Agnes 8
Author's Note: So, I thought Don was having too much fun….let me know what you think.
Please take a look at Ressler, Listen to Me and The Long Game as well as leave a review. Thanks everyone!
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Don thought he was going to die. He had vomited up everything he had probably eaten in the last week and so had Agnes.
"How are you sweetie?" Don asked her as he handed her a hot pack for her stomach that he'd warmed in the microwave.
She whimpered.
He felt her forehead and she was on fire.
"When did I give you Tylenol?" Don asked her.
She shrugged and turned back to the TV, a bucket next to her on the floor, and ginger ale on the coffee table.
Don caught a hint of some smell and ran to the washroom to throw up bile.
Agnes had both diarrhea and had been vomiting and he was disgusted by what had come out of each of them. He's actually thrown out two pairs of her pants and underwear rather than wash them in this state, as he tried to keep himself from hurling as he bagged them and took them to the garbage shoot.
He flushed the bile, and threw water on his face. He had barely been able to stay awake and on his feet taking care of her and, if he was honest, his care was not that stellar. She hadn't wanted to eat so he hadn't forced it, he probably should. She had hardly drank anything and he also hadn't pushed the fluids. He really should have written down when he gave her Tylenol last…
Don reached for his phone and texted his cousin who was a pediatrician.
Five-year-old with food poisoning. Not wanting food. Not drinking much. Fever. Should I get her to the hospital?
Don dropped the phone on a chair and reached for the children's Tylenol. It had been at least two hours since he last dosed her, probably more like three.
"Here Honey, can you drink this?" Don asked as he stood over her with a tiny shot glass of purple liquid. "It's grape."
Agnes shook her head in the negative vigorously and the motion caused her to barf down the front of his sofa and some of it may have reached the bucket.
"Shit," Don said as he put down the cup and carefully walked to the kitchen and grabbed a wet cloth and towel, going to her to wipe her face and soak up the vomit.
"I want mummy!" Agnes cried as her body shook.
"I do too sweetie," Don said absently as he soaked up the vomit.
It was then that he smelled the diarrhea again.
"Agnes, do we need new pants again?" Don asked her, half hoping she had just farted.
She cried harder.
"It's okay honey, you can't…"
"I want my mummy!" Agnes wailed.
"I know, I know," Don said as he dropped the towel on the ground and reached for her and carried her dangling in front of him to the washroom and promptly stood her in the tub. "Let me get you some fresh clothes."
Agnes stood and cried in the tub inconsolable. Don came back with some fresh tights and underwear and helped her out of her disgusting clothes, hosed her down, and helped her get dressed in clean clothes. Once, he had to turn to the toilet to vomit, but nothing came up, and that felt worse.
Don picked her up and felt his whole body break out into chills.
"Oh my god," Don said as he shivered.
"You, okay?" She asked as she placed a hand on his cheek.
"No sweetie, I'm sick too," Don said as he placed her down on the opposite end of the sofa away from the vomit.
"The sun shines on me here," Agnes complained.
"Well, the other end has puke on it, so your choice," Don said, too tired to argue.
He sat down heavily on the chair and nodded toward the purple shot. "Can you take that now, please?"
Agnes crawled toward it and shot it back like a pro.
Don reached under him for the phone he was sitting on and noted there was a message on the app from Liz, he wasn't answering her now. And another 3 texts from his cousin.
Yes. Was the first text.
Who is this five-year-old? Was the second text.
Are you sick too? Was the third.
Don sighed and looked at Agnes laying on the sofa with a blanket, comfortable. She was not going to want to get in the car and he wasn't honestly sure if he could drive to the hospital without throwing up along the way.
He texted back.
OK. I will get her there. She's my friend's daughter who I am taking care of. Yeah, I've been sick as well.
"Agnes," Don said as he pulled a blanket around himself to try and cut the chill that seemed to go right to his bones. "Sweetie, we need to go see a doctor."
"Nooo," Agnes moaned.
Don sighed. He didn't have the energy to argue with her, but he couldn't risk that she was really ill, and it wasn't just food poisoning. Fucking take-out chicken.
It was in this moment that Don was thinking how much easier it is to be sick without a child to care for as well. He could just have crawled into his own bed and went through 2 days of barfing and sleeping had it not been for Agnes.
Don got up from the chair with the blanket pulled tight around him and walked to his bedroom and pulled on a fresh jersey shirt and a hoodie. He went to Agnes' clothes and grabbed her a hoodie as well and some socks.
He shuffled back to the living room and sat down on the other end of the sofa carefully avoiding the barf. He pulled her feet out and placed socks on them. She allowed it with little fight. He then got up and put her arms in the hoodie and zipped the front up. She was not thrilled but she merely looked around him to see Elsa & Anna. Don shuffled back to the front door and pulled on his own shoes, his stomach lurching as he bent over, but he managed to not have another run to the washroom. He snagged Agnes' runners and brought them to her.
"No!" She kicked at him as he reached for a foot.
"Agnes, we're going to the doctors," Don said, his voice sharp and his nerves on edge.
"No!" She kicked again.
Don grabbed her one foot and threw a shoe on it quickly and reached for her other foot and she started to kick off the first shoe.
"Agnes! Stop!" Don snapped.
She continued to kick.
"Fuck it," Don said, knowing he should never speak that way in front of her, but really not caring right now as he was cold and sweaty, and his stomach rolled.
He walked with her shoes to a backpack and threw them in it, threw her favorite stuffie in, and grabbed the ipad and his charger and zipped it shut. He grabbed a water for each of them and shoved them in the side pockets and walked back toward her with his wallet, keys, and phone.
"Come on," Don said as he picked up the remote control and turned off the TV.
"Elsa!" Agnes screamed.
"Elsa will be here when we get back," Don said as he pulled off her blanket and threw down the remote. "We have Disney plus."
Agnes looked at him with a look he had seen on her mother a million times. She was not pleased with him, not at all.
"Now," Don said, trying to use his most stern voice.
She got up from the sofa and he pulled her shoes out of the backpack and threw them on the floor. She slid her feet in her sketchers and stomped to the front door.
Don closed his eyes. She was her mother's child.
He had to stop once on the way there for him to throw up and once for Agnes to throw up. It took them over 40 minutes to get to a hospital that was 15 minutes away and by the time they walked into the emergency room of the hospital they both looked green enough to get them pushed into an isolation room.
Three hours later, Agnes had been admitted for gastroenteritis, hooked up to IV fluids, they'd both been given Gravol and Tylenol, and Don had been given a cot in her room and some Gatorade . She was finally asleep in her hospital gown with her stuffie securely under her arm, when Don sent Liz a message.
Call ASAP. See through yoga pants.
Don put the phone back in his pocket and laid down, his head on a crunchy pillow and the Gravol he'd been given starting to make him sleepy. He had called Reddington from the emergency room and he had sent the team that followed them to the hospital inside to guard their door so Agnes could be cared for and Don could sleep. Don recalled the conversation:
"Why didn't you call sooner?" Reddington asked.
"I thought it was just the take-out chicken we ate and that it would pass," Don admitted.
"Well Donald, I am glad you and Agnes are being cared for by medical professionals, but know that, in the future, you should call and get help," Reddington offered.
Don nodded absently and they disconnected the call.
Don had only thrown up once since coming to the hospital but had made several quick trips to the washroom as the diarrhea that plagued Agnes, hit him. The doctor said this could last for up to two weeks and Don's will to live was tested by that statement alone. He had barely survived two days, the two of them sick, and now Agnes was hospitalized. Liz was going to kill him.
His phone started to vibrate in his pocket and Don picked it up and took the video call.
"You need to be quiet because she's sleeping," Don said.
"Why does it look like you are in a hospital?" Liz asked immediately.
"Because we are in a hospital, Liz," Don said softly. "She's fine, just dehydrated from gastroenteritis because she wouldn't drink anything."
"Wait, what?" Liz asked him.
He relayed the story of their gastrointestinal issues over the last two days, thinking it was food poisoning and coming to understand that it was something else. He talked about Agnes' fits, her refusing to drink or eat anything, and the situation it landed them in on the advice of his cousin.
"Can I see her?" Liz asked, her voice thready.
Don nodded and walked over to her bed with his phone and shone it down on a sleeping Agnes with her tiger stuffie tucked under her arm and the IV attached to the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry Liz," Don said as he turned to phone back to face him.
Liz nodded and wiped at her eyes.
"I thought it was the take-out chicken and it would pass in a few hours, and then we both got really sick and it was hard just keeping up with her diarrhea and vomiting and the Tylenol and…"
"Don, I don't blame you," she said. "I'm mad at myself for not being there for her, for both of you."
"Don't worry about it," Don said as he pulled the hospital blanket around himself a little more. Their room was freezing. He leaned down and felt Agnes' forehead and pulled her blanket up to her shoulders. "Her fever is gone."
Liz nodded and watched the man she loved care for the child she loved under extraordinary circumstances.
"I love you so much," Liz said.
Don smiled in the dark and winked at her.
"I don't know if you would love me so much if you knew that I just kept throwing out her pants instead of washing them, or snapped at her about the Tylenol, or was so frustrated with her kicking her shoes off when I was trying to get her ready for the hospital that I said 'fuck' in front of her," Don admitted all of his misdeeds, knowing he couldn't keep them from her.
"I think I love you more," Liz chuckled. "You were sick too and trying your best."
Don chuckled. "And my best landed her in the hospital."
"Don, unless you were forcing her to drink, she's not gonna drink," Liz said. "You brought her to the hospital so they could get fluids in her. That's what matters."
Don nodded and went to the cot and sat down on it.
"So, what now?" Liz asked.
"They'll keep her on IV fluids for the night and they'll assess in the AM," Don said. "She needs to agree to drink before they'll let us go."
"How are you doing? You don't look well," Liz said, concern edging her voice.
"I feel like shit, but I'll be fine," Don said as he laid down and held the phone up in the air.
Liz could tell he was done talking about himself and Agnes.
"How about calling Aram or your mom or…?" Liz asked. Hating that she was not there to help, hating that she was asking him to reach out to another person for help.
"We're fine, Liz," Don said, hoping he believed it and sold it to her.
Liz sighed.
He laid with his eyes closed.
"I should let you sleep," she said as she looked at him resting.
He said nothing for a moment and then smiled.
"Like my code?" Don said as his smile grew.
"You are never going to let me live that down," Liz chuckled and turned a deep shade of red.
"Would you rather I told you they were see-through, or you continued to jog in them without underwear?" Don asked her.
Liz swallowed hard. The realization that she had been running around her neighborhood in her lululemon yoga pants for several months and everyone had seen her ass through them was humbling.
"I'm glad you told me," Liz said.
"Thank you," Don nodded as he opened his eyes. "But I'm glad you still kept them for around your apartment."
His leer and raised eyebrow were unmistakable.
"When you are better, we're going to need a private, a very private, call just you and I," Liz said with a sultry voice.
"Are we?" Don asked, his eyes opening a little wider.
"Oh yes, mister," Liz said with a smile.
"I like this new use of the video call," Don said with a smirk.
Liz looked at his eyes closing and then re-opening.
"Get to sleep," she said softly. "Sweet dreams and thanks for taking care of our girl."
Don nodded and the call disconnected. It was just as he was drifting off that he realized Liz had called Agnes "our girl".
To be continued….