
"Your choice," he said with a smile. "I'm going to put the kettle on."
mmm
Jane enjoyed their impromptu pizza dinner, even though it was disturbed by Lisbon periodically getting up to look in on Cho. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but she showed no sign of heading back to her paperwork as the evening stretched into night while they conversed.
The third time she yawned, he suggested, "Not that I'm trying to hurry you along, Lisbon, but why don't you head home and get some rest?"
"Yeah, I guess I should." But she showed no sign of getting up.
Jane contemplated suggesting they move to the couch, but then he had a sudden vision of Lisbon falling asleep on his shoulder. It left him breathless with longing and frozen in terror. What if one of Red John's disciples peered into the window and saw that? Besides, it felt like a betrayal. Angela and Charlotte were cold in their graves, so what right did he have to enjoy himself?
Lisbon cleared her throat, and he realized she'd been looking at him while he disappeared down his rabbit hole of self-loathing. "You going to be okay here?" Her voice was soft.
"Right as rain," he assured her. "Cho will probably be better in the morning. If he is, I'll come to work."
"Just let me finish this round of complaint forms before you generate any more," she pretended to grumble.
"Now, what fun would that be?" He grinned at her as she got up.
"For me, a lot. Good night, Jane."
"Sleep well, Lisbon." Jane saw her to the door, then locked up behind her, made sure Cho was still asleep, and settled on the couch.
mmm
Jane was enjoying a rare sound sleep when the sound of a shower starting nearby woke him. Blinking, he glanced over at the cable box in Cho's living room and realized it was already morning.
He stuck his head into Cho's room, where the rumpled bed seemed to indicate a rough night. But when Cho emerged from the bathroom in a robe, he looked more himself than he had in days. "Good morning," Jane said. "Feeling better?"
"Yeah. Fever broke last night," Cho said. "I'm heading to work."
"Great. I'll get breakfast started. If you don't mind giving me a ride to the office, I'll freshen up and get back to work as well."
"Okay." Cho headed for the coffeemaker.
A knock on the door startled them both, but Jane, being fully dressed, went to see who was there. "Good morning, Rigsby."
"Good morning. How's Cho? I, uh, brought him something to cheer him up." Rigsby held up a massive plastic cup that Jane surmised contained a chemically infused, carbonated liquid of some kind.
"He's doing much better. But I'm not sure that won't prompt a relapse," Jane said, standing back to let his friend inside.
"Are you kidding? He's probably in withdrawal," Rigsby grinned.
Cho joined them, fully dressed but hair still wet. "Thanks," he said to Rigsby, taking the cup. "Staying for breakfast? Jane's cooking."
"Sure!" Rigsby replied.
They made short work of the meal; Cho had recovered his appetite, and he and Rigsby ate eggs as fast as Jane could cook them. Then Rigsby drove them all to the office, where Van Pelt and Lisbon were already immersed in their different tasks.
Van Pelt turned as they came into the bullpen, focusing on Cho. "Feeling better?"
"Much," he replied, settling at his desk. "Anything new?"
Jane tuned out their conversation, stretching out on his couch. He'd had a decent night's sleep for once, so he planned to use the time to systematically review the Red John evidence wing of his memory palace.
His train of thought was entirely derailed shortly afterward by a massive sneeze, followed by the sound of blinds rattling. Jane sat up and looked for its source, only to find Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt looking at him with a mixture of expectancy and pleading as another sneeze came from Lisbon's office.
Jane got up, straightened his suit jacket, and headed for the elevator. This was going to take some careful preparation.