NCIS Agent Chris LaSalle was startled out of his early morning daydream by the sound of a loud sneeze. For a second he had thought that maybe it was a gunshot. The Alabama native jumped so badly that he almost dumped all of his hot coffee onto his lap; that would not have been a pleasant start to his day. His blue gaze scanned the office to see where the offensive noise had come from.

It was none other his partner Merri Brody, looking like death itself. She was late crawling into work, something she'd never done before. LaSalle was surprised to see her. The past few days she'd been a bit off, feeling under the weather as she put it; it started after she tackled that suspect and wound up falling into the man's artificial pond with him. Pride had told her not to come in today when they were getting ready to lock up last night.

Brody's normally well kempt, button up exterior was disheveled. She wasn't wearing a pants suit that LaSalle had grown accustom too. Instead, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater of all things. Her short hair, which she always kept neatly brushed, was in a terrible state. Her large brown eyes were bloodshot and puffy. And her nose was a bright red while her cheeks were pale.

Hell hath frozen over, thought LaSalle.

"Thought Pride told you to stay home today?" LaSalle drawled, standing up and eyeing his partner with concern.

"I'm fine," her normally bubbling tone was congested and nasally. "Just got a little cold."

"Just a little cold, huh?" He gave her a 'you've got to try better than that' type of look, "Looks to me like this cold of yours is kicking your ass."

She shot him her signature death glare, the one she used while interrogating suspects. Brody sat down at her desk and rubbed her hands over her face. She sneezed loudly into her elbow and swore under her breath. Brody was quick to snag up a tissue.

"I thought I told you to take the day off, Brody?" Snapped Pride, who'd been pouring himself a cup of coffee in the office kitchen, "What the hell are you doing here? You should be home, resting."

"I'm fine." Brody failed to suppress her cough; she reached out to boot up her computer.

"The hell you are." LaSalle said, standing behind her now.

He'd moved without her realizing. She looked up at him and he flashed her one of his charming smiles. Brody secretly loved those smiles. Her partner reached around her and turned her computer back off.

"Pride said to stay home." He chided her, "Should've listened to him."

His nostrils were assaulted with the smell of Vick's Vapor Rub and liquid Dayquil. Normally his partner smelled like lemons, strawberries, and fresh flowers. Lemon is her favorite type of soap, strawberries her shampoo, and fresh flowers her perfume.

"I'm fine." She lied again. "I've worked with worse."

Pride and LaSalle exchanged looks. Pride gave the Alabama native a nod. LaSalle took ahold of Brody's elbow and gently hauled her to her feet. He grabbed her purse with his free hand and started to lead her towards the door.

"What are you doing?" She asked, confusion in her gaze.

"Call it an intervention," Pride told her, "Take her home and keep her there, LaSalle. Make sure our Agent Brody is back to fighting condition before she sets foot back into this building."

It was a direct order.

"Will do, Pride." LaSalle said with a nod.

He led her out the doors and headed straight for his truck. Brody struggled in his grip a bit.

"I am capable of driving myself, LaSalle."

"I know that," he said, opening up the passenger door and helped her into the seat, "But what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you drive home by yourself?"

Before she had time to answer, LaSalle handed her, her purse and closed the door with one of his charming smile upon his lips. He climbed into the driver seat and fired up his truck. Instead of heading in the direction towards her apartment, LaSalle turned towards the French Quarter, heading for his apartment.

"Why are we heading to your place?" Brody asked, before she had to pull a tissue out of her pocket and stifled a sneeze with it.

"I don't feel like raiding your fridge for anything. Besides, I've got all the fixings at my place to cook you up a homemade chicken noddle soup."

Brody sighed and gave a small pout, "Seriously, LaSalle, you don't have to do this. I can take care of myself."

"Of course you can, Brody. I'm just lending an extra hand." The tone in his voice told her not to press the subject.

Knowing all the shortcuts, it didn't take LaSalle very long to drive to his house. Before Brody knew it, he was parked and getting out of his truck. He opened her door and gave her his hand, helping her. His warm, callused hand felt nice in hers.

Brody let herself be led into his apartment. It was small and homey with all the telltale traces of him being a perpetual bachelor. LaSalle moved some things, mostly semi-clean clothing, half finish Lego sculptures, and newspapers from off of his couch.

"Make yourself at home, Brody." He said, "If you'd like I can draw you a hot bath…it might help take some of the aches away? I'll also make you some hot tea with honey."

She shot him a look, studying his face. Brody was trying to decide if he was pulling her leg. For once, LaSalle wasn't joking. He was being completely serious with her. After a brief moment, she gave him a nod.

"I'd like that."

LaSalle smiled and wondered off into his bathroom, whistling an unfamiliar jazz tune as he began to fill his tub up with hot water and bubble bath solution. This will give me time to start cooking that chicken soup I promised, he thought to himself. As the tub was filling up, LaSalle raided his bedroom for a change of clothes for Brody. He didn't think she'd be very comfortable in the jeans she was wearing. All he found was a pair of old sweat pants and a baggy, faded t-shirt that read University of Alabama. He also grabbed an old quilt from his closet.

He handed the clothes to Brody and shooed her off into the bathroom, giving her a brief description of how to turn the water off. Shutting the door behind her, LaSalle chucked the quilt on the couch, Just in case she gets cold and needs it.

Then LaSalle went to work in the kitchen. He pulled out a small boneless chicken breast from the freeze, thawed it out in the microwave, and diced it into small pieces. He threw this in a pot of water with shredded carrots, celery, chicken stock, some spices, and set the pot to boil.

He then broke out his grandmother's old tea kettle and set about brewing up some hot tea for his partner. While that was going, LaSalle placed a pile of flour on his kitchen counter, threw some parsley in with it, and cracked three eggs into it. He kneaded this into a firm dough and then rolled it out and cut it into manageable strips which he then slowly added to the boiling broth.

Brody took her sweet time with the bath, soaking it for all its worth. She waited until the water was starting to turn chilly by the time she decided that she needed to get out. Brody emptied the tub, dried herself off, and proceeded to slip into the clothes that LaSalle had lent her. They were a bit baggy and out of habit she sniffed them. They smelled clean enough.

When she opened the door to the bathroom, her momentarily clear nostrils picked up the scent of mouthwatering chicken soup. She padded barefooted over to the kitchen doorframe and leaned against it, watching LaSalle work. Brody couldn't help but smile.

"If you want, Brody," he said, not turning around but knowing she was there, "You can look through my DVD collection and pick out a movie to watch. How was the bath by the way?"

"The bath was great. Thank you, LaSalle. I didn't realize how badly I needed it."

"Don't think nothing of it." He drawled with a smile and handed her a mug of steaming, hot tea. He silently approved of the clothes he'd given her, thinking they made her look cute as a bug. "Now, go find yourself a movie to watch. The soup is just 'bout done. I'll bring it to you when it's ready."

"Will you watch the movie with me?" She asked lightly, treading uncertain water.

"Of course I will." He responded instantly.

LaSalle watched as one of her beautiful smiles graced her face. Brody set the tea down on the coffee table and knelt down in front of his leaning tower of DVDs. The bath had brought color back into her cheeks and her attractive brown eyes were no longer bloodshot or puffy.

He went back to the soup and did a final taste test, Hot damn, that's perfect!

"Oh!" Brody's excited cry reached LaSalle's ears as he was preparing her a bowl, "You've got 'Pride and Prejudice'! It's the 2005 version with Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen – my favorite."

"I do?" He asked, surprised and then added, "Oh yeah! Pride's daughter lent it to me months ago. She said it was really good. I never got around to watching it."

"You're watching it now, Agent LaSalle." Brody said with a broad smile, "It's wonderful. I just love Mr. Darcy!"

"Well, here." LaSalle handed her the bowl of soup, "You eat this and I'll set it up for us to watch. How 'bout that?"

Brody agreed eagerly and took a seat down on his couch. She was surprised to find it comfortable. That got her mind wondering how often her partner wound up sleeping on it. The image of LaSalle being shirtless and sprawled out asleep upon this couch entered her brain and, shocked with herself, Brody quickly banished it. She blamed it on being sick.

Being ever the gentleman, LaSalle sat down next to Brody, but he was kind enough to not invade her personal space. The movie began to play and LaSalle asked for a quick run through.

"That'll spoil it." Brody protested with a soft groan.

"I just want to be prepared," LaSalle said with a shrug, "In case it's boring or something."

His partner picked up one of his couch pillows and whacked him with it, "Just hush up and watch, LaSalle. You'll like it. I promise." Then, she tasted the soup, and made an approving noise in her throat.

"You truly are an odd bird, Brody. You're sicker than a dog and still got a bit of fight in you."

He was rewarded with one of her laughs. He enjoyed her laughs; they warmed a man right to the backbone and made even the most miserable of days seem just that much brighter. As Brody had promised, LaSalle did find himself enjoying the movie.

Of course he couldn't be 100% silent throughout it; that was practically impossible for him. He asked questions and Brody, feigning annoyance, was more than happy to answer them. At the halfway point, she mentioned that she was feeling chilled. LaSalle reached up behind her, arm draping over her shoulders, and pulled the quilt into view.

Brody thanked him and wrapped it around herself like a cloak. Then, to his upmost amazement, Brody curled herself next to him. She laid her head upon his shoulder and snuggled as closely as she could to his warmth. A small yawn escaped her lips.

LaSalle timidly let his arm ensnare her and when she didn't protest, he held her gently, hand on top of one of hers. At some point, near a sappy point (as LaSalle put it) Brody weaved her fingers into his and held his hand. She didn't speak and he didn't point it out. It was a nice moment, having his partner curled against him.

At the end, Brody was completely asleep. Her breathing had grown soft and even. And she didn't hear the LaSalle turn down the volume, as to not disturb her.

"I wish I had a Mr. Darcy," she said quietly in her sleep.

LaSalle smiled down at her and felt his heart tighten as he watched her sleep, "Merri?"

"Hmm."

"You've got a Mr. Darcy."

She shifted a little in her sleep, making a soft sound. LaSalle brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and dipped his head. His lips brushed her cheek and he gave her hand a tender squeeze.

"I'm you're Mr. Darcy, Merri. You just don't know it yet."

The End