THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED A FAVOR

Chapter 2

I brushed one or two stray hairs off my suit and went to work. The lab was unusually quiet. There were ongoing cases, but nothing new. I surmised that the criminal element was suffering the flu epidemic too – well, good luck to them, I hoped it was bad! There was a message for me that Eric was off sick. That raised my eyebrows – he was even more of a 'tough it out' sort of guy than I was. He was probably a bit fitter too, not to mention younger. Calleigh didn't work Mondays anymore, so I had a depleted team of Ryan, Walter and Natalia, and some techs. Still, them plus me… We'd manage. And it was quiet – I went to the office to catch up on some admin, which I hated.

I put off getting stuck into it. I made a coffee and looked out of the window. I found myself wondering how Seb was getting on. To be truthful, I was half-expecting a call, either from Furry Friends, to say he was causing trouble, or from his mistress, to make sure he was okay. Although, the dog place had seemed very professional. They had told me they had facilities to separate him, if he needed 'time out'. They also had webcams. I resisted the urge to check up on him – I am not a dog-lover (or so I kept telling myself). Still, I thought I'd tell Cecile about the cameras, provided that Seb was behaving himself and hadn't been expelled.

I realised I was spending an abnormal amount of time thinking about a dog – it really felt like having responsibility for someone's child. I mentally kicked myself for being so soft, sat down and made myself get on with some work.

The day passed slowly. My concentration wasn't great and I was bored. I wandered through the labs, but everyone was busy, and I knew I was only interrupting. I went to find Frank, looking for entertainment – and a lunch companion – but he was out in the field. I went out to buy a sandwich and returned to work.

By late afternoon, I'd got a mild headache, and my throat felt scratchy. I refused to think of it as the onset of flu. More likely a reaction to sitting at a computer screen in an air-conditioned office all day. But I signed out early – for me – and went to see how Seb had fared. I visited a drugstore on the way, to stock up on Tylenol – just in case.

At Furry Friends, my tentative question, "Has he been good?" was met with a beaming smile.

"Perfect. He sure likes the ladies, doesn't he?"

"So I'm told. So no trouble?"

"No, although we did put him on his own for an hour after lunch – simply to give everyone a rest. I'll get him for you."

He seemed delighted to see me, though a little reluctant to leave his new-found friends. "You can see them tomorrow," I told him, trying to ignore an increasingly sore throat.

That dog was tired. Between humping bitches and sniffing butts – or whatever else terriers got up to – he'd worn himself out. I changed into sweats, ready to take him out. Just for a walk – I didn't feel up to a run – and was surprised and relieved when he didn't really want to go. I fed him and then he fell asleep, on his back, on the sofa. I sent a picture of him to Cecile, then thought he looked as if he'd died, lying there with his feet in the air, and quickly added a note explaining he was simply dog-tired.

I thought about my own dinner and realised I really didn't feel hungry. My head was throbbing and I felt shivery and a bit sick. Still in denial that it was flu, I swallowed a couple of pills and settled down beside Seb. Even if it was flu, I had to get on top of it. With Eric away, and Calleigh part-time, it was going to be a desperately short-staffed lab if I fell by the wayside…

At about nine, still without having eaten, I took Seb out for a quick visit to the beach opposite, then topped up my pharmaceutical level and went to bed.


I slept well, so I was profoundly disappointed to wake up feeling like the living dead. I sneezed about ten times, each sneeze sending a jab of pain through my head. Seb was fascinated. While I held my head and groped for a handkerchief, he danced up to me, his mouth lolling open, a silly grin on his face.

"Piss off, dog," I said – croaked. "Not in the mood."

He obviously hadn't learnt that command. He barked at me instead.

I repeated, "Piss off! Go away! Allez!" and pushed him off the bed. I lay back and groaned.

This was not good. My head hurt, my throat hurt, I felt sick, my arms and legs ached, and I was sticky with sweat. In fact, you name it, it hurt. No longer in denial, I had to admit to real, full-blooded flu. Which I had to beat…

I turned to my cure-all – fresh air. I got carefully to my feet, pulled on yesterday's sweats, put a leash on Seb, and went out. It was raining lightly – a sort of misty drizzle – but I thought it might actually be refreshing. We walked, as usual, over the rough ground to the beach, and down to the shoreline. Seb wanted to be released for a run, but I didn't dare. I was in no state either to call him, or chase after him.

I knew almost straight away that I wasn't going to feel better anytime soon. I felt distinctly unsteady. My vision wavered a bit. True, the rain cooled my hot skin, but that soon turned to shivering, so we didn't stay out long. I'd try more pills and a hot shower, and see how we went from there. I hated being ill! But I still reckoned I was tough enough to ignore it, if I had to. So what, things hurt, and I was developing a racking cough, but I could live with it… at least, I thought I could… I gave Seb his breakfast, the pungent smell of dog food doing nothing for my appetite. I left him eating, and walked into the bedroom, pulling my wet clothes off as I went. The bed, unmade and sweaty as it was, looked horribly inviting. I turned away and went into the bathroom.

I turned the shower on, and looked in the mirror. I didn't only feel like the living dead, I kind of looked that way too. White skin, red eyes… you get the picture. I reached for the Tylenol bottle, and fumbled with the child-proof cap.

The wave of nausea took me by surprise. I just about reached the toilet in time.

There's something rather unnerving about being watched by a dog, when you're chucking up. I caught sight of him, sitting in the doorway, head cocked, intent on what I was doing. I prayed silently, 'Don't come near me,' and tried to ignore him. I'm sure he would have shrugged if he could, but he turned and went out. I rested my head on the cold porcelain and closed my eyes.

Eventually, I got to my feet, turned off the shower, and staggered back to bed.

"I give in." I don't know whether I said it out loud. Once my head had stopped spinning, I reluctantly reached for my cell.

TBC