Another one-shot, had this in my head all day...hope you like it!
On a scale of one to ten, Jane's patience was hovering around minus six, and was showing no sign of improvement. Her computer was having as bad a day as she was- slow to load, and phasing in and out-well, she knew exactly how it felt. As she waited for the damn thing to reboot- again- she leaned back in her chair and plonked her feet up on her desk- it was fair to say she was in a bad mood and feeling sorry for herself.
She was coming down with a cold, well, more of a sniffle really, but Jane 'we never give in to fear' Rizzoli was dangerously close to giving in to a head cold. Unaccustomed to being sick, she'd tried to fight it when the first germ snuck in under her radar and took up residence last night- but it was a half-assed attempt, and only lasted for about half an hour before she admitted defeat and went to bed.
The decorated detective- a hero to the many citizens of Boston, a woman who could fend off a serial killer with nothing more than a blunt pencil and a stick of gum, a woman who has been shot, stabbed and kidnapped (twice, once not being enough apparently) a woman whose name and badass notoriety were so ingrained into the folk lore of her grateful city that she was now believed to have superpowers and wear her underwear on the outside- that woman had been floored-by a hinky little head cold.
Wonder Woman was sick and Hong Kong Phooey could take over for all she cared.
In fairness, Jane was rarely ever sick- she could go from 'healthy' to 'maimed' in ten seconds flat- but plain old sick wasn't something she was able to control, and control was tattooed on the inside of her eyelids. Jane was experiencing what mortals considered an inconvenience- for our hero it was on a par with Kryptonite.
The 'major symptoms' were actually just a slight headache and a tickly nose, but the reason for being more irritable than usual was the sneezing- random, irritating sneezing. The sneezes came from nowhere and annoyed the crap out of her, and she'd had enough. She needed sympathy, and as so far none was forthcoming from her long-suffering colleagues (Frost and Korsak had ducked out on a secret mission for donuts and some peace from her whining) she decided the morgue would be an apt place to find some- she felt like death anyway.
"Atchoo!" Sighing, she grabbed yet another tissue. "Atchooo!…oh for the love of god" she groaned, and made her way to the elevator. Maura will be sympathetic; Maura will understand, she thought to herself, Maura always understands. Her flirty best friend was someone whom Jane could rely on, even in her darkest hour.
By the time she'd bravely made the arduous journey from upstairs to downstairs, a sneeze was building, to a crescendo. "Atchoo….atchoo…A –A- A- ATCHOOOO!…" If Maura was the delicate timpani, then Jane was the brass section of the Boston Pops- blowing her nose was reminiscent of the trombone tuning up. "Oh for Pete's sake, will this never end?…ugh…Maura, you here?" Jane trudged in to the autopsy suite to find Maura stitching a Y-incision back together. Jane surveyed the body, and after some deliberation declared to the M E,
" He looks better than I feel….Maur…I'm sick, I think I have a fever…I think I might actually be dying…Maura! I'm sick!" Jane then gave such a pout that she could easily trip over her bottom lip if she walked off too quickly.
Maura just gave Jane a knowing smile and sighed. While having some degree of sympathy for her friend, she was also well aware that Jane tended to exaggerate on the rare occasions that she was unwell. But the doctor's unfaltering level of honesty, coupled with an internal filter that went out of whack where Jane was concerned and a poor nights sleep, meant her words could, perhaps have been better chosen.
"For goodness sake Jane you have a head cold, not the Ebola virus! You're not dying, you're mildly unwell, something that will no doubt pass within the next forty eight hours, and something that this poor man," she pointed to the cadaver between them, "would've been very grateful for if he wasn't already dead." Jane was taken aback by her best friend's diatribe and sensed, correctly, that she hadn't quite finished. She also realised that this is exactly why she should never treat live people- her bedside manner was terrible.
" Go into my office, and in my purse you'll find some aspirin. Take two now, and then again in four hours. Drink plenty of fluids, especially orange and kiwi juice, they're full of vitamin C and zinc."
She continued sewing, apparently oblivious to the look on Jane's face- that of a puppy who's been picked up by it's scruff and put outside after it's peed on the floor. Jane made to go and get the aspirin and not 'be a bother' anymore when Maura continued with her well meant but ultimately, unwelcome medical advice.
."In the unlikely event that you take a turn for the worse- and the world's media will be holding it's breath in case you do…then call 911… but if you do manage to make it through the night….then call me... and I'll bring you breakfast in bed. Now, how does that sound?" She smiled at Jane with more than a hint of smugness, and a devilish twinkle in her eyes. Jane looked at Maura in admiration of a job well done- she'd played the detective, and had almost gotten away with it.
"Well I must be sick Maura, you nearly had me there…nicely done Doctor! And, yes, you've made your point…maybe I am an ass when I'm sick…sorry Maur…can I get those Aspirin now?" Maura led Jane to her office and found the painkillers and when she'd taken them she had a question for her friend.
" Can I still get breakfast in bed? You have to feed a cold don't you?" The twinkle was in her eyes now, but it was short-lived as she let out an enormous "ATCHOO!" followed by another equally as big. Maura smiled that devilish smile straight at Jane as she replied "Ooh, Detective…once a wish, twice a kiss…such a shame you have Ebola…"
Hope you liked it...please review if you feel so inclined.