The next time Hannah woke, she felt dreadfully hot. She shifted, a soft moan escaping her lips as she tried to push the covers off of her body.
"Hi sweetie," a gentle voice said from nearby. Tilting her head, Hannah spied her mother rising from a chair. "What's wrong?"
"Hot…"
Mary Margaret helped to pull back the comforter, leaving the sheet in place, and sat on the edge of the bed as she reached out to feel Hannah's forehead. To her dismay, Hannah felt as hot as she had earlier. "I'm going to check your temperature again."
Hannah shook her head fractionally. "Bathroom…" she mumbled, slowly pushing herself up so she was seated on the bed.
"Okay," Mary Margaret agreed with a nod. She stood and moved the top sheet out of Hannah's way. Taking a small step back, she watched Hannah carefully as the girl slid her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself to her feet.
"I can walk…" Hannah said, unsure of whether Mary Margaret would try to carry her like Emma and David had earlier. She still felt groggy, but that independent streak in her balked at the idea of being carried like a baby.
Mary Margaret smiled softly. "Of course you can, Hannah."
Hannah shuffled towards the stairs, Mary Margaret never leaving her line of sight but keeping enough distance so as not to completely hover. Grasping the railing as tightly as she could, Hannah allowed one foot to drop to the first step before shifting her other foot to join it. She did this with each step, managing quite well on her own until about halfway down when she her foot caught on the edge of her current step and she began to stumble.
Like lighting, Mary Margaret reached out to grab Hannah to keep her from falling. "Are you all right?" she asked as Hannah steadied herself.
"Mhm," Hannah murmured, watching carefully as she shifted her foot down to the next step. Focused on her feet, she didn't realize she had an audience until she reached the bottom floor and looked up to see David and Emma standing there.
"Are you okay?" David asked, carefully observing Hannah for any sign of injury.
"I'm fine," she insisted as she shuffled toward the bathroom.
Watching Hannah disappear into the bathroom, David turned to Mary Margaret. "I think those stairs are going to be a problem for her while she's feeling sick."
"She made a point to remind me that she can walk when she got of bed," Mary Margaret admitted. "She's going to make a fuss if we insist on carrying her up and down the stairs."
"She really ought to stay down here where she's closer to the bathroom," Emma pointed out. "I don't know that the couch is the best place for her though."
Mary Margaret shook her head. "She's not staying on the sofa, regardless of whether or not she's sick." An idea came to her, and she looked at David. "Hannah should sleep in our room. We can move Neal's crib over by the sofa."
"That sounds like a great idea," David said in agreement. "What does Hannah have up in the loft that you think she'll want down here?"
"She has a bear," volunteered Emma. "It should be on her bed."
"I left the Children's Tylenol and thermometer up there," Mary Margaret added. "Would you please bring those down as well?"
"Of course," David replied, heading at once for the stairs.
When Hannah emerged from the bathroom a minute later, she froze when she discovered both Mary Margaret and Emma's gazes focused on her. She couldn't stop the whine that slipped through her lips. "Whaaaaat?"
Emma seemed amused by Hannah's reaction, which only annoyed the girl. "How are you feeling?"
"Peachy," Hannah muttered with a half-hearted eye roll.
Approaching her daughter, Mary Margaret pressed a kiss to her forehead before hugging her gently. "David and I decided you should stay down here in our room while you're feeling icky."
Hannah blinked in surprise. She couldn't say she objected to not having to trek up and down the stairs, but she felt confused. "Where will you sleep?"
"You don't need to worry about that," Mary Margaret insisted as she shifted, guiding Hannah towards the bedroom with an arm draped around the child's shoulders. "Come get comfortable and I'll get you something to drink."
As soon as Hannah had stretched out on the bed, David approached with her bear. "Thought you might want this down here."
"Thank you," Hannah murmured with a grateful smile, curling up on her side with the bear snuggled to her chest. The quick trip to the bathroom felt like she'd walked a marathon, and she was perfectly content with going back to sleep.
She'd just closed her eyes when Mary Margaret said, "Not yet. I need to check your temperature, and I want you to drink some water so you don't get dehydrated."
Hannah made a whining sound in the back of her throat. Water sounded good, but the thermometer was a whole different matter.
"Why the fuss?" Mary Margaret questioned softly as she sat beside Hannah on the edge of the bed. "Checking your temperature doesn't hurt a bit."
"Don't want to go to the doctor…"
Mary Margaret sighed. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
It wasn't the response Hannah had hoped for, but nonetheless she allowed Mary Margaret to place the slender tool under her tongue. It was hard having to wait for the annoying thing to beep so she'd know whether or not her temperature had reached Whale's magic number.
After what felt like an eternity, the thermometer beeped. Before Mary Margaret could reach out to grasp it, though, Hannah pulled the thermometer out of her mouth and squinted at the screen.
102.4
Well, that wasn't pleasant, but she was still under 103, so Hannah would take it for the time being. Satisfied that she wouldn't have to argue against going anywhere just yet, she offered the thermometer to Mary Margaret.
"May I have some water, please?"
"Of course."
Hannah pushed herself up so she was seated. Seconds later, a cool glass was placed in her hands. Bringing the cup to her lips, Hannah sighed as she took a sip of the icy liquid. She drank nearly half of the cup's contents before handing it back to her mother. "Thank you."
Mary Margaret set the cup back down on the nightstand. "Are you hungry?"
"No," Hannah murmured as she slid back down so she could curl up once more. She closed her eyes, feeling fingers carefully comb through her hair as she returned to her slumber.
Hours later, Hannah opened her eyes to find the loft dimly lit. A soft light behind her seemed to be the only light on. Shifting her body, she found David sitting in an armchair, reading a book. "David?" she croaked, dismayed at how awful her voice sounded.
He seemed surprised at hearing his name, jerking his head up from the book to look at her, but he offered her a smile. "Hi honey."
It was her turn to feel surprised; she hadn't expected the term of endearment, but Hannah realized it felt nice. "Where's Mom?"
Setting aside his book, David rose from the chair. "Your mom is getting some rest so she can keep taking care of you."
That made sense, she thought as she slowly pushed herself up so she was sitting. She slid her legs over the side of the bed and stood, holding onto the nightstand for a moment to catch her bearings. Hannah felt a bit woozier than she had earlier, but did her best to push that feeling aside as she shuffled toward the bathroom.
She half expected David to follow her, but as she turned to close the bathroom door, she saw David move about in the kitchen.
When she emerged a minute later, David was back in the bedroom. A glass of water was on the nightstand – Hannah didn't remember seeing it when she'd first woke. She shuffled back, unable to suppress a sigh as she spied the thermometer next to the water. "The thermometer isn't necessary, you know," she mumbled. "We all know I have a fever."
David simply smiled as he picked up the thermometer and handed it to Hannah.
Hannah cooperated without a fuss, once more waiting for the beep. When it came and she looked at the number on the screen, though, Hannah felt her chest constrict.
103.3
Panicked, she hit the power button before David could take the thermometer from her. "Still fine," she said quickly at David's raised brow, setting the thermometer on the nightstand so she could get a drink of water. It was cold, like before, and as David reached for the thermometer and turned it back on, Hannah took a huge gulp of the icy water, letting it sit in her mouth a moment. Surely if he checked her temperature again, the water would temporarily alter the reading.
She watched him stare at the screen for a moment, then heard him sigh.
"One hundred three, Hannah," he said softly. How did he know that? She'd turned the thermometer off! The thermometer surely couldn't save the last reading… could it?
"The Tylenol just wore off," Hannah insisted. "I'll take some more."
David shook his head. "Your mom woke you just over an hour ago to give you another dose."
Hannah blinked, confused. She didn't remember waking up to take any medicine. "I'm sure it'll kick in soon."
"Hannah, your mom told me what your Dr. Whale said. If your temperature reached 103, he wanted you to go to the hospital."
Setting down the glass, Hannah wasted little time burrowing back under the covers. "No," she said in a panicked voice, coughing at the sudden strain on her vocal chords. "I'm not going."
Standing, David reached over to brush Hannah's hair from her forehead. "I'm going to go wake up Mary Margaret."
"No!" Hannah repeated, her voice smaller than she intended, as she watched him walk out of the room.
She wrapped herself up in the covers the best she could in an attempt to prevent either Mary Margaret or David from extracting her from the bed. She wasn't going to the hospital, no matter what anyone said!
Moments later, Mary Margaret was standing beside the bed where David had, leaning down to feel Hannah's forehead. Sighing, she leaned down to kiss Hannah's forehead. "I'm so sorry you're feeling awful, sweetie. I'm going to go get dressed, and then you, David, and I are going to head to the hospital."
Hannah pulled the covers tighter around her shoulders. "Noooo."
"You heard your father earlier. Your fever is getting higher and the Tylenol isn't helping. You need to be where doctors and nurses can keep your temperature from getting too high."
"I'm not going," Hannah insisted stubbornly, frowning at Mary Margaret.
The young mother stroked Hannah's head. "I'm sorry, Hannah, but this isn't your decision." Kissing the girl's head once more, Mary Margaret strode to the dresser to retrieve a sweater and a pair of pants. As she headed for the bathroom to change, David reentered the room carrying Hannah's slippers.
"We're going to slip these on your feet to help keep them warm," he explained as he set the slippers on the nightstand.
"I'm not going to the hospital."
"I'm afraid you are, kiddo," David responded in a firm voice. Reaching down, he pried the covers from Hannah's hands and pulled them towards the foot of the bed. Before Hannah could reach for the covers, he grabbed the slippers and sat atop the bunched up sheets and comforter, preventing Hannah from burrowing beneath them again. He gently reached for one of Hannah's feet so he could slip on her slipper, but the eleven-year-old began to kick that foot. In her weakened state her kicks didn't pack much of a punch, but David tightened his grip on Hannah's foot as he caught her gaze. "That's enough."
Hannah froze mid-kick. David's voice wasn't necessarily stern, but the firm command was clear. "I don't want to go," she whispered.
Putting the slipper on Hannah's foot, David offered the kid a sympathetic smile. "I know you don't, but it's the best way to help you get better." He moved to put on her other slipper, relieved that she hadn't resumed her resistance. He was certain she would put up enough of a fight once at the hospital. Satisfied that Hannah's feet would remain warm, David rose and moved to stand beside her, reaching down to lift her into his arms. David expected a complaint, given the whines he'd heard the other times he'd carried her, but to his surprise, Hannah only let out a soft whine before sighing and wrapping her arms around his neck. As he carried her out of the bedroom, Mary Margaret joined them.
"Emma's going to stay with Neal until the morning, and then she's going to take him to Granny's."
David nodded in understanding. "Let's get going."
"No."
"Hannah, you need to cooperate."
The eleven-year-old pulled the thin blanket tight around her shoulders and curled into a ball on her side, moving her arms as far away from the nurses as possible, pulling the blanket closer to the rest of her body in the process. She'd been in the hospital for fifteen minutes, and they were already trying to hook her up to an IV. Hannah was having none of it. "No. They're not sticking me with needles!"
Mary Margaret frowned at her younger daughter as a couple of nurses stood to the side, unwilling to wrestle the blanket from the girl. "Hannah Victoria," she said, her tone quiet but scolding.
"No!" Hannah repeated. "No needles. I want Dad." Hannah had zero doubts that her father would insist on the IV, but as far as Hannah was concerned, he was the only one allowed near her with a needle (mostly because she knew she couldn't stop him).
"Your father is on his way, and he's not going to be pleased that you're not cooperating."
Hannah was fairly certain she'd receive another scolding, but Whale wouldn't do anything worse while she was sick; Hannah was sure of it. "I want Dad," she insisted.
"I'm so sorry," Mary Margaret apologized to the nurses with a sigh.
One of the nurses opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, Whale strode into the room. He paused just inside the doorway, glancing from Hannah to the nurses to Mary Margaret and David before settling back on his daughter. Cocooned in the blanket, Hannah clearly hadn't had an IV inserted yet. "Hannah Victoria."
She didn't like his scolding tone, but Hannah refused to back down. "They aren't sticking me with any needles!"
His brow furrowed, but Hannah made no move to cooperate. After a moment, he turned to the nurses. "Could you give us a minute, please?"
As the nurses filed out of the room, Hannah studied her father's face, frowning. She'd been sure he wouldn't do anything more than scold, but she didn't like the expression on his face just then. Careful to remain cocooned, she shifted back onto her back, ensuring her rear was protected.
Whale crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Hannah, allowing his eyes to convey his displeasure.
She expected him to say something, but after what seemed like an eternity (in reality 10 seconds) of silence, she sighed. "I want you to do it," she mumbled, looking down at her legs.
Whale raised an eyebrow. "What was that, young lady?"
Biting her lip, Hannah lifted her gaze back up to Whale's face. "I want you to do it," she said, only slightly louder than before.
He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. "You want me to start your IV?" he clarified. At Hannah's nod, he frowned in confusion. "Hannah, the nurses are specifically trained to insert IVs. They would do a much easier job of it than I would."
Hannah shook her head stubbornly. "I want you."
Part of Whale balked at the idea of setting a bad precedent that Hannah could get what she wanted by throwing a fit. Then again, he mused to himself, did it really matter who inserted the IV as long as it was done? It would be much easier to have Hannah cooperate for him than to have to hold her down so that one of the nurses could accomplish the same task.
Sighing, he walked over to the sink and washed his hands before pulling on a pair of lab gloves. Then he took a seat on the stool by Hannah's bed and pulled the tray of supplies closer. "No more fits," he told her in a firm voice, "and I'm going to need your left arm."
A frown settled on Hannah's features, but she slowly extracted her arms from beneath the blanket and gently set them at her sides. She didn't fuss or object as Whale carefully located a good vein on the back of her hand. It wasn't until he wiped a circular area of the skin with an alcohol swab that a soft whine rose in the back of Hannah's throat, despite the fact she was sure her father was being far more gentle than any nurse would have been.
"I'm going to need you to keep your arm still for me, Hannah," Whale told her in a gentle tone. "I'm going to count to three, and then you'll feel a pinch for a few moments."
A hand wrapped around Hannah's right hand; the girl glanced over to see Mary Margaret standing there, offering her a comforting smile. "Just a few moments and the worst part will be over," she soothed.
Hannah squeezed her eyes shut, not trusting herself to stay still if she actually saw the needle approaching her skin.
"One," she heard her father count. "Two…"
At that point, Hannah felt a sharp pinch in her hand. "Owwww!" she complained, trying hard not to move her arm even though her first instinct was to move it away from the source of her pain. She kept her eyes shut tight, hoping that if she squeezed them hard enough the pain would disappear. After what seemed like an eternity, she felt something thin being pressed onto her hand, like tape. Un-scrunching her eyes, Hannah saw several pieces of tape on her hand. She couldn't see the actual needle, just the place where a tube would connect to the setup in her hand.
"All done," Whale announced. He cleaned up the supplies and tossed the gloves before returning to Hannah's side to lean down and kiss her forehead. "I'm proud of you for cooperating."
She was rather sleepy, having spent much of the little energy she had in her brief resistance, but Hannah figured it might be the right opportunity to get something out of the deal. "I'm thirsty. Can I have some Sprite?"
"I think that can be arranged," he said. "Are you hungry?"
Hannah shook her head.
Mary Margaret, still holding Hannah's right hand, rubbed the back of the small hand as she frowned. "She hasn't eaten anything since breakfast," she told Whale.
Hannah shook her head again, this time making a hum of disagreement as she glanced over at her mother. "I didn't eat breakfast…" she murmured.
Mary Margaret's frown grew. "You haven't eaten since last night?"
"Is your stomach upset?" Whale asked gently, hoping Hannah hadn't been keeping any symptoms from them.
"No," murmured the eleven-year-old. She slowly turned her head to glance from Mary Margaret to Whale. It was clear neither of them believed her. "I promise," she insisted, wriggling her hand free from Mary Margaret's so she could rub sleepily at her eyes. "Just not hungry."
"We'll make sure she eats something in the morning," Whale decided, hoping to ease Mary Margaret's concerns. "I'm going to go get her a Sprite. The nurses will be back in here in a moment to start a saline drip so Hannah doesn't become dehydrated. She won't starve from not eating for 24 hours."
Reaching out, Whale brushed a few damp strands of hair from Hannah's forehead. He made a mental note to prescribe a stronger fever reducer to hopefully cool the kid's temperature down a bit. "I'll be back in a minute, okay?"
"Okay…" Hannah yawned. Now that the IV was secured in place, she was less concerned about what the nurses (or her father) might need to do. She'd read enough about medicine from her father's books (which she chalked up to morbid curiosity) to know that most medicines she might need would be administered straight into that IV. The thought of having a needle stuck in her vein for an extended period of time was unnerving, but at least she wouldn't have to be poked repeatedly. As a result, she felt her body relax a little.
Once Whale had left in search of Hannah's requested beverage, Mary Margaret reached up to gently brush Hannah's hair off her forehead (a never-ending battle it seemed). The mother leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her child's temple. "A little Sprite, and then I want you to go back to sleep so your body can rest."
Yawning once more, Hannah murmured in a sleepy voice, "'Kay, Mom."