Chap. 1
Elizabeth placed her hand on the forehead in question. It was warm for sure. Neal had a fever. Calling for Peter to being the electronic thermometer, she tucked the blankets tighter around him and smoothed his hair back off of his forehead.
"Did you feel sick last night?"
"No. When I woke up this morning, my head was stuffy and my neck was achy, but I didn't feel bad last night."
Peter sat on the side of the bed with the tympanic thermometer and handed it to his wife, his hand automatically going to the top of Neal's head. He massaged his son's scalp as El used the ear thermometer to get a reading on his temperature.
Neal leaned into the massage and sighed. He really felt awful. Now his throat was starting to get raw. God, he hoped he wasn't catching the flu Jones had been down with for almost a week. He just wanted to sleep.
"Well, 103.4 isn't great, but it isn't terrible either. I'll get something to help with the fever and the headache. If the fever isn't any lower in a few hours, I'm calling the doctor."
Neal watched her leave and turned his head toward his dad. The comforting hand was still on head.
"I hate being sick. I hardly ever do get sick, but when I do it's usually bad, like life is getting revenge because I don't get sick enough."
"I would hazard a guess that you are coming down with the flu Jones had last week. If that's the case, we should get you in to see the doctor as soon as we can. This will only get worse. We can't treat the flu, but we can treat the symptoms, maybe make the duration shorter and lessen the impact."
"Ungh, Peter don't say that word!"
"What word?"
"Doctor. It's a bad word."
Peter almost laughed at how childlike Neal sounded. It was rather endearing to see the boy like that.
"When your mom gets back I'll go make some tea and see what kind of soup we have. I know, I know, you're not hungry, but you still need to keep your strength up so your immune system can fight this."
Elizabeth grabbed the ibuprofen and a bottle of water. Neal would need all the fluids he could get. Now though, she needed to get his fever down.
"Ok, the ibuprofen should help with the fever. I'll recheck it in an hour or so, after the pills have had time to start working."
Neal popped the coated tablets into his mouth and swallowed, thankful that Peter and El both preferred the coated variety. The coating made the small pills easier to swallow with his sore throat.
"Now that you're here I'm going to go make some tea and see what soups we have."
"I made some vegetable soup yesterday and there is some chicken noodle in the freezer. I think there is butternut squash soup in there as well. Then we have Italian Wedding soup in the pantry. So, what's it to be?"
"What's in the chicken noodle?"
"Chicken, noodles, carrots, onions, a little garlic, chicken stock, basil, a little sea salt, some pepper, and some finely chopped spinach."
"Sounds good to me."
Peter nodded and made his way down the stairs to get the tea and the soup. He would need to call Hughes and have Diana bring him the files from the Hensen case. He could work from home using his laptop and cell phone
After he took the tablets, Neal snuggled down into the covers, seeking out the warmth they possessed. The pillow somehow molded to his head. It felt wonderful. He would let it support his head for a while; he was too tired to do so.
"Rest, baby. I'll be here."
Elizabeth heard her husband coming up the stairs just as Neal started to stir again. Once she caught sight of those fever bright eyes, she knew the tablets were still making their way into his system.
"Peter is here with your soup."
As El helped him sit up, Peter smoothed out the blankets and positioned the tray on the bed in front of his flu weakened son. Watching Neal sip the mint tea, Peter marveled at how delicate the kid could look. Next Neal took some saltine crackers and crushed them into the steaming soup.
"Do I detect a hint of orange in this?"
El smiled, even sick Neal still had one of the most sensitive pallets she had ever encountered.
"I forgot about the orange zest I used. How does it work with the soup?"
"It's really good. It makes the other flavors kind of pop I guess."
Neal was able to finish the small bowl of soup and the tea before his eyes started to droop again. Yawning his pleasure as Peter slid into the bed beside him, Satchmo, and Angelo, Neal cuddled into the blankets and his dad and let sleep take over. He was warmer with his dad there. If he had to be sick, at least he had his parents there to care for him.