The Lion Sleeps; AKA Sick Day
By Pharoah'sCat.
Author's note: tried to publish this as Sick Day earlier…2nd time lucky? This takes place sometimes after Season 5's Open House.
He hated being sick. Well, really who didn't? A throbbing head and a chest that felt so tight it hurt when he coughed and hurt when he didn't was nothing to celebrate and often to be sneezed at. And he really hated missing work; yes his job was somehow both tedious and stressful; yet also filled with co-workers who he felt closer to than anyone outside his immediate family. And the characters who were dragged, wandered or stormed into his precinct on an almost daily basis provided a level of entertainment, annoyance, need, and just that slightest hint of danger that he had become addicted to almost from his first day on the job.
Still, there were upsides to being home sick as well. He always loved to just watch Liz around the apartment. Just going about the most mundane things in life. He would sit on the sofa and pretend to read a magazine while watching her flit about doing all those daily chores he usually missed. Occasionally he would offer to help, (and in fairness, he occasionally offered to help even when he was home not sick.), but she would usually just shoo him away. Still, it just gave him such a happy frisson of affection and attraction to watch his wife taking care of their home.
And the other big attraction? Sleep. Barney had always been blessed with the ability to drop into a deep sleep almost from the instant his head hit the pillow...or even the sofa in his office. Very handy for making it through double shifts and the late night/early morning interruptions of small children. Liz said it was like watching someone falling gently off a cliff as Barney floated down into slumber. Whatever dreams he had were fleeting and rarely disturbing. So as he lay in bed contemplating the pain level in his head and the current level of cough, he knew very well he could simply turn over and go back to sleep. But, experience had also taught him that if he truly slept the day away, it was never a good idea. No matter his state of physical health, he awoke from a too long sleep in a state of vague guilt and ennui.
With a cough and a sigh, he swung his legs out of bed, found his slippers, his warmest robe and after a quick trip to the bathroom, wandered out into the living room.
"Well, good almost noon to you, " said Liz with a smile from the kitchen. "How do you feel?"
"No worse; I am sure I can go back to work tomorrow."
"Hmmm...we'll see." Liz stepped forward to put his hand on his forehead. "No fever." The she laughed. "You should see your hair! You look like a Muppet" She made a valiant effort to push his always defiantly curly hair into some semblance of order.
"Hey," Barney mock protested, "don't get too close. You don't want catch this."
"Ah, you forget. I am the one who gave it to you.
"Oh, right. Very generous of you."
The teakettle whistled, and Liz went to make Barney a cup of tea with honey &lemon.
"Here", she said, handing him the steaming cup.
Barney stared dubiously at the tea. "You know this practically makes me gag. I can never figure out why. I like tea and I like honey and lemon. But put them together and just ...yuck!"
"Well, try and think of god and country and get it down. Are you hungry? I could make you something before I go."
"Go?"
"Tuesday and Thursday afternoons at the PS113. Tutoring the 1st and 2nd graders."
"Oh right...the original donors of this particular germ warfare. Do thank the little dears for me."
Liz stuck out her tongue at him as she shrugged into her jacket.
"Tsk, tsk; such bitterness. And the children all speak so highly of you. As a matter of fact, they would love you to come back and talk to them about the police again. They were practically enraptured the last time."
"Hah - they just love me for my gun."
"You didn't even bring you gun. "And," she teased, "Mrs. Sanderson loves too. "
Barney nearly did choke on the tea.
"Mrs. Sanderson is at least 70 and sports a mustache only slightly less noticeable than mine."
At Liz's raised an eyebrow he held up a hand in surrender.
"And, I am sure she is a wonderful teacher and a very nice person."
"Nice save."
She kissed him and gave his hair one final and unsuccessful push into place.
"There are plenty of cold cuts in the fridge. Oh, and some really nice tangerines. High in Vitamin C, you know. I'll be back around 4. "
"Try not to inhale!" Barney called after her.
With a sigh, Barney went into the kitchen, dumped the tea in the sink, remembered to wash out the cup, and stared contemplatively into the fridge, finally emerging with a tangerine.
He went into the living room, put his feet up and began to peel the tangerine. Liz was right. Even with his diminished taste buds, it was delicious. He picked up the tv remote, (a device he still found astonishing.) and quickly clicked his way though the afternoon fare of soap operas. He stopped when he got to a nature documentary about lions on the Serengeti on the local educational channel. It was actually really interesting. Amazing pictures. Then they got to the part about how the males often devoured their own young, especially the sons, or how sometimes the young males grow up to be strong enough to dethrone and even kill their own father. At this point his mind drifted away from the plains of Africa and onto his own relationship with his son David.
Where has that sweet, if somewhat gun obsessed, child gone, he wondered? OK, sure, David was a teenager. And experience with Rachel through the teen years had prepared him for the mumbling responses, the opaque expression, the whole panoply of "where did you go/out; what did you do/nothing" that marked teen angst. Or, so he had thought. But David's current state seemed to go well beyond the normal teenage rebellion and recalcitrance. There was a layer of anger; almost of suppressed fury in David that both baffled and alarmed him. At least toward him. Toward his mother, David's attitude seemed more in line with normal teen behavior; sullen at times but also willing to share a smile and a quick hug. Even a laugh! To him though...nothing. And nothing with an angry edge to it.
He clicked the tv off. He knew...and he knew Liz agreed...that David's anger had come to a full boil during their separation. Sure, that made sense. It had been a difficult time for them all. And it must have been especially hard on the kids, trapped in a limbo between their two parents. Most of Rachel's ire had been directed toward Liz. She snipped and sniped relentlessly at her mother. Toward him, she showed frustration, but also a level of mature understanding that had surprised him at the time. She had called him regularly at the hotel were he had hunkered down for the duration. And even cajoled him out to a couple of dinners. She had never pried or prodded; simply provided a sympathetic presence.
David, on the other had, had focused all his love and support on his mother and all of his considerable anger at this father. He had rarely seen David during the separation...despite Liz's best efforts to arrange it. And when he did, the boy did little to contain his anger and disappointment.
It was all very Freudian. But the thing was, after he and Liz got back together, after they had well and truly re-established their relationship, Rachel had come back into the family fold almost immediately. She was quick to let go of whatever resentment she had felt toward her mother. Whereas it seemed that David only dug in his anger spurs ever deeper.
Of course, Barney thought, as he scooped up the citrus peels and headed for the kitchen wastebasket, it was true that Rachel was enough older than David to make a real difference. She was 18 after all when the split happened. David, barely 13; heading full steam into always choppy seas of adolescence just as his parental world was coming apart at the seams. That must have been especially rough. He didn't blame the boy for being angry. And he knew that at least some of that anger covered up fear. He had seen enough of that syndrome at work to fail to recognize it. Even in his own son. But that knowledge gave him no comfort. Because he could not for the life of him figure out how to simply get David to talk to him. He had tried and tried to no avail. David's defenses were up so high it was like trying to talk to a porcupine. He and Liz had talked quietly about counseling. After all, it had helped them sew their marriage back together. But he was dubious they could get David to go.
Feh, he thought to himself. This isn't getting anywhere. Back to bed..and sleep.. for me. He really didn't think he had the energy to face his son when he got back from school. Oddly, at the moment, this 'instant sleep' ability was one thing he and his son did have in common. As he pulled the covers back up, he acknowledged what some...including Liz...had pointed out to him; that sleep for him could and sometimes was used as a form of escape. Well, so be it, he thought. It beats booze and drugs and several other forms of escape he could think of.
Which is pretty much the last thing he thought as he tumbled down into sleep.
NY Times tucked under his arm, Barney pushed open the door to the squad room. But his usual, "good morning, gentlemen" died on his lips. In his absence, the room had been utterly transformed; its sickly gray green walls, covered by years of undisturbed grime, now glowed in nearly neon shades of green, red and blue.
"My God, what happened?!"
As ever, Levitt was front and center with an answer.
"New departmental policy, sir. To improve moral."
"Are you kidding?! It is revolting; and possibly blinding."
"Wait til you see your office," said Harris. "You're gonna love it."
Alarmed Barney bolted for his office and flung open the door. He was greeted with a wave of tangerine dream orange.
"This is crazy!" he protested.
Just then the squad door was flung violently open as Wojo pushed a hooded prisoner in. The prisoner tried to struggle from Wojo's grasp, but was considerably handicapped by the cuffs that bound his wrists behind his back. "Cut that out, you punk! Just take it easy." The prisoner appeared to relax just a fraction and Wojo carefully removed the cuffs.
"Who's this?" Barney inquired as he walked over to the two.
"Ah, just some jerk kid. Tried to rob a liquor store on 14th. Threw the gun away as I was chasing him.
"What's your name, kid?" Barney asked the young man, who has been staring resolutely at the floor the whole time.
Finally he raised his face. "Miller, David Miller."
Barney looked into his son's face in horror. But no words would come out.
"C'mon punk..into the cage."
"Wojo!" Barney finally blurted out, "This is David. MY David!"
Wojo shrugged. "Can't make any exceptions Barn."
He opened the door of the holding cell and was pushing David in, when Barney realized there was an adult male lion pacing the cell.
"No"! Barney screamed.
Barney sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air. He was shaken and shaking; dripping with sweat. Slowly, only very slowly, his heart beat began to slow and his breathing return to something close to normal. Carefully, he looked around his familiar bedroom ,as if to assure himself that no wild colors or large felines lurked.
He got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. First he splashed cold water on his face and then he turned the shower on full blast, peeled off his pajamas and got in. He turned the temperature up as high as he could stand it, and let the steaming water pound down over him. He stepped out, dried off and shaved. He put on a set of NYPD sweats sat down at the dining room table; facing the door. He sat down to wait. For David to arrive home from school.