Title: Moving Pains
Author: Titan5
Summary: John's family moves and he spends his first weekend in his new home sick. Mostly child John with a little team at the end.
Warning: I'm using MY version of John's backstory, not the one presented in Outcast.
Note: If you are familiar with the "Clown" series about young John, this is set a few months ahead of the events of "Send in the Clowns", although you don't have to have read that to understand this one since it's set earlier. This was written for the Sick Kid Challenge at the Baby Boo and Bear Cub Archive on LJ.
Moving Pains
Rachel Sheppard sighed as they pulled into the driveway of their new home. Right now she was tired enough that she didn't much care what the house looked like, as long as they were here. Joe had been transferred yet again and from the outside, this house looked very similar to the one they had just packed up and left several states away.
"Guess this is it," said Joe, staring out the window.
"Yes, I guess it is," she replied. She put her hand on the door handle, but stopped when she felt Joe's hand on her left arm. Turning, she wondered at the slight frown on his face.
"I'm sorry about this Rachel . . . about all the moving around."
Relaxing a bit, she gave him a smile. "It's no problem. I knew what I was getting into when I married you and I accepted that. I still accept that. Hey, we get to see a lot of the country this way."
Still looking uncomfortable, Joe let out a deep breath and looked down a moment before meeting her eyes again. He was troubled and she wasn't sure why. "What's wrong?"
Shaking his head, he shrugged his shoulders. "I just . . . I know you had some good friends that you had to leave and . . . well, I know base housing isn't exactly fancy. I'll buy us a place of our own one day . . . a nice house to really call home."
Rachel laughed and twisted to place both her hands in Joe's. "You silly, I don't care about any of that. Home is where we are, whether it's base housing or one we bought. You and John are what's important, not how fancy a house we live in. Besides, at least base houses are always clean and ready for us to move into." She touched the side of his face, gently sliding her index finger down his cheek. "I love you Joe Sheppard. That's the only thing you need to concern yourself about. That and sending out for pizza for supper, because no way am I cooking tonight," she finished with an impish grin.
"You got it," he replied immediately. "I'm so lucky to have you."
Reaching around to pull on the door handle, she began getting out of the car and stretching her stiff muscles. "That's right, and remember that thought when you're ordering mushrooms on the pizza tonight."
"Ah, mushrooms?" he complained lightly.
"Mushrooms," she said as she opened the back door of the car. John was leaned over on a pile of stuff in the seat beside him, the car having been stuffed with possessions that wouldn't fit in the trailer they pulled behind them. They had been on the road since four in the morning so they could arrive at their place by noon, giving them time to begin unpacking.
Rachel couldn't help but smile at the sleeping form of her six-year old. It was hard to believe he'd start first grade in just a few short months. Where had the time gone?
"Are you going to wake him up or just stand there and look at him?" asked Joe mischievously.
Smirking at his comment, Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'm waking him, smarty pants." Reaching in, she gently placed her arm on John's leg. "John, honey, we're here at the new house. You want to come in and look?"
Straightening slowly, John rubbed his eyes and then stretched, finally frowning slightly as he noticed they weren't moving and looked at Rachel. "Are we there?"
"Yes, sweetie, we are. Why don't you get out and stretch your legs and then we'll take a look inside."
Yawning, John gave a tiny nod as he climbed out of the car. Rachel hovered a moment until he was awake enough not to stagger and then they joined Joe in front of the car.
"Hey, kiddo, I thought you were going to sleep all day. This is the new place," Joe said with a wave of his hand.
Staring, John looked up at the house. "Is there a back yard?" The look on his face said he'd noticed that there wasn't much of a front yard.
"I don't know, why don't we go see?" asked Joe, leading the way to the front door. He pulled out the key he'd been given and let his family into the house. Rachel walked in with John right behind her. They entered a small, but nice living room with off-white walls and neutral tan carpet. A door to the right led to the kitchen and a hallway across from the door undoubtedly led to the bedrooms.
"Where is my room?" asked John, still looking around.
"You don't have a room," said Joe nonchalantly. "You have to sleep on the front lawn."
John narrowed his eyes darkly at his father, almost making Rachel laugh. "Do not."
"Okay, okay, we'll let you sleep on the couch," said Joe, keeping his face straight.
John's frown deepened and he looked up at Rachel. "I don't have to sleep on the couch, do I Mom?"
"No, honey, of course not. I'm sure the bedrooms are down that hall. Why don't you go look?" Without a word, John gave his father another dark look and then headed down the hall. Rachel sighed and crossed her arms.
"He's kind of grouchy, isn't he?" asked Joe, walking over to put his arms around her waist. "He usually has better come-backs than that."
"Might have something to do with getting him out of bed at 0330 this morning," she responded, loosening her arms to wrap around her husband. "He's probably just tired."
"Probably," he said, snuggling up against her neck. "Maybe he'll take a nap later," he suggested with a wink.
Rachel pushed him away with a grin. "I hope so. We have a lot of work to do unpacking and getting settled so we'll have a place to sleep tonight. I think I'll check out the kitchen."
Joe groaned as she turned her back on him. "Not what I had in mind."
oOo
Rachel placed the last of the glasses in the cabinet, letting out a deep breath as she closed the door. At the sound of her husband entering the room, she turned to watch him plop down in one of the kitchen chairs. "That's the last of the boxes. Everything is in the room it goes in."
"All unpacked I hope."
Joe snorted. "Hardly." He looked around the room, sliding up to sit straighter in the chair. "Hey, the kitchen is looking good."
"I certainly hope so," she drawled as she sank into the chair next to him. "I'm bushed. What'd you say we order that pizza now and take a break?"
"Good idea. Hey, where's John? Haven't heard a peep out of him in hours."
Rachel stretched, arching her aching back and moaning slightly at the pull on the tired muscles. "Well, as of about an hour ago he had most of his stuff unpacked and settled and he looked like he was dozing on his bed. I just left him alone – figured he was exhausted."
Joe opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by a knocking at the kitchen door. They looked at one another a bit wide-eyed since they didn't know a soul on base yet. As if he realized someone needed to answer the door, Joe jumped up and made his way over to do just that. A couple about their age stood on the steps. The man was a little shorter than Joe, with sandy blonde hair cropped short and wire-rimmed glasses. The woman was about Rachel's height, with dark hair tied back in a pony tail. She balanced a young girl on her hip.
"Hi," said the woman with a huge smile that seemed to encompass her whole face. "We're the Mitchells from next door. I'm Carolyn and this is my husband Bob," she said, nodding her head toward her husband, who extended his hand toward Joe.
"Joe Sheppard and this is my wife Rachel. Just transferred in," Joe said as he shook Bob's hand. "Would you like to come in? The kitchen is pretty safe, thanks to Rachel here, but the rest of the house is a bit trickier."
Carolyn turned around and peered through the encroaching darkness. "Kyle, where are you?"
"Here, mom," said a blond boy about John's age, peeping his head around from the other side of his father.
The family of four stepped into the kitchen and Joe closed the door. Rachel indicated the chairs around the table. "Have a seat. I'd offer you something to drink, but all we have right now is water."
"No problem," said Carolyn, settling the girl on her lap. "We actually came over to see if you wanted to come eat pizza with us. We were about to order and thought you might need a break."
Joe and Rachel smiled at one another. "We were just about to order pizza for supper."
"It's settled then," said Bob. "Let's hear what everyone wants and we'll treat you guys tonight at our place. That way you don't have to worry about dirty dishes on your first night."
"Thank you," said Joe. "That would be nice."
"This is Amelia," said Carolyn, noticing Rachel winking at the little girl. "She's three. Her brother is Kyle and he just turned seven."
"Oh, good," said Rachel. "Our son, John, is six. Maybe they'll enjoy playing together. Speaking of John, I should probably go wake him."
"Is he taking a nap?" Kyle asked in amazement, his forehead crinkling in a frown.
Rachel grinned. "Well, I think he dozed off earlier after unpacking his room. We got him up in the middle of the night to leave and I think he was really tired." She stood up and pushed the chair in. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go get him. I know he'll be happy to find out there's someone so close to his age next door."
Carolyn stood and handed Amelia over to Bob. "Watch Amelia for me, hon, and I'll go with Rachel."
Rachel led the way through the living room and down the darkening hallway. "We've got the furniture where we want and the boxes in, we just don't have much actually unpacked yet," she explained.
"I can help, if you like," said Carolyn. "I'm off this weekend."
"Oh, where do you work?" asked Rachel as she entered John's room, frowning at how he had rolled himself up in the blanket.
"I'm a nurse at the hospital. That's how I met Bob, actually. He sprained his ankle on a training exercise. Turns out he's a bit of a klutz."
Rachel sat on the edge of the bed. "John, time to get up. We have company." When he didn't respond, she grew a little concerned. John usually woke up easier than this. Reaching out, she pulled the blanket down and shook his shoulder. "John, honey, are you feeling all right?"
Bleary eyes squinted at her and he brought one hand up to rub his face. "What? Is it morning?" He looked around the room in confusion.
Rachel reached out to brush his hair off his sweaty forehead. "Why are you wrapped up in the blanket? You're getting all hot and sweaty."
"I was cold," he said softy, his voice rough and hoarse sounding. With a brief shiver, he pulled the blanket up around his arms again and then coughed. "Thirsty," he mumbled, snuggling back down in the covers.
"John?" Rachel said as she placed the back of her hand against his forehead. The skin was damp and overly warm and she was beginning to notice his cheeks were flushed. "Honey, I think you have a fever. Do you feel alright?"
More awake now, John peered up at her through still drooping lids. "Throat's kind of sore and my head hurts," he croaked.
"Great," Rachel muttered. "First day on a new base and you're sick. We don't even know anyone yet."
"I'm sorry," he replied in a soft voice.
Rachel chastised herself for voicing her concerns out loud and worrying her son. "No, John, it's not your fault. I don't think you wanted to be sick, did you?" she asked with a smile.
"No."
"Do you have a thermometer?" asked Carolyn. Rachel had forgotten she was in the room.
"Yes," she sighed. "But it's still packed up. Actually, I think I know exactly which box it's in. I'll be right back." She heard Carolyn introducing herself to John as she rushed across the hall to the bathroom. As she pried the tape off the box marked "medicine cabinet", she could hear Carolyn and John talking, but couldn't make out exactly what they were saying and it was driving her crazy. John didn't get sick very often and she found herself worrying about him.
"Yes," Rachel whispered as she latched onto the object of her search and almost ran back across the hall. Shaking it down as she went, she immediately made her way to where Carolyn sat on the edge of the bed. The new neighbor stood and stepped back, allowing Rachel to regain her seat. "Put this under your tongue, hon." John opened his mouth, allowing her to position it before closing around the instrument. Glancing at her watch, she looked up at Carolyn.
"Fever, sore throat, headache, body aches . . . sounds like he's picked up the flu," observed Carolyn. "He sounds like he might be a little congested, too."
Rachel nodded, recent events filling her mind. "Jill Sanders called me the day we left to say she couldn't come say goodbye because all her kids were sick. Guess where John spent most of his time those last couple of days while we were packing?"
Carolyn grinned. "So you're saying she sent a parting gift home with him."
"Apparently," Rachel replied, glancing back down at her watch. She took the thermometer and turned it so she could take a reading. "One oh one," she announced. "John, you are now officially sick." She reached out to brush his hair off his forehead. "I should have known something was wrong when you were so quiet and grouchy earlier. You didn't eat much lunch, either, come to think of it."
"Can I have some water?" he asked, pulling the blanket around him as he shivered with a chill. "My throat feels weird."
"Sure," Rachel replied. "I'll get you some. Are you nauseous?"
John frowned at her over the top of the blanket. "What's that?"
"Sorry, I meant do you feel like you might throw up?" Rachel explained, reminding herself that he was only six.
"No," John said. "But I'm not hungry either. I just want to go back to sleep."
Rachel nodded. "Okay, well that's probably the best thing for you right now. I'll get you a drink and some Tylenol for the fever and be right back, okay?"
When her son nodded, Rachel patted his leg and got up, leading the way back to the kitchen. "I guess fluids and Tylenol and keep an eye on the fever, right?" she asked.
"Yes, that's about all you can do," said Carolyn. "I'm home all weekend, so if you have questions or want me to take a look at him, just holler. We're right next door."
"I guess the pizza dinner is out," said Rachel as they entered the kitchen.
"What?" asked Joe. "Why is pizza out?"
"Well, we can still have pizza, we just can't go anywhere. John's sick. Fever of a hundred one. Carolyn said it looks like the flu."
Joe stood up. "I knew he was acting funny. Should we take him to the doctor? Wait, it's Friday night and we don't have a doctor yet."
"Everything's okay," said Carolyn, taking Amelia when she reached her arms out for her. "There's not much a doctor could do anyway. Just watch his temperature and try to keep him drinking fluids. I told Rachel that I'm available if you guys need me – all you have to do is give me a call."
Rachel finished getting John a cup of water and then turned back to the group. "I'm going to take John some Tylenol. Joe, why don't you go ahead and eat with the Mitchells and I'll sit with John."
"No, I'll stay here with you. We can get together later, when John's up to it," Joe said.
"Maybe we can get together next week," offered Bob.
"That would be great," replied Joe. "Sorry about all the confusion."
"No problem," said Carolyn. "Just remember to call us if you need anything."
"We will," said Rachel. "And thank you. I'd better get this to John," she said, nodding toward the cup of water in her hand. She heard Joe ushering their new neighbors to the door as she left and hoped this wasn't an omen of things to come.
oOo
Twenty-four hours later, Rachel sat on the edge of the bed, holding the thermometer in John's mouth. He'd gotten increasingly worse, his fever creeping upward a tenth of a degree at a time. When he woke, he seemed disoriented, asking where his friends were or what day it was or when dad was coming back home. Pulling the instrument from her sleeping son's mouth, she read it and looked up at Joe.
"104.2," she said, her voice shaking a bit.
Joe paced around the room once, running his hand through his hair a couple of times before stopping to stand next to her. "Should we take him to the hospital? That seems awfully high."
"It is high," she replied. "I don't know. Carolyn said we could come get her if we got worried. I think I'm worried."
With a nod, Joe said, "Do it. I'll sit with John."
Since their phone wasn't hooked up yet, Rachel hurried directly over to the Mitchell's front door and knocked frantically. Carolyn answered and evaluated her in one swift look. "He's worse?"
"His fever is up to 104.2. I've been giving him Tylenol on schedule, even waking him up last night to keep it in him, but it's not working. I don't know what else to do. He's never been this sick before." And he hadn't. John had always been healthy, with only the occasional cold and that barely making a dent in his energy.
Carolyn turned just as Bob appeared behind her. "Hey, what's up?"
"John's fever is getting pretty high," Carolyn responded.
A frown creased Bob's forehead and he gave a tight nod toward Rachel. "Go. I've got the kids." Carolyn reached up to kiss him on the cheek and then the two women were rushing back to the Sheppard house. Once in John's room, Carolyn did a quick exam of John and then pulled the blanket off him.
"Okay, we're going to try cooling him down here, because kids shouldn't be stuck in scary hospitals unless they have to be, but if his temperature goes up much more, we're taking him anyway."
Rachel noticed Joe looked almost as relieved as she felt to have someone who knew what to do there, directing things. "Just tell us what to do."
"We need a bowl of lukewarm water, not hot but not cold either, and some rags. We're going to strip him down to his underwear and sponge him off. You don't want the water too cold though, or that could just stress his system even more. And you might want some towels to tuck in around him for the dribbles," said Carolyn, already working to remove his pajama top.
"I'll get the water," said Rachel.
"I've got towels and washrags," said Joe.
It felt good to be doing something, to be helping her son instead of sitting there watching him get sicker. It seemed to take forever before she thought the temperature was right, but when she was satisfied with it, she quickly filled a large bowl until it was almost full, leaving enough room at the top to walk without sloshing it over. She then carefully made her way back to the bedroom. Joe had already cleared the nightstand and put a handtowel across it. John was undressed, except for his Spiderman underwear, and shivering slightly. Carolyn and Joe had placed a couple of large towels underneath him.
Rachel and Joe watched as Carolyn showed them how to gently dampen John's skin with the wet rags and then all three of them began to work. Carolyn stopped every fifteen minutes to take his temperature. Slowly, but surely, his fever began to come down.
oOo
Rachel yawned as she turned on the coffee pot. Footsteps behind her told of Joe's arrival and she turned to face him, trying to read his face in the early morning light. It had been a long night, with John's fever yo-yoing up and down. "So?"
"102.4 and holding, apparently," he said with a tired smile. "Hasn't gone up in almost two hours now. Maybe that means we're through the worst of it."
"I hope so," she said with a long exhale. "This has been one of the longest nights of my life." Joe stepped forward to wrap his arms around her and she found herself burying her face in his shoulder. The feel of his arms, warm against her back, and his smell, so close and intense, filled her with a sense of peace she had missed the past couple of days. She was suddenly struck with how horrible this would have been if he'd been overseas when it happened, leaving her alone to deal with the fear.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked, apparently sensing her unease.
"Yeah," she said, leaning back so she could look at his face. "I'm just so glad you're here."
"Me too," he whispered, gently brushing her hair back off the side of her face and then leaning forward to kiss her. Then his forehead was pressed next to hers, the tips of their noses touching in a moment of intimacy born of their shared relief.
The sudden knock at the door a few feet away caused them both to jump. "We need to have a talk with her about her timing," Joe said wryly.
"We'll do no such thing," said Rachel. "Not after what she did last night."
With a sigh, Joe leaned against the counter and rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, I guess we do owe her one."
Rachel opened the door, noticing Carolyn looked almost a tired as she felt. "Coffee's on," she said as Carolyn came in. "He's been at 102.4 for two hours now."
"That's good," said Carolyn. "Did he vomit any more after I left?" The second time John's fever had spiked, he'd vomited in the middle of their attempts at cooling him off and then cried. He kept telling them how cold he was as they cleaned him up and they'd had a hard time keeping him still. At one point, he squirmed out of their grip and ran down the hall to stop dead in the living room and ask where they were. When Joe tried to pick him up, he'd yelled at him to let him go because this wasn't where he lived and his real dad was across the ocean flying airplanes. That had shaken Joe and Rachel more than anything else about the whole night.
"No, no more vomiting," said Rachel. "We got a little juice down him, but not much. I can't seem to keep him awake enough to drink."
"I'll check on him after coffee," Carolyn said, rubbing her eyes. "We don't want him to get dehydrated because he'll just end up in the hospital in spite of all our efforts to prevent that. If his fever stays down, he should be more lucid today."
"I hope so," said Rachel. Having John hallucinate had almost undone her. "By the way, I can't thank you enough for all your help. I seriously doubt we could have made it last night without you. We're not usually this much trouble."
"Gah, I hope not," said Carolyn with a smirk. "You've only been here what, a little less than two days, and you've already worn me out."
Rachel chuckled. "Sorry about that, but we'll make it up to you. When we're a little more settled and John's better, we'll have you over. Joe grills a really good steak and I'll make twice baked potatoes. We can let the kids make s'mores or something."
"You're on," said Carolyn. "I never turn down offers of good food. I think I'm going enjoy having you guys next door, even if you can be kind of a pain."
Another knock at the door had Rachel opening it to Kyle, looking bleary-eyed and annoyed. "Mom, Dad said he needs you. Amelia wet the bed again."
Carolyn rolled her eyes. "Again? Tell him I'll be there in a minute, after I look at John."
"O-kay," he drawled out as he turned around and left.
"Okay, now that is a real pain. Take my kids for a day so I can get something done and then we'll call it even," Carolyn groaned.
"I can do that," said Rachel.
"I should snap that up before you realize what you just volunteered for," said Carolyn. "Guess I'd better go check John. You can pay me in coffee on the way out. No one at our house has been coherent enough to make any yet."
oOo
When John opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was. The ceiling was different than any he was familiar with, so he let his eyes wander down to the walls. That was when he realized his head hurt. The rest of him felt weird too, like when he played really hard all day and came home tired and sore. And he still didn't really know where he was.
"Hey, are you awake?"
Shifting his head on the pillow, John discovered a boy about his age sitting on his toybox with a comic in his lap. It disturbed John that he didn't have a clue who this kid was or what he was doing in his room. And John guessed it was his room since all his stuff was here. It did look kind of familiar, but only in a I've been here once before kind of way, not in a this is my room kind of way.
"Can you talk?" asked the boy with a deepening frown.
"Course I can," John snapped. The soft, hoarse voice hardly conveyed the annoyance he'd intended at the ridiculous question.
"Sorry," the kid said with a shrug. "Mom says you've been pretty sick. I didn't know if it made you where you couldn't talk. I'm Kyle. I live next door."
John edged up on his elbows, ignoring the way the action made his head spin. "I'm John. You live next door?" Next to door to where was the question. And where were his parents?
"Yep. You guys moved in Friday."
Okay, that made sense. John remembered moving and he was beginning to remember this room, in a dream-like way. "What day is it?" he asked, letting his aching head drop back down to the pillow. He no longer had the strength to hold himself up.
Kyle's eyes widened. "Wow, you don't know what day it is? Cool!"
John was pretty sure it wasn't cool to be this confused, but he wasn't admitting that. "No. Is it Saturday?"
"Nope, Sunday afternoon. My mom had to go home to change Amelia's clothes. She spilled juice all down the front of her shirt. She's my little sister. Anyway, she was squalling and everything so Mom took her home to get her cleaned up."
"She cried just cause she spilled her juice? How old is she?" asked John.
"She's three. I think it's on account of her being a girl."
"Yeah," John agreed. "Girls cry a lot." He'd never understood that and it made him feel weird when they burst into tears over some little thing. Girls were just strange.
"Tell me about it," Kyle moaned. "You should be glad you don't have any sisters."
"I am," John agreed. "Where's my mom and dad?" he asked, beginning to get nervous that he hadn't seen or heard them.
"Your dad had to go fill out some paperwork or something, so my dad took him so he could show him around. Your mom had to run to the store for something, more medicine I think. Anyway, my mom was staying here with you, but Amelia spilled her juice, like I said. She said I should sit with you so if you woke up, you wouldn't be scared."
"I'm not scared," John stated firmly. Okay, he was a little, but no way was he admitting that, especially to some kid he just met.
Kyle shrugged his shoulders again. "I think she just meant cause if you woke up and no one was here and you didn't know where they were, you might be upset. She didn't want you to think everyone up and left you here alone or anything."
Thinking briefly about waking up alone in a strange house, John realized that probably would have freaked him out. He still wasn't admitting it, though. At least the kid didn't seem to be making fun of him.
"Is there anything cool to do around here?" asked John, changing the subject.
"Nah, not much. Larry, down the street, he's ten and he's got a skateboard. He's pretty good with it. I like to go watch him and his buddies. Sometimes they let me ride a minute. My mom won't let me have one."
"Mine won't either," John said with a sigh. "She says they're too dangerous."
Kyle nodded. "That's what my mom says. She's a nurse and she says she sees all the kids that get hurt on them. One time, she said this kid got his arm torn almost clean off."
John's mouth dropped open. "Really? That's cool! I'd like to see that. Do you ever get to see anything cool like that?"
Leaning back against the wall, Kyle shook his head. "Nah, mom says I'm too young to see that stuff. Maybe when I'm older she'll take me with her so I can see some really gruesome things."
"Think she'd let me go too?" John asked, hope springing up within him.
"Maybe, if we both still live here. Usually when I get some really cool friends, we move."
John felt the pain of missing his old friends twinge deep inside. "Yeah, me too." He could still see Bobby and John Mark chasing him through the woods with their stick-guns. They'd found a perfect little gulch and made a fort that no one knew about and the woods around it served as their playground. The area was right behind the little row of houses they lived in and a fence on the other side prevented them from wandering too far. As long as they stayed within the little woodlot, their parents let them have free run of the place.
"You boys okay?"
John looked up to see a woman who looked vaguely familiar holding a girl that had to be Amelia. "Hey, you're awake," she said when she saw John. "You may not remember me since you were pretty sick when we met. I'm Carolyn, Kyle's mom." The woman set the girl down and walked over to feel his forehead with the back of her hand. "Fever's not too bad. How do you feel?"
"Okay," John said quietly.
Carolyn's blue eyes sparkled as she lifted one eyebrow slightly. "You're a six-year old with the flu, young man. One thing you are not is okay. Let's try again. I'll be more specific and you be honest," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Does your head hurt?"
John's eyes darted to the doorway for a moment and then back to the woman. Where was his mom? He didn't know this woman, even if she seemed nice. He didn't feel good and he missed his old house and he just wanted his mom. The woman continued to look at him, making him afraid not to answer. "A little. Will my mom be back soon?"
Carolyn smiled and patted his arm. "Yes, she should be back any minute. Do you feel sick to your stomach?"
"No. My throat hurts a little. Can I have something to drink?"
"Yes, you can," she replied with a smile. "I can get water or apple juice. Or your mom will be back in a few minutes and you can see what she brings."
"Apple juice is okay," he said. His throat really did feel scratchy, which made him want to cough. He hated coughing when he was sick because it made his head hurt worse.
A sound at the other end of the house had them all turning their head for a second. John's heart began racing with anticipation. "Is that my mom?"
"I'll just bet it is," Carolyn said, standing up and reaching down to take Amelia's hand. "Let's go back up front and tell Rachel that John wants to see her. Kyle, you too," she commanded. They had just reached the door when his mom stepped in.
"Hey, sorry I took so long." Rachel looked over to see John was awake and a big smile brightened her face. John could not remember ever being this relieved to see her. He suddenly wanted all these people to go away so his mom could take care of him, make him feel better.
"Mom?" John was a little surprised and embarrassed by how shaky his voice sounded, like he was about to burst into tears or something. He hoped Kyle hadn't noticed.
Carolyn leaned over and said something to Rachel so quietly that John couldn't hear. But he didn't much care when the Mitchell's left and his mother walked over to sit beside him. Before he could say anything, she pulled the blankets back and pulled him into her lap, wrapping her arms around him. "Are you okay, hon? I'm sorry I went off and left you like that. I really didn't expect you to wake up just yet." She pushed his hair back off his forehead and pressed her lips against his skin in a slow kiss. "I don't think your fever has come back up."
John hugged his mom tight, burying his face in her chest, unsure of why he was so desperate for her touch. He wanted to tell her he missed her and that he didn't want her to leave again, but he couldn't seem to get his voice to work. Instead, he just relaxed into her warm embrace. He was already beginning to feel better.
oOo
Blinking slowly, John opened his eyes to see his mom's face, just as it had looked all those years ago. She smiled down at him and leaned over until she was inches from his face. "You're still my boy, John. I'm always with you, never forget that." Bending further, she kissed him slowly on the forehead. He could smell her, that familiar light fragrance of flowers that he had always loved and he inhaled deeply.
"I love you mom," he whispered. Blinking slowly, John opened his eyes to find that he was alone. Lifting his aching head off the pillow, he looked around his empty room. It had been a dream. Sadness, sudden and deep, stabbed him, making his eyes water and his chest ache. A coughing fit broke through the emotional moment, forcing him to sit up so he could breathe through it. That really did make his eyes water, as well as his nose run. Reaching over for a tissue, he blew his nose and then sighed. How sad. He was a sick forty-year old Air Force pilot missing his mother.
He was about to plop back down when someone knocked on the door. It was probably one of his team bringing him supper. He thought the door open and then widened his eyes. His whole team walked in, Teyla carrying the expected tray of food, followed by Rodney with a handful of plastic cases and Ronon with a huge bowl. "Hey, guys," he rasped and then coughed, his throat still sore and scratchy.
"Here," Teyla said, suddenly thrusting a box of juice at him. It was ready to go, so John drank greedily, trying to soothe the itch in his throat. The cold liquid quenched a bit of the fire there.
"Thanks," he said when he was done. Teyla was busy rearranging his pillows and adding one from the chair so he could sit back against them. Taking the box of juice, she then helped him scoot back and get situated against the fluffy pile. "What's up?" he asked, watching Rodney manhandle his laptop.
"We figured you needed some company," Ronon said, setting the large bowl he was carrying on the table before snatching a handful of popcorn from it.
Rodney handed him several DVD boxes as he waited on the computer to boot up. "More specifically, I thought you were probably past the sleep-most-of-the-time stage and entering the more-awake-but-too-weak-to-do-anything stage. That fosters boredom and frustration, which slows the recovery process. So here we are. I scoured the labs and got some DVD loans so maybe we could see something new."
"People loaned you their DVDs?" asked John incredulously. "Of their own free will?"
"Funny, Colonel," snapped Rodney. "Yes, of course they did." Teyla cleared her throat. "Uh, Teyla may have been with me to explain they were for your benefit. It never hurts to mention you're helping a sick friend."
"Doesn't hurt to have Teyla do the asking, either," commented Ronon between mouthfuls of popcorn.
"You might want to leave some of that for the movie, Conan," said Rodney with an annoyed sigh. "So, how do you feel?" he asked, directing his comment to John.
John shrugged his shoulders. "Like I've got the flu. Speaking of which, aren't you guys afraid of getting sick?"
"Jennifer said if you could refrain from sneezing and coughing on us and we didn't get too close, we should be okay. Which is why I'll be staying over here," said Rodney. "Okay, the computer is ready. Which movie do you want?"
John handed the pile back to Teyla, even though he had never really looked through them. "I don't care. I doubt I'll be awake for the whole thing anyway, so you guys should choose." His head hurt and his body felt like he'd been on a five day run with no rest. No way was he watching a two hour movie. He'd be lucky if he was coherent through supper. Teyla set a tray on his lap with a bowl of soup, a wrapped turkey sandwich, and several containers of Jello and pudding.
"Teyla, I'm not really hungry. Who did you think you were feeding here?"
Removing all but one container of pudding and one of Jello, Teyla carried the lifted food items to the table. "Rodney added the extras for himself and Ronon. They were apparently of the opinion that popcorn alone would not be enough to snack on."
"He didn't touch those, did he?" asked Rodney, inspecting the dessert containers carefully.
"No, he didn't," answered John, trying for his best annoyed tone. He stuck his spoon in his soup and stirred it around for a few moments. Feeling eyes on him, he glanced up to find Teyla standing beside the bed looking at him. "What?"
"Are you all right, John? You seem . . . sad."
"I'm fine," he answered quickly, diverting his eyes back to his soup. "Just . . . tired."
Teyla pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat down. "I have noticed that when I am ill, as you are now, that I find myself missing my mother. I know that it has been a long time since she was with me and that I am now a grown woman, able to care for myself. And yet when I feel poorly, I miss her. I miss her touch and her care. I miss the way she made me feel safe . . . protected . . . loved. I suppose that is silly."
John sat stirring his soup for a few moments, wondering if Teyla was somehow reading his mind. He wanted to respond, but he wasn't good at this stuff. It took a minute for him to build enough courage to even try. "It's not silly." He stopped playing with his soup and looked up at her. She had the most intense eyes. For a brief moment, he saw his mother again and felt the pain of missing her renewed.
"Mothers are special that way," he said softly. "They make us feel like we're safe . . . no matter what."
Teyla dipped her head forward once. "I agree. But I have come to realize that even though my mother is no longer here, I am still kept safe and made to feel protected, even loved. For now I am surrounded by –" She was cut off by Ronon growling loudly at Rodney, who was currently in some kind of hand battle with the big guy over the stack of DVDs. " . . . by children," she finished with a deep sigh.
John chuckled softly as they watched a tug of war evolve over one particular case while Rodney ranted about barbarians with no sense of class. "And yet you know those children would do anything for you, down to giving their life if they had to." He met her eyes. "All of them."
The annoyance on her face gave way once again to her bright smile. "Yes, I know this." She took his hand in hers. "And I know that the same could be said for each of us."
John returned her smile. "I know it too."
Ronon let go of the DVD case, causing Rodney's arm to jerk back so fast that the DVD went flying out of his hand. Teyla and John laughed so hard that he ended up coughing. When he finally quit, Teyla was there with another box of cold juice to ease the fire in his throat while Rodney and Ronon looked on in worry until he assured them he was okay. They weren't his mom, but they were his team . . . and they were his friends. And that was enough.
THE END