A/N: So, this was my first attempt at filling in for the PWKM. I realize this doesn't really make me anonymous anymore, buuutt…oh well…
Original prompt: "I want Gumshoe (or Godot) to fall ill at work. The kind of ill where all he can do is curl up on the floor and hope he stops feeling horrible. Bonus points if no-one finds him and he eventually manages to get up and tries to carry on with his work."
Fortunately for me, the OP was ok with Gumshoe (I CAN'T WRITE GODOT).
It's a little short, but...eehn...
…
Detective Dick Gumshoe felt like hell.
The usually good-natured man had been ill since he had woken up that morning and had promptly emptied his stomach of the meager contents it held from his dinner the night before. Gumshoe had briefly considered calling in sick to work that day, but then he remembered that his job didn't offer much in the way of "sick days", and he would have had to take the day off without pay. He just couldn't afford that; Dick needed every penny he could scrape together.
So, it was with a heavy heart and a tempermental stomach that Gumshoe reported to work that day, the same as he always did. He didn't like people to worry about him and tried to hide his illness behind his ever-present smile. It appeared to work; nobody inquired as to whether something was the matter. Gumshoe managed to carry out an investigation alongside Miles Edgeworth, though he was so focused on not throwing up that he missed a few vital pieces of information at the crime scene. Edgeworth chastised him as he usually did, but Gumshoe was too sick to care. He nodded absently and tried to placate his boss with a few mumbled apologies, promises that he would be more careful, and pleas to leave his poor paycheck alone. Edgeworth noticed with a raised eyebrow that the detective was not as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as usual, but then the decisive piece of evidence he had been searching for revealed itself and he quickly forgot about Gumshoe's plight.
"Detective Gumshoe," Edgeworth said, turning to the other man, "I need you to find the evidence that is shown in this photograph." He handed Gumshoe the photograph that had been found in the victim's jacket pocket. The photo showed a few tagged pieces of evidence from previous cases; Gumshoe knew that he could find them in the evidence room with relatively little difficulty. But he was afraid to open his mouth for fear of vomitting, so he simply nodded and tucked the picture into his own pocket. "I believe a second look at these items will shed a new light on this case," Edgeworth continued, oblivious to Gumshoe's shaking limbs.
"Y-yes, sir," Gumshoe finally spoke, praying that his stomach would stop flip-flopping until he was away from Edgeworth. "I'll f-find them and bring them to you right away, sir..."
"Good," Edgeworth nodded. "Don't keep me waiting, Detective."
Gumshoe nodded and hustled away from the crime scene - to the casual passerby, it would appear that he was eager to please his boss and retrieve the evidence as soon as possible. But the real reason for Gumshoe's speed was to put some distance between himself and Edgeworth before he could take it no longer and doubled over, vomitting.
…
Gumshoe carefully closed the door behind him, bathing the evidence room in darkness. He hadn't turned on the light yet, and wasn't sure if he planned to anytime soon. He rubbed his throbbing temples, gritting his teeth against another wave of nausea. Gumshoe held his breath for a moment, hoping desperately that whatever was left in his stomach would stay where it was, at least until he could finish collecting the items.
...on second thought, he hoped it would hold off until after he had delivered the evidence to Edgeworth. He imagined that Mr. Edgeworth wouldn't be too happy with him if he barfed all over key evidence.
Gumshoe allowed himself a small sigh of relief when the nausea passed over him, and he pressed his back flat against the door to support his quaking body. The cool metal of the door felt wonderful against his hot, sweaty, and feverish skin. He tilted his head slightly to press a flaming cheek against the chilly door, breathing slowly to calm his volatile stomach.
It took a few minutes for Gumshoe to realize that his legs had completely given out on him, and he had sunk to the floor. Gumshoe began to mentally chastise himself about slacking on the job, but the wonderful feeling of resting squelched any scolding he could come up with. When the coolness of the door no longer soothed him, he tilted his head the other way to cool down his right cheek. He wondered foolishly if this was helping to lower the fever he was sure he had.
Another abrupt flash of nausea hit Gumshoe full force. He grimaced in pain, tensing his entire body as if to hold off the bile he could feel creeping up his throat. Gumshoe wrapped his quivering arms around his middle, hoping that the pressure of his arms would soothe his stomach. He bit back a groan when the feeling refused to subside and made one last-ditch effort to quell the pain. Carefully, he lowered himself to the cool concrete of the floor and curled his knees up, forming himself into a little ball. He shuffled a bit away from the door and nestled himself into the corner of the room. The concrete's lower temperature sent comforting waves through Gumshoe's aching body, helping to calm his churning stomach. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the cold ebb gently through him. It could have been a few minutes or a few hours that he laid there, starting to relax as his body temperature lowered slightly.
His body still quivered, his heart still raced, and his stomach still whirled about like a high-powered blender. But Gumshoe knew that eventually he would have to get up and continue with his work. Gumshoe took a slow, deep breath to prepare himself for the exertion of rising up. He gingerly uncurled his knees and rolled himself over before bracing his arms against the floor and pushing to get up to his knees. A pause for breath, and then Gumshoe forced himself to his feet.
He stood for a minute to recover his bearings, but eventually he felt well enough to take a step towards the light switch. Unfortunately, that step made his whole body lurch, and Gumshoe ended up pitching his body towards the door once again. He panted breathily and pressed his forehead to the metal and grimaced, feeling his clenched jaw quiver as he tried to hold back the contents of his stomach.
Come on, pal, Gumshoe told himself. Don't give up. Mr. Edgeworth needs this evidence - it's your chance to prove your worth, pal!
Gumshoe smiled to himself before finally gathering the strength to stand up a bit straighter and step towards the light switch once again.
...
ABRUPT ENDING IS ABRUPT.