THIRTEEN
Lydia felt like she was on fire. She was shaking, her entire body trembling uncontrollably. She was sitting on the edge of her bathtub, and she whimpered before she was sick yet again. She'd been throwing up nearly all night long, sweating profusely, huddled in the bathroom. She'd gotten sick after she'd woken up from an extremely vivid dream, and she'd been having hallucinations that terrified her ever since.
She'd watched as the bright pink walls of her bedroom morphed into millions of bright pink spiders that scurried around before popping like bubblegum bubbles.
She saw her mother's dead body floating in the bathtub, surrounded by weirdly vibrant purple daffodils that morphed into clownfish.
She'd seen her Grandpa Dan standing over her, holding a gun that was aimed at her chest. When he pulled the trigger, big Mylar balloons shot out instead of bullets. However, the balloons sounded like gunshots when they popped.
And after she'd watched Jude with full-on clown makeup take a flying leap out of her bedroom window, she swore that if she ever got through this, she'd never mess with drugs ever, ever again.
Around sunrise, there was a knock on her bedroom door. Clay stuck his head in, the way he always did, the way he had every morning as far back as Lydia could remember. And he always said the same thing.
"Little Scott, time to wake up."
She imagined him stepping in, seeing the empty bed. And sure enough, his voice was worried when she heard it again.
"Lydia?"
She gave out a weak moan from the bathroom, and Clay walked in, letting out a sigh when he saw her on her knees in front of the toilet.
"Oh, man. How long have you been in here?"
She shrugged her shoulders, starting to breathe hard again. Clay stepped over, laying a hand on her forehead.
"Christ, kid. You're soaked."
Lydia clenched her lips together as she clutched the toilet again, and Clay backed out of the room. Minutes later, as Lydia was breathing deep through her nose, desperately trying not to vomit, Quinn came rushing in. She knelt beside Lydia, letting out a long sigh.
"Have you been in here long?"
Lydia nodded, leaning back and over to rest her forehead on the cool bathtub. Quinn smiled up as Clay handed her a wet washcloth, and she set it across the back of Lydia's neck. Clay left the room, and Quinn gently rubbed Lydia's back.
"You are burning up, but you're sweating. I don't know if that's because you have fever and it's trying to break, or what. I'll call the doctor and see if we can't get you in to see him."
"No, Aunt Quinn, please."
Lydia turned to throw up again, and Quinn sighed.
"Honey, you're sick."
"It's just a virus. Let it run its course."
She moaned as she put her elbow up, resting her head on her hand. She couldn't go to the doctor. If she did, they'd do bloodwork on her and they'd find out what was truly making her sick, and she just couldn't let that happen. Quinn blew out her breath.
"I hate it when you guys get viruses."
She ran a hand over Lydia's hair, which she had pulled back in a ponytail and sighed.
"All right, fine. We'll let this run its course, but you have to stay hydrated. Drink something, anything, because I just can't deal with anyone in the hospital right now, okay?"
Lydia nodded, moving to rest her head on her arm. Quinn sighed again, rubbing Lydia's shoulders.
"I'm sorry you're sick, bud."
Lydia nodded again, and Quinn left the room, presumably to get Riley up and ready for school. Lydia opened her eyes as she leaned back against the tub, letting out a breath of relief when everything seemed normal. Please, God, don't let there be any more hallucinations. That last one had almost done her in, because she hated clowns, and to see Jude like that … She shook her head, reaching back to take hold of the washcloth and bring it to her lips. She wiped her mouth, standing gingerly on shaky legs to look in the mirror.
Death personified, that was Lydia Scott at the moment. Her hair was matted against her head, soaked with sweat. Her skin was that weird pale, almost gray. She set the washcloth aside and slowly, slowly brushed her teeth. She thought about taking a shower, but she was just so damn tired. She was still hot as hell, but she was starting to feel cold at the same time. She just decided she'd change her sheets later, slipping off her sleep shorts and her shirt, climbing into bed in just her underwear. She shivered, teeth chattering as she pulled the covers up to her chin, and her last thought as she closed her eyes was a silent prayer for no nightmares, no hallucinations, please God, no dreams at all.
Outside at lunch, Davis watched his brother instead of paying attention to Sawyer's latest story. He took a bite of his burger, chewing, swallowing, all without taking his eyes off of Jude. The guy was antsy, nervous almost, but baring his teeth like an animal to anyone who looked at him twice.
"Davis, are you even listening to me?"
Davis glanced over, seeing Sawyer's pursed lips, her blue eyes narrowing. He sighed, thankful he had his sunglasses on.
"No, babe. I'm sorry."
Sawyer blew her breath out in a huff as she sat back in her seat, crossing her arms.
"What the hell is so important you can't pay attention to me?"
Davis bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, then motioned at his brother. Sawyer turned and looked at him, then turned back to Davis.
"Why's he so pissy today?"
Davis shrugged his shoulders.
"I think it's 'cause Lydia's not here."
"She's sick."
"Yeah, I know. But they've got that weird co-dependent thing going on, and since she's not here to even him out, I'm fully expecting him to go all Norman Bates on someone with that plastic knife."
Sawyer laughed.
"Yeah, I started to sit by him in biology, but … I don't know, it felt like I was sitting beside a coiled-up rattlesnake, who was just waiting on his moment to pounce."
"Saw, rattlesnakes don't pounce."
"You know what I mean."
She leaned over and punched him in the arm, and Davis just smiled. He let out a sigh as he looked back at Jude, who was looking down at his phone, texting Lydia, Davis presumed.
"Maybe we should work on getting them some friends other than … you know, each other."
"They've got us, babe."
Sawyer leaned over, kissing Davis on the mouth, and he smiled.
"Yeah, and what more do you really need?"
They both laughed, finishing off their lunches, both trying to shake off the uneasy feelings as they stared at Jude.
After the longest fu—freaking day ever, Jude nearly ran out of school and to his car. He'd thought he'd heard Davis mumble something about finding his own ride home, but he'd pushed past him so quick he couldn't say. Meg had ballet after school today, so Brooke would be getting her. Jude called Quinn, who was working the day shift at the café, asking how Lydia was. Quinn said she hadn't heard from her for a while, and she was hoping she'd taken a nap. Jude offered to go and sit with her until Quinn got home, which of course, Quinn accepted. Jude raced to the Scott house, thanking whoever was listening for keeping the cops out of his hair this time. He let himself in, using the key on top of the lantern light that hung beside the door. He walked inside, taking the stairs three at a time, and gently knocked on the door at the end of the hall.
"Lyd?"
He pushed it open when he didn't hear anything, looking over at the bed and seeing the blankets down around Lydia's hips. She was hugging a pillow, and sunlight was dancing across her bare back. He swallowed, walking around to gently lay a hand on Lydia's forehead.
"Shit. Lyd, wake up. Hey."
She blinked her eyes open, looking up.
"Jude?"
"Hey, baby."
"Jude. What—what are you doing here?"
She hugged the pillow tighter to her chest and he smiled at her.
"I had the worst day ever, without you. I wanted to see you, make sure you were okay. How are you feeling?"
"Like crap."
She groaned, putting her face in the pillow. Jude sighed.
"Where's the thermometer?"
Lydia motioned with her head towards her bathroom, and Jude grabbed it, walking back and sticking it under Lydia's tongue. After a few minutes, it beeped, and he read it, blowing out a breath.
"Jesus, Lyd. 102."
She nodded. She was fairly sure that this wasn't solely due to the cocaine anymore. Naturally, she would actually contract a virus. At least she hadn't thrown up again. Jude ran a hand over his face.
"How about a bath? Like a cool bath, try to bring your temp down?"
She nodded, and he went to turn the water on. When he came back, she was sitting on the side of her bed, the pillow still in her arms.
"I … I'm not—"
"I know. I won't look. Promise."
She let out a sigh and Jude offered his hands. She took them, setting the pillow aside, and he smiled, staring into her eyes, not once looking away. She gave him a smile, and he helped her to the bathroom, turning his back while she sank into the water. She let out a long breath, and Jude leaned against the doorframe, his back to her.
"Is the water okay?"
"It's perfect. It feels so good."
He smiled, nodding.
"Lyd, I'm right here, okay? If you need anything, just yell."
"Okay."
Jude walked over to her bed, stripping the sheets and blankets off, tossing them out into the hall. He found some more sheets in the bottom drawer of her dresser, and put those on her bed. She had another blanket in her closet, and he draped that over the bed. He was putting the pillowcases on her pillows when he heard her call for him.
"Jude?"
He walked to the bathroom, poking his head in the door. She had her chin on the edge of the tub, her body under the water, and they smiled at each other.
"I'm ready to get out."
"Okay. Hang on just a sec."
He tossed the pillow on the bed, walking back to the bathroom and grabbing a towel. He unfolded it, holding it open for her, and she stood up. He looked up at the ceiling until she touched his shoulder, and he wrapped the towel around her. He lifted her up in his arms, and she put her forehead on his.
"You'll be all wet."
"I'll be all right."
Water dripped from her hair onto his shoulder, and he set her down in front of her dresser.
"I'm going to step to the hall while you get dressed. I'm right there, so just call me if you need me."
She nodded, and Jude kissed her forehead before he stepped into the hall. She pulled on her favorite long t-shirt, then went back to sit on her bed. Her head was spinning, her stomach rolling again.
"J—Jude?"
He was by her side in a flash, kneeling down in front of her.
"Hey. You okay?"
She shook her head, and he lifted a hand to touch her cheek.
"Well, you're not quite as hot as you were. Why don't you lay down and I'll go grab you something to drink?"
She nodded, and Jude moved to pull the covers back. She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and glazed, due to the fever.
"You changed my sheets?"
He gave her a smile as he helped her lay down.
"You're too good for me, Jude."
"Nah. I just love you. I'll be right back."
Jude walked downstairs, looking around and finding some Tylenol, and a big glass of ice water. He came back upstairs to find Lydia sound asleep, the covers up around her shoulders. He let out a sigh, laying the pills and the water on the table beside her bed. He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair, down over his face. He left her, going down to his car and getting his bag, and coming back up to sit on the floor beside her bed as he did his homework.
Meg came dancing into the kitchen, and Davis smiled at her as he set his pencil down. She looked at him, a grin crossing her face.
"Davis, watch."
She gracefully bent down, all the way to the floor, coming back up directly on her toes, spinning around before facing him again.
"Nice one, kid."
Meg smiled, turning to get a bottle of water out of the fridge. Davis looked towards the door, then back to his little sister.
"Hey, where's Mom?"
Meg walked over, hopping up on the stool beside him.
"Owen called her."
Davis made a face, and Meg sighed.
"Come on, Davis. He's not that bad."
He looked over at her, leaning back in his chair.
"What do you mean?"
Meg shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't know. He … He's nice. He doesn't treat me like I'm just a little kid. I know Mama and Daddy aren't going to get back together, so I thought the least we could do was give Owen a chance. And he makes Mama smile, so…"
Davis smiled, shaking his head. When did his eleven-year-old sister get to be smarter than him? He moved to squeeze the back of her neck, making her draw up and giggle.
"When did you get to be so smart?"
"I've always been smart."
He laughed, and Brooke walked inside.
"What's so funny?"
Davis squeezed Meg's neck again, and she let out a laugh.
"Mama, make him stop!"
Brooke smiled, as Meg swatted at Davis, still laughing.
"Davis, stop torturing your sister."
He held both of his hands up, in a show of surrender, as Meg let out a breath. She reached out and dug her fingers into his sides, and Davis yelped as he jumped up, as Meg fell out laughing.
"Not cool! Come here, you little—"
Meg took off running, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Brooke just laughed under her breath, as Davis rubbed his side.
"She's sneaky."
"And where in the world could she possibly have learned that from?"
Brooke raised an eyebrow at her son, who just smiled. There was no one, no one, who could be stealthier than Davis Baker. He could be downright lethal, scaring anyone who wasn't expecting it. Brooke used to shake her head at it when he was younger, how he could just appear out of nowhere, not making a sound at all. Brooke walked over, setting her purse on the counter.
"Okay, I have got a ton of … well, crap to do at the store. I haven't heard from Quinn, so I suppose all is well at the café?"
Davis shrugged his shoulders.
"I haven't heard either."
"We'll take that as a good sign. However, if she calls, would you do your mom a favor and run in for a little while?"
Davis gave a longsuffering sigh, but it was just for show.
"Yeah, I'll do it."
"In the meantime, can you keep an eye on your sister for me while I finish up at the store?"
Davis nodded.
"But what do I do with her if Quinn calls?"
"Bring her to me."
Davis nodded, but Brooke turned around, hands on her hips.
"Wait, where's your brother?"
Davis sighed.
"He took off as soon as the final bell rang. Sawyer gave me a lift home before she went to work at the café."
Brooke walked closer to him, placing her hands on the counter.
"Where did he go?"
"Give you three guesses, and the first two don't count."
Brooke sighed.
"He's with Lydia, isn't he?"
Davis nodded.
"She's got some kind of virus, Sawyer said."
"Which I'm sure he will catch and bring home to you and the kid with no immune system."
Davis nodded again, and Brooke sighed. Ever since Meg was a baby, if there was any hint of an illness around, she'd catch it. She'd had strep throat so many times the year she turned five that she was eventually hospitalized with an interesting case of strep throat and tonsillitis that nothing could cure until they took her tonsils out. She'd had chicken pox three different times. Colds, flus, pneumonia, viruses, Megan Baker had had them all. Brooke shook her head, turning to Davis.
"Call your brother and tell him I want to talk to him. Not in person, because Lord knows Megan would sense the germs and spike a fever. He's quarantined from this house until Lydia's better."
Davis nodded. Brooke gathered her purse and slid it on her arm, then walked to her son, kissing the top of his head.
"Take care of your sister."
Davis nodded, and Brooke was gone. Davis grabbed his cell phone, dialing his brother. Jude answered on the third ring, whispering into the phone.
"Davis, what do you want?"
"You're in deep shit, my friend. Ma's furious."
"Why? What did I do?"
"How sick is Lydia?"
"She's thrown up twice in the past hour."
"And how's your little sister doing?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen Meg toda … Oh, shit."
"Yeah. Make yourself comfy at the Scott house, because Mom has forbidden you to come here."
"God, you're such a drama queen."
"Eat me."
Davis heard the click signaling the end of the call and sighed. He walked up to Jude's bedroom, packing him a bag, muttering over and over again how Jude didn't deserve such an awesome brother.
Jude ran a hand over his face as he walked back to Lydia's bedroom. His mother had tried to make it seem like she was upset with him, but it was useless. She was glad he was taking care of Lydia, but until all was clear, he could not come home. He understood, of course, kind of felt bad about it. Then again, this was extra time he could spend with Lydia, so…
He walked back into her bedroom to find her sitting up, leaning back against the pillows.
"Hey, you're awake."
She gave him a smile, nodded.
"How are you feeling?"
"Not too bad."
Her voice was scratchy and hoarse. Jude nodded as he walked over to her, leaning to lay a hand against her forehead.
"Well, you're not so hot anymore. Still a bit warm, though."
She nodded.
"Yeah, I've still got the chills a little bit, too."
He nodded as she pulled the covers around her.
"Who was on the phone?"
Jude smiled.
"Davis. And then I had to call my mom."
"Everything okay?"
Jude smiled again as he reached up, brushing her hair back from her face.
"Well, yes and no. She hopes you feel better, says she loves you."
Lydia nodded, and Jude went on.
"And it looks like I'll be chilling here for a bit."
Her eyebrows drew together, and he smiled again.
"I … sort of came over here without thinking it through. You're sick, and even if I don't get it, Meg probably will."
"Oh, man. I completely forgot about that."
Lydia coughed, and Jude let out a sigh.
"Here. Let me check your temp again."
He went and got the thermometer, stuck it under her tongue while she sat huddled beneath the blankets. When the thermometer beeped, Jude checked it and sighed.
"Well, we're down to 100. If we could at least get you out of the triple digits, that would be good."
Lydia nodded, and Jude pointed to her water glass.
"Drink."
"I don't want it."
"I don't care. You've got to stay hydrated."
"I don't want to throw up anymore."
"You want to go to a hospital?"
Lydia made a face, and Jude smiled.
"That's what I thought. Drink."
Jude crossed his arms as she reached out and took hold of the glass.
"Little sips. Go slow."
Lydia nodded, doing what he asked. After a minute, she set the glass back down. Jude watched her.
"How you feeling?"
"Waterlogged."
He laughed, sitting beside her on the bed and running his hand through her hair.
"Feel sick?"
"Not yet."
"Maybe we'll make it through this time."
Lydia nodded and lay down, pulling the covers tight around her. Jude continued to stroke her hair. Lydia looked up at him.
"How do you feel about clowns?"
He smiled.
"They're all right. Why?"
"They creep me out. Big time."
"Because of IT?"
"Because of what?"
Jude laughed under his breath.
"IT. The Stephen King book and subsequent movie."
"I've never seen it."
"Don't watch it. I snuck it in when Davis and I were six, and we couldn't handle storm drains for years afterwards."
Lydia smiled.
"So you wouldn't, like, want to be a clown when you grow up?"
"Uh, no, honey. I've got bigger dreams than clown college."
"Like what?"
"Like actual college."
Lydia laughed again, trailing off into a cough. Jude sighed, continued to stroke her hair.
"Where's all the clown talk coming from?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"No reason. Weird fever dream."
Jude nodded, and Lydia closed her eyes. Okay, so it hadn't been a fever dream so much as a bad coke-trip hallucination, but hey. She yawned, hearing the front door open and close. She looked up to Jude, snuggling in closer to her pillow.
"What time is it?"
"Quarter after six."
"Logan must be home. Which means Riley's home, so—"
"I'll cut her off at the pass."
Lydia turned further into her pillow, and Jude smiled when he heard her mutter that he was too good for her. She slept through the rest of the evening, waking up at midnight when Quinn checked on her again. Jude was asleep on the futon near her closet, and Lydia was still running fever, which had crawled up to 101. She took the pills Quinn gave her, drifting back into a dreamless sleep.
The virus tore through the Scott/Evans household, with everyone becoming sick except for Jude and Logan. They tag-teamed, Logan doing the cooking while Jude passed out medicines and cleaned up. Riley was pitiful, almost as pitiful as Clay, while Quinn toughed it out. Lydia's fever finally broke on the third day, with Riley perking up right behind her. Quinn recovered soon after, but Clay, as always, was a terrible patient and almost had to go to the hospital for dehydration. Riley was the one who forced his recovery, using the charm of being Daddy's little girl to get her way. Peyton stopped by to bring various soups, setting them outside the door and ringing the bell, running back to her car before the door could open and any rogue germs escape.
A week later, everyone was much better, nearly back to fighting form. Clay was still milking his illness, but everyone was used to him and paid him no attention. Jude was spending his last day at the house, Brooke and Quinn deciding that a week with no fever at all in the house should be fine for Jude to come home. If Meg got sick anyway, then it was obviously just meant to be. Lydia had gotten used to having him around all the time, especially since once she was fever-free and on the road to recovery, he'd come crawling into her bed after everyone was asleep. Spending all night wrapped up in Jude's arms made Lydia feel better, like maybe the world wasn't as dark as she thought it was.
When he was gone, though, her tune changed.
It was harder and harder to get out of bed every day. She was so tired of putting on a brave face, going to school and pretending everything was fine. She stopped using, but kept the cocaine stuff buried in her top dresser drawer, kind of as a reminder of how bad it had gotten. Jude was worried about her, she knew, because whenever they were together, if they weren't making out, she was curled as close to him as she could be, just letting him hold her.
"Hey, Quinn?"
Quinn put down her mug of tea and turned to her husband. She gave him a smile, and he rubbed the back of his head as he walked over to her.
"Something's up with our girl."
"I know."
She sighed, looking down at the kitchen countertop, then back to Clay.
"What do we do?"
"I think we need to take her to talk to someone."
"A shrink?"
"Maybe."
Quinn let her shoulders drop, and Clay moved behind her to massage them.
"I don't know exactly what's going on, but she seems so down. She tries to pretend like nothing's wrong around us, but come on. We've been around her since she was born. Since before she was born. If anyone knows her, it's you and I."
"You're right. You're right. We need … We need to help her."
Clay pressed a kiss to Quinn's neck.
"I'll call around, see if there's someone who can take us on."
Quinn nodded, and Clay jogged off to his office. Quinn took another sip of her tea, then turned and walked out of the kitchen. She walked over to the piano in the music room, gently running her hand over the lid and the keys. She looked up at the bookshelf next to the piano, seeing her sister smiling down from the safety of her husband's arms. Haley and Nathan's wedding photo, from their second wedding, had been next to the piano for as far back as Quinn could remember. She walked over to it, letting her fingers drift across the glass.
"We need your help, Hales. Your little girl needs help. And I need help to know that I'm doing the right thing to help her."
Quinn looked behind her, out the French doors to see a beautiful butterfly fluttering through the garden. She smiled, looking back to the picture.
"Thanks, Hales."
She nodded once more, closing the piano as she left the room, heading to the office to help Clay find some way to help Lydia.