Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. The show, and the characters used in this fanfic, are the property of ABC. I'm not making money off of this story, so please don't sue.
Inside the room, the bed was warm. The covers were soft. The pillows, despite being slept on for the past nine and a half hours, were still relatively fluffy.
Unfortunately, under the covers lay a very sick little girl. Normally, she'd be up as soon as her alarm sounded, but today it was an effort just to turn off the alarm. She yawned, coughed into her hand, and then wiped the hand along her nightgown.
She hated feeling this yucky.
Footsteps. Hovering outside her room. Ordinarily, Katie would be up when she head these, or at least getting ready to get up. She wasn't the type to sleep in.
Usually.
It was just that her throat ached, her head hurt, and her stomach felt like it had been twisted into knots and then drained of fluid.
It was that time of the year. She always got the flu in mid March. Right before spring. Her old mom thought it was related to her tonsils, but the last time they had been to the doctor, he had said that they didn't need to be taken out.
She supposed that was good, since taking them out would mean an operation and lots of soreness afterwards. But it would also mean no more sore throats, and that meant her current one would be long gone.
There was a quick rapping on her door. "Katie, it's time for breakfast!"
"Umph," was the response. She couldn't eat. She could drink some water, maybe, but food would make her sicker.
Another knock, at least twice as loud this time.
"Time to get up!" called the increasingly familiar voice. Still cheerful, not annoyed yet.
"Mmph," was the barely audible reply.
"I'm coming in if you don't answer," the voice warned, growing a little edgy. "One…two…" Here she let a long pause pass before adding, "Three!" and an even longer pause before she opened the door.
Loudly. Katie winced. Pulled one of the pillows over her ears to drain out the voice.
The voice hovered in the hallway for a minute, giving Katie one last chance to get out of bed and start getting dressed. It looked like the voice had merely gained a shadow as the door opened. A pleasant faced blonde hovered in the doorway for a minute. Upon realizing Katie wasn't about to budge, she heaved a heavy sigh—which the other girl did not hear—and walked over towards the bed and pulled one of the blankets away from Katie's face.
Her plan had been to strip the bed entirely, but Katie must have anticipated this and hung on as though her life depended on it. The one blanket fell on the floor, looking rather weak.
Katie rolled over on her side, securing the already tightly wrapped blankets around her further.
"Katie, I don't have time for this," the woman said, standing over her. "Your brother's already dressed and brushed his teeth. You don't want to be late for school. Dad's already left for work, and I don't have time to drive you."
Katie poked her head from under the blankets. "I can't go to school today, Mommy. I'm sick."
Katie never faked being sick, but she also hadn't been living with the blonde for more than a few months. Besides, she didn't have the energy to explain that she always got sick this time of year. And there hadn't been any reason to mention it in the previous weeks in case the flu skipped a year. Or she outgrew it, like a pair of old sneakers.
Hair fell in Katie's face as the woman touched her forehead. She wrinkled her nose to avoid sneezing.
"Ooh, honey, you are burning up." There was no need for a thermometer. She knew fevers all too well to know that Katie wasn't faking. Even if she didn't have a temperature, she looked horrible. Sweat poured over her too pale face. Her voice sounded weak.
No, Katie definitely would not be going to school that day.
The impatient voice took on its gentle tone again. "Where does it hurt?"
"All over. I can't swallow real good," Katie added.
The woman nodded. "Well, you certainly aren't going to school today. I'm just going to check who's on the schedule and see if I can't come in later…"
"Mom, where are my red socks?"
A twelve year old boy with sandy blonde hair entered the room, completely dressed except barefoot.
"They're on the dryer. I did the socks last night," she replied absently.
"Why's Katie still in bed?" he asked. "Is she dying?"
"Yes."
Juliet rolled her eyes as she brushed some hair out of Katie's face. "You're not going to die, sweetie." To the boy, she explained, "She's not feeling too well. Can you tell the principal that she won't be in school today?"
"Mo-om, we're in different buildings on different streets."
"That's right. I forgot." She ran a hand through her hair. "I'll call the principal." She sat up quickly. "Honey, did you finish your breakfast?"
He nodded, crossing over to Katie. She nudged her head toward him like a cat. "Are you going to get her a babysitter?"
"Not at 7:30 in the morning. I'll just call my secretary and tell her to reschedule my patients." Her nose wrinkled involuntarily. "It was only supposed to be a half day…"
"I can do it," he volunteered, taking over Juliet's job of getting Katie's hair out of her face. Katie managed a smile at this suggestion. "Can he, mommy?"
Juliet shook her head. "Absolutely not. You'll miss school, Jamie."
His eyes narrowed at the nickname. Unwilling to start a fight, Juliet quickly apologized.
"You don't want to get behind," Juliet amended. "The last thing you'll want to do this weekend is catch up with all the work you missed today."
"Mom, it's not like I'll be missing anything important. I mean," he added, before she could go off on some rant about how school was always important, how grades were everything, how a single bad grade would keep him out of his first choice college…"all I have before lunch is a double period of gym, art, and study hall. When you get back from work, I can take the late bus. I'd get there before the end of lunch."
"He's good at babysitting," croaked Katie, now making an effort to sit up in bed.
Juliet pressed her lips together, a sign that she was seriously considering the situation.
"Your lunch ends at 1:00? And you're sure you'd get there by then?"
"Yeah. Kids do it all the time." He gave Katie a look she knew all too well. It meant that he wasn't telling the whole truth, but she better not say anything or else he'd get caught.
Usually, it was the look he used when he gave (or, more accurately, stole) her extra cookies at the foster home.
"All right. I'll go in right now, and I'll get home by 12:30. What time does the bus come?"
"12:35."
Juliet smiled. "That would be a big help, James. I hope it's just a bug, but at least it's Friday." She bent over and gave Katie a kiss on her forehead, then gave James a quick hug. "There's juice and popsicles downstairs. She can watch TV if she feels up to it. I promise I'll be home soon. I'll stop at the market and pick up some chicken soup. Crackers, too. Would you like that?"
Katie nodded as she repositioned her head on the pillows.
"James, if her throat gets worse, have her gargle with salt water. No milk. Tea's fine—it's in the cabinet above the dryer. Katie, you can get up to go to the bathroom, but I need you to stay in bed. I'm going to have to change your sheets and blankets later…"
Juliet continued speaking, partly to the kids but mostly to herself. "I'll call your father just to let him know. There are more blankets in the hallway closet if she needs any. Katie, I'll give you a bath when I get back. I think that will help." She paused. "I guess that's it. Love you both!"
Katie groaned and rolled over in her bed. James, better known as Sawyer to his friends, tossed his bag on the floor and grabbed the sole defeated blanket. Pulled it over Katie's face teasingly, then plopped on the bed. Narrowly missing Katie's feet. He put a hand over her forehead and then let out a low whistle.
"Whoa, freckles, you really weren't faking!"
The seven year old pulled the blanket down so that she would see and promptly rolled her eyes. "When'd you first guess?"
Normally, that remark would have warranted a tickle attack, but Sawyer knew that he'd have to clean up the vomit. Besides, she really did look sad. And she was nestling next to him, her head on his shoulder. He moved some of her hair out of her face.
"Don't leave," she mumbled as her eyes began to close.
He moved his shoulder slightly and put an arm around her. "I'm right here, freckles," he said, just loudly enough for her to hear him.