A nice, warm shower. Maybe a steaming cup of tea. Perhaps a good book to read while she lay in bed and relaxed.

Instead, she found herself tangled under layer upon layer of sheets and various other blankets, toped by a huge quilt. She still wasn't warm enough. But she was too busy trying to fall asleep to care. When she did sleep, it was short lived and not restful in the least.

Finally, she managed to get into a somewhat comfortable position and drift into a light slumber. She should have known it wouldn't last.

"Hughes, are you sure this is a good idea?"

Just because Roy had a key to her apartment didn't mean he should simply waltz into her house unannounced while she was sick.

"Yeah, Roy! You need to check on your dear Lieutenant." Hughes murmured whimsically.

Roy shot him a sharp glare an unlocked her door.

Inside, her apartment was the strangest combination of disarray and cleanliness he had ever seen. The sight even made Hughes do a double-take. There were books and folders stacked everywhere they looked. The book shelves were overflowing. There were no pictures hung on the wall, and not a knick-knack to be seen. Everything was dusted, the floors were clean. It was… Odd, to say the least. He easily spotted the glimmer of a pistol on her side-table by the couch.

He chuckled. "Only Hawkeye would read accompanied by a gun."

Hughes was too caught up trying to find which room may have been her bedroom to notice. He slowly opened each door and peered in. He spotted a closed down and inched it open. He heard the blankets rustle and closed it. "Found it." He motioned for Roy to come over.

Roy frowned and crept over. "What am I supposed to do?" He whispered. "Jump onto her bed and shout 'Hey there, Lieutenant! Hope you're feeling better! Don't mind the fact that I'm sneaking around your apartment while you sleep!' ?"

Hughes grinned. "Yeah, then flash one of those smiles. She'd forgive you after that."

Roy growled. He straitened and hid behind a wall when she whimpered in her sleep and rolled over.

"See, she's still sick. We should leave now." Before he could protest, Hughes grabbed his wrist and swung him through the door. Roy stared at him, dumb-founded. "Hughes, what the hell ar-" Hughes covered his mouth when she whimpered again.

"Just go feel her forehead. See if she has a fever." Hughes stepped into the room and pushed him towards her bed.

Roy turned towards her apprehensively and moved to her bedside. As he gazed down at her, he couldn't help but notice how peaceful she looked. Peaceful in the sense that her face was flushed and her eyelids twitched as she dreamed miserably. A low mumble or groan would escape her lips every once a while she slept.

Roy glanced up at Hughes after a moment and Hughes pointed at her sternly. Roy glared at him furiously before bending down gently and resting his hand on her blazing forehead.

In what felt like half a second, her eyes shot open. It took her a few moments, but it finally registered what was going on. She instantly paled.

"Sir?!"

He jumped back, stumbling over a stack of books and scattering them as he fell with a loud thud. He lay, dazed and embarrassed, before he jumped to his feet and looked at her sheepishly. "H-Hi, Lieutenant. Feeling any better?"

She simply stared at him in shock and horror. "No, I'm not. Why are you here?" She sounded almost insulted, and outraged he had invaded her personal space like this.

He sighed. "Long story. Hughes told me I should ch- Hey, where the hell'd that bastard go!?" He ran to her door and looked out. He clenched a fist when he heard her front door slam shut.

"Damn him." He growled through her teeth and turned to her.

"Maybe I should go, Lieutenant. Hope you feel better soon!" He turned and reached for her door knob when she spoke behind him.

"You know, Sir…" The sound of her climbing out of bed made him look over his shoulder. "Could I ask for a favor?" She looked at him hesitantly and wrapped herself in a robe.

"Sure, what do you need?" Anything to take her mind off him sneaking around her house. Making her feel better would be a bonus too.

"A cup of tea would be splendid." She broke out into a coughing fit and slid down onto the edge of her bed. He looked at her sympathetically and nodded.

"Sure, where is it?"

She settled her cough and inhaled deeply. "Second cupboard on the left, right above the stove."

He smiled, nodded, and walked out. It wasn't often that she asked him for favors, so he was more then happy to oblige. He boiled some water, and while he waited he looked around, scanning each of her bookshelves. Many of them were books on how to maintain a gun. Some looked like romances. Some where old, worn books that had probably come from her parents. Then there were several mysteries.

He returned to the kitchen and finished making the tea, even managing to find some honey and mix it in. He carried it down the hall to her bedroom, quite satisfied with himself. He found her flopped down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She lifted her head when he entered but didn't move. She smiled weakly, sneezed, then sighed and let her head fall back to the bed.

"Thank you, Sir." She muttered.

She sounded so miserable. He was almost happy he had come, maybe he had cheered her up a bit. Then again, she had looked pretty upset earlier… He sighed and placed the cup on her bedside table. He leaned up against the wall and glanced around. The room was dimly lit, and all he could really see was her pale face against the sheets, but he didn't feel like disturbing her with the light on. She groaned after a few minutes and pushed herself up. In the proper lighting, he could see that she looked far worse then she sounded. There were huge, dark bags under her bloodshot eyes, and her lips were bright red.

She gripped the mug with shaky hands and took a sip. She let out a contented sigh and took another slow sip. "Mmm… That's good, Sir." She smiled.

"Your taste spuds are off." He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes and lay down on her back, releasing a frustrated sigh. "I hate being sick. It makes me feel so vulnerable. It makes you vulnerable, too."

He frowned. "How does it make me vulnerable?"

"With all due respect, Sir, you can't last very long without me to back you up. You're far to rash."

He couldn't argue with her. Instead, he settled for leaning back and watching her shift and cover herself with her covers. It had just occurred to him that she had been shivering violently the whole time he had been there. Her face was twisted with the effort of staying warm. In an attempt, she pulled the blankets over her head. She pulled them back down, feeling suffocated underneath.

"What's the temperature?" She sounded gruff.

"When I left the office, it was 64. Considering the fact that the sun has begun to set, now it's probably closer to 61."

She shivered and pulled the blankets up to her chin while squeezing her eyes shut as another bought of coughing ravaged her throat.

His heart went out to her as he watched her struggle to calm her breathing.

She sneezed once more. He couldn't take watching her suffer any longer.

Without thinking, he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the side of her bed. By the time what was happening registered to her, he was already laying by her side with his arms around her waist. She leaned away, but soon found herself pressing against him, curling up against his body. He was so warm, she couldn't help it.

She buried her face in his shoulder hesitantly and closed her eyes. "Sir, you know this is wrong." She mumbled into his shirt.

"But you aren't complaining." He whispered teasingly.

She sighed and draped an arm over his chest. He smiled. There was no way she would have giving in this easily if she wasn't so sick. She may have been half-conscious, but he was still content. When her breathing slowed to a steady, deep rhythm, he knew she had managed to fall asleep. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and closed his eyes and, his arms still holding her body to his, he drifted to sleep.