TITLE: Breaking
GENRE: General - Angst/Hurt Comfort
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Minor for Reveille
DISCLAIMER: The likelihood of me owning them is about as high as Gibbs being named permanent Director of NCIS.
SUMMARY: Her fever wasn't breaking. For the LiveJournal Flashfic Sickness and Health Challenge
The woman's head turned restlessly on the pillow, as though trying to get away from the heat surrounding her head and body. Her husband sat on the bed beside her, murmuring soft words of comfort. With one hand he dipped the cold cloth into the bowl of water next to him, then carefully wrung it out and slowly wiped it across her arms. Within seconds the cloth was warm from her skin and he dipped it back into the bowl again, before wringing it out and this time gently mopping her face and neck. Throughout his ministrations, her eyes remained closed, and unaware of his touch.
The Doctor watched this scene from the foot of the bed without speaking. This was the third night he'd come and seen this exact same moment. He knew that one way or the other, he wouldn't be seeing it for much longer.
The Doctor stepped forward and put a gentle hand on the husband's shoulder. "How is she?"
The man looked up at him with an anguished expression. "There's still no change."
The Doctor gave him a sympathetic look before putting a hand on the woman's brow as she moaned beneath his touch. There was no change – her skin remained as hot as the last time he'd checked, with no sign of sweat to indicate the fever was breaking. Just to be sure, he put the thermometer in her mouth, using his other hand to gently hold the back of neck to try and keep her head from moving. After a moment, he withdrew the thermometer, wincing silently at the confirmation.
"She's not going to make it, is she?" The husband had seen the expression the Doctor had tried to hide. The Doctor smiled reassuringly and put his hand on the husband's shoulder again.
"She's still alive," he said, his voice quiet but with conviction. "As long as she's alive, you must have hope." He looked back at the woman, who was turning her head restlessly again. Through the window, the night sky had clouded over, hiding the light of the stars. "I'll come back again in an hour."
The husband nodded mutely, then reached for the cloth again.
0
When he returned the clouds had grown thicker, and the husband's ministrations were growing slower. The Doctor could see the way the man sighed, trying to hide his obvious fatigue. Quickly the Doctor stepped forward again.
"Get some rest," he said softly, nodding his head to the cot positioned a few feet away from the bed. "I'll take care of her." The husband looked hesitant. "I won't leave. You have my word."
The husband reluctantly nodded and pressed the cloth into the Doctor's hand. Without hesitation the Doctor put the cloth into the bowl, letting the cool water soak in. After a second he wrung it out, then gently wiped it across the woman's brow.
0
He wasn't sure how long he remained there, sitting at the woman's bedside, repeating the motions of dipping the cloth, wringing it out, and gently bathing the woman's face and arms as she continued moving her head restlessly. Occasionally she'd moan, caught up in the throes of a fevered nightmare, and he'd use his other hand to gently squeeze her shoulder. The woman's husband always flinched at the sound, usually bringing his head up in fear from the pillow. The Doctor could see the mixture of emotions on the man's face every time – the worry, but also the relief that he was hearing something, and not an awful, deathly silence.
The day was beginning to break when the Doctor saw that the woman was no longer moving her head quite as much on the pillow. Carefully he pulled the cloth away and set it into the bowl, before watching his patient's face. A beam from the early sun flashed across her cheeks, revealing a drop of moisture. Moisture that had not come from the carefully wrung cloth.
The Doctor reached forward and put a hand on the woman's forehead, then nodded in satisfaction and put his hand on the husband's shoulder. He jolted awake.
"What..." His voice broke off at the smile on the Doctor's face.
"Her fever's breaking."
The husband stared in shock before looking quickly over at his wife. She was resting peacefully now, her breaths slow and even. "You're sure?"
The Doctor already had a thermometer in the woman's mouth. After a moment, he withdrew it, still smiling. Tears came into the husband's eyes.
"Dr. Haswari..."
There was a soft moan from the bed and both men turned in that direction. Quickly the husband stepped towards her.
"Sweetheart?"
The woman's eyes flickered, then opened, focusing on the man now holding her hand. The Doctor nodded in satisfied relief before quietly walking away.
THE END