AN: This is a little shorter than I had anticipated, but I've been stuck on a particular scene so I'm removing that scene from this chapter and hopefully I'll be able to begin the next chapter with it. Perhaps going ahead and posting what I do have written will help me continue to write.
Thanks to anyone who has stuck with this story!
Hannah was wakened early the next morning by a nurse with a long Q-tip in her hand.
"We're going to do a quick test to see if you have the flu, dear," she'd said in a cheery voice.
Not seeing a needle, Hannah didn't think she had anything to worry about. Oh, how wrong she had been! The nurse had quickly explained that she just needed to swab Hannah's nose. While Hannah wasn't a particular fan of having her throat swabbed, she figured having her nose swabbed couldn't possibly be as bad as that.
It was worse.
Hannah felt the overwhelming urge to sneeze as the nurse swirled the swab around inside one of her nostrils, and didn't feel at all guilty about the shriek she let out as a result. Of course, that shriek irritated her throat and chest, and the nurse had only just removed the swab when Hannah began to cough violently.
As she glared daggers at the nurse (who didn't seem nearly as concerned by said daggers as Hannah thought she ought to be), Hannah became aware of an increased soreness in her throat. Her head was definitely more congested and there was a tightness in her chest that she didn't care for at all. Not wanting to be poked or prodded any more than necessary, Hannah wasn't about to volunteer that information.
She glanced over to where Mary Margaret and David had been waiting when she'd first arrived. To her surprise, someone had set up a cot in the corner of the room, and David was sitting on the edge of that cot, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It was clear he had been sleeping, but her shriek had likely woken him from that slumber. Hannah decided she felt a little bad for disrupting his sleep. Mary Margaret, meanwhile, was nowhere to be found. How odd, Hannah thought. She didn't think Mary Margaret would have gone home and just left her with David at the hospital, not without saying anything first.
Her confusion cleared moments later when the nurse turned to open the door and Mary Margaret walked in, a paper beverage cup in each hand. Hannah suspected it was coffee.
Upon spying Hannah, Mary Margaret offered a bright, warm smile. "Good morning, sweetie!" She set the cups on a small table adjacent to the cot and moved to kiss her daughter's forehead. Cool hands soon pressed against Hannah's forehead and cheeks, and judging by the frown on her mother's face, the girl suspected her temperature must still be high. "How are you feeling?"
"Ehh," Hannah muttered, not missing the increased hoarseness in her voice. "Can I go home yet?"
Mary Margaret smoothed back Hannah's hair. "I think you already know the answer to that."
"I don't like this bed," she fussed. "It's uncomfortable, and I want my bear…"
Feeling bad, Mary Margaret exchanged a quick look with David. It hadn't occurred to her the night before to bring the stuffed animal as they'd hurried to get Hannah to the hospital. She couldn't possibly leave Hannah to go get it from the apartment, but Mary Margaret also didn't feel right asking David to go pick it up when he was clearly still exhausted.
"We'll get your bear in a little bit," she offered, hoping that might appease Hannah. "I was talking to your dad last night after you fell asleep, and he said it would be okay to pick up breakfast from Granny's for you. What would you like to eat?"
Hannah shook her head. "M'not hungry. I want my Sprite, please."
Holding back a sigh, Mary Margaret reached for Hannah's cup from the night before. The clear soda was now likely flat and room temperature, but she offered Hannah the cup anyway, waiting patiently as the girl brought the straw to her lips and took a brief sip. A moment later, she heard the unmistakable sound of air and droplets of liquid being sucked through a straw simultaneously, and Mary Margaret realized Hannah had finished the drink.
"More please," murmured the eleven-year-old.
"You need something other than just flavored sugar," Mary Margaret told her. "How about some eggs or pancakes?"
If she were being completely honest, Hannah would have to admit that she was a bit hungry. However, the thought of swallowing down anything other than liquids right then held no appeal. "Unh..." Hannah whined, shaking her head again. "I just want Sprite…"
"Food first, then Sprite," Mary Margaret said firmly.
"Not. Hungry!" she croaked out, spurring a small coughing fit that made Mary Margaret frown in concern. Once she'd stopped coughing long enough to take a decent breath, Hannah gladly accepted a water cup from Mary Margaret and took an impressive sip. The cool liquid helped to soothe the fire in Hannah's throat, though it did nothing for the soreness in her chest.
Seeing that Hannah was finished for the moment, Mary Margaret gently took the water cup and set it back on the table beside the bed. "You weren't coughing like that last night," she observed. Wondering if had happened before, Mary Margaret turned to David, who was a bit more alert after having drank nearly half of his coffee. "Was she coughing like this while I was out?"
"She was coughing when I woke up," David admitted.
Nodding, Mary Margaret looked back down at her younger daughter. "We'll need to talk to your father about this," she decided.
David stood, taking a brief moment to stretch. "I'm going to head to Granny's to pick up some breakfast. The usual?"
"Yes, please," smiled Mary Margaret.
"And how about you, Hannah?" David asked as he stopped at the foot of the bed. "What would you like for breakfast?"
"Sprite."
Mary Margaret let out an exasperated sigh, but David was more amused than anything. "I will get you some Sprite," he told Hannah, watching as her eyes widened in surprise, "but you'll have to eat something reasonable first." Just like that, Hannah's face deflated and she graced him with an epic pout. "Perhaps a little oatmeal?" he suggested.
Hannah considered that. Oatmeal might not be awful on her throat. "With cinnamon and bananas?" she asked tentatively.
Relieved that she was cooperating, David gave a firm nod. "I think we can do that. Maybe a warm cocoa to go with it?"
The girl shrugged a shoulder noncommittally, though cocoa did in fact sound nice.
"Got it," agreed David. "Give me a call if you need anything while I'm out," he told Mary Margaret as he walked over to kiss her. Afterwards, he moved his lips next to her ear to whisper, "Ask Whale to take a look at her throat." He waited for his wife's nod before moving directly next to Hannah. "I'll be back soon with breakfast." A quick kiss to Hannah's forehead, and David left.
Mary Margaret took the opportunity to press her hands to Hannah's cheeks once more. She watched as Hannah sighed, eyes fluttering closed.
"That feels good…"
"Your dad or a nurse will check your temperature properly soon."
Hannah made a face. "Dad's nurses suck."
"That is not a nice thing to say, Hannah," Mary Margaret scolded lightly.
"It's the truth," Hannah retorted, completely unapologetic. "One came in all cheery this morning and then stuck a Q-tip up my nose and it was awful."
Mary Margaret nodded in understanding. "Your dad said they were going to do a flu test."
"Awful," the girl repeated before coughing. She gratefully the water cup from her mother, taking another sip. "Not like David." At her mother's questioning look, Hannah added, "David's nice. I like him."
It was the first time Mary Margaret had heard Hannah express her feelings for David so openly. "He cares very much for you as well."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why does David care about me? It's not like I'm his real daughter."
She didn't like the way Hannah used the phrase 'real daughter' to imply that she was somehow less worthy of anyone's love, including David's, but Mary Margaret chose not to engage in that particular battle while Hannah was sick and tired. "You mean, besides the fact that it's inconceivable for anyone not to love you?" she asked honestly.
As a shining example of 'sick and tired', Hannah rolled her eyes impressively as she whined, "Mom…"
It was enough of a reason, as far as Mary Margaret was concerned, but she smiled softly. "Well, David loves me. You come from me, so he loves you, too."
"Well look who's awake."
Mother and daughter both turned to see the newest arrival to the room. Upon spying her father's face, Hannah promptly made her displeasure with the nurse earlier known. "Your nurses suck."
"Hannah," Mary Margaret scolded again, her voice more stern this time.
"Your displeasure is noted," he said lightly, pulling a small device from his pocket that fit easily in his hand. It looked like a rounded, stumpy version of an otoscope – the tool doctors used to look in ears – and Hannah quickly recognized what it was. The doctor at her last physical in Massachusetts had used one to take her temperature – it scanned her forehead instead of sitting under her tongue.
Whale touched the infrared thermometer to Hannah's temple, then gently slid it across her forehead to her other temple. "How are you feeling?"
"I'll feel better when I can go home," she tried.
"You'll be able to go home after you've been fever free for at least 24 hours." Whale lifted the thermometer closer to his face so he could read the digital screen. 102.7°. Well, it was under 103, and Whale was grateful for that, even if the medicine they'd started the night before hadn't done much to combat her fever. He started to wonder whether it was actually flu. Fortunately, with the swab down in the lab, he'd know soon enough. "How are you feeling?"
Hannah's only response was a soft 'hmph'.
"She's been coughing a bit since waking this morning," Mary Margaret offered, knowing Hannah wouldn't volunteer that information. As it was, she didn't miss the annoyance flit across Hannah's face as she told Whale. "It sounds awful when she does. Oh, and David had mentioned something about her throat."
Whale immediately reached for a tongue depressor. "Open up and say 'ahhhhh'," he told Hannah.
The child sighed but complied nonetheless. The oversized popsicle stick tasted funny, but it didn't make her gag. Her father didn't say anything as he looked in her throat. After a few moments, he removed the tongue depressor, and Hannah closed her mouth at once. She watched as he dropped the stick in a nearby trash can. He then reached for a thin plastic-wrapped package. Hannah could just make out a long swab, similar to the one the nurse had used in her nose, inside the wrapping. "Nuh uh."
Placing the unopened package on a tray, Whale placed a hand on his hip as he looked down at his stubborn patient. "Does your throat hurt?"
She seemed to mull over the question for a few seconds. "If I say no, will you throw away that demon stick?"
"No," he said, dashing any hopes she might have held. "However, if you say no, and it turns out you're lying about your throat hurting, you and I will have a talk about honesty once you're feeling better."
"Your nurse already tortured me earlier," Hannah pouted.
Whale shook his head. "You didn't answer my question, Hannah. Does your throat hurt?"
Hannah sighed. "Yes, but I don't want you to stick that thing down my throat."
He nodded, grateful for the honest answer. Her throat had appeared pretty irritated when he'd looked a minute earlier, but he needed her to acknowledge it. "I know you don't like tests, but this one doesn't hurt."
"It makes me feel like I'm going to hurl," she argued.
Whale shrugged casually. "If you'd rather wait for one of the nurses to do it, that can certainly be arranged."
She wished she had something to throw, if only to express her frustration, but there was nothing within her reach that would provide any sort of release. At his expectant look, she muttered, "No."
He unwrapped the swab, wanting to get the test over with as quickly as possible. "Open up again." The moment she'd opened her mouth enough for him to see part of her throat, he inserted the swab, gently rubbing it against the back of her throat. She started gagging almost at once, and Whale just managed to remove the swab and secure the protective cap over the tip when she began to cough.
Right away, he could hear why Mary Margaret had been concerned. It didn't sound like the kind of cough that resulted from nasal drainage. It sounded more like a chest cough. "Sit up for me for a minute," he told Hannah, pulling out his stethoscope and inserting the ear pieces in his ears. Once she was more upright, he had her take some deep breaths and then breathe normally, listening to chest as she did so. Damn, the thought to himself. He mentally slapped himself for not drawing blood the night before when they'd first set up Hannah's IV, but he'd still thought it was just the flu then. He was going to have to draw from a fresh site – the IV fluid could dilute the sample and alter the test results, and he didn't want to take that chance.
Hannah wasn't going to be happy about it.
"I'm going to order a chest x-ray," he told Mary Margaret and Hannah as he draped the stethoscope back around his neck. "I don't like the sound of that cough. Let me get this throat swab down to the lab, and then I'll be back." Though he didn't say it out loud, he was going to need that time to mentally prepare to stick his kid once again and the inevitable fight that would ensue.
Forty-five minutes later, Hannah was propped up in her bed, a fresh band-aid on the crook of her right arm, and a small bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and sliced bananas on the tray in front of her. A small cup of cocoa (also with cinnamon, as she'd discovered she favored the unusual combination) sat beside her breakfast, while two 20-oz bottles of Sprite had been set on a nearby table.
As Whale had predicted, Hannah had made a fuss over having to be poked again, and as before, she'd demanded Whale be the one to do the poking. He usually left such tasks up to the nurses and other medical technicians, but he found he couldn't say no when it was his daughter asking.
That same daughter was taking her sweet time eating her breakfast, but Whale couldn't exactly blame her. Clearly her throat hurt, and although oatmeal was soft and warm, her throat seemed pretty tender. Even the softest foods ran the risk of irritating her throat. Hopefully the results of the tests they'd performed that morning would provide the answers he needed to help her feel better.
Something buzzed against his waist. Whale reached down and checked his pager with a sigh. He had other patients to check on. "I'll be back to check on you in a little bit," he told Hannah.
She offered him a small smile as she took another bite of her oatmeal.
"Why don't you close your eyes for a bit and rest?"
Hannah groaned, which only served to tickle her throat enough that she couldn't help but cough. "I'm not sleepy."
She'd finished her oatmeal a few minutes earlier, and had drank half of her cocoa. Though reasonably full, she'd still insisted on a few sips of Sprite from one of the bottles David had brought, both for the principle of it all and to wash down the cough syrup a nurse had given her.
Now, she was actually a bit sleepy, but she was uncomfortable and bored and feeling just plain contrary. If Mary Margaret or David or Whale wanted her to sleep, then that was the last thing she wanted to do.
"I can see you're still tired," said Mary Margaret.
Hannah shook her head stubbornly. "I'm not… Emma!" she exclaimed, temporarily distracted as the door opened and Emma poked her head in.
"Hey kid," came the familiar greeting. Emma turned to greet Mary Margaret. "Neal is at Granny's," she told the other woman. "Where's Dad?"
"He went into the station," Mary Margaret answered.
Emma nodded in understanding. "I'm on my way there now. I just had something I thought I'd bring Hannah first."
Hannah's eyes widened as she noticed a lumpy tote bag hanging over Emma's shoulder. "What's that?"
Reaching into the bag, Emma pulled out Hannah's stuffed bear. She held it out to Hannah, who took it at once and held it against her chest.
"Thank you, Emma."
"You're welcome, kid. I've got to get to the station, but I'll see how you're feeling later this afternoon."
Hannah had closed her eyes after uttering her thanks, but she felt a hand brush the top of her head. A hint of a smile flashed across her face as she held her bear closer to her. Before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep.