A/N: Good evening! Or good morning depending where you live! Or maybe afternoon? Whatever, thanks heaps to everyone for reading these stories! You're support is awesome! Please review if you're enjoying them so far!
Disclaimer: As of right now, I do not own the Mentalist, though hopefully that will change in the near future... Not likely though...
Word - 'health' Word Count - 491
Van Pelt lay on her couch, throat burning, head throbbing. She'd been about to leave for work when a wave of nausea had rushed over her, and she'd been forced to stop and rest.
Her health had been steadily deteriorating during the past week and a half, starting out as just a slight cough, but gradually becoming more and more serious. Just yesterday she had begun to feel a bit better, but overnight it had become considerably worse.
But despite feeling terrible she'd still trudged into work day after day, ignoring Rigsby's pleas for her to stay home and sleep.
She was currently regretting that decision. Maybe if she'd taken a break it would have cleared up by now.
After a couple of minutes the nausea passed, and though she still felt dreadful, she hoisted herself up and headed to work.
When Van Pelt walked into the bull pen, Cho was the only one present, reading through notes, his face hidden behind a brown manila folder.
He heard footsteps, and lowered the folder, peering over the top. On seeing Van Pelt, he dropped the folder onto the desk and moved over to her.
"Are you okay?" he asked, clearly concerned.
He was right to be worried. Her face was incredibly pale, with not even the slightest tinge of colour in her cheeks. She seemed unsteady on her feet, as though it was an effort just to stay upright.
"I'm fine," she croaked almost inaudibly.
Her head had begun to spin suddenly, and she sat down quickly to prevent herself from toppling over.
"I'll get you some water," Cho offered, leaving quickly before she had the chance to decline.
Seconds later he returned, a clear plastic cup filled with water in his hand and Lisbon at his side.
"Van Pelt," Lisbon gasped as she saw just how sick her fellow agent looked. "You need to go home, you look terrible."
Van Pelt took the cup from Cho gratefully, taking a sip and feeling immediate relief. Her throat still ached, but at least it wasn't burning.
"Come on, let me drive you home," Lisbon proposed, and Van Pelt was so exhausted she didn't even bother politely rejecting the offer.
Lisbon helped her to her feet slowly, then they walked together to her car, Van Pelt supporting herself by resting a hand on Lisbon's shoulder.
They drove in silence, Van Pelt resting her heavy head against the window. The cool glass felt refreshing, and she nearly drifted off as it reduced her head's constant throbbing.
When the car came to a halt outside her house, she was jolted awake by the sudden stillness. Lisbon helped her inside and over to the couch she'd rested on barely an hour before.
"Now sleep, that's an order," Lisbon told her with a sympathetic smile.
Van Pelt gratefully obeyed, snuggling into the cushions with a blanket covering her tired body.
Within seconds she was fast asleep.
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