Disclaimer: I don't own the characters; they belong to Maureen Jennings and the CBC.
Author's Note: Another prompt from Kiki's Fanfiction World! :) Thanks for keeping one of my boots solidly on the ground in Toronto, I really do love it here!
A Heated Conversation, 7x12 "Unfinished Business"
"I think he's asleep."
"Should we wake him?"
"The Inspector will have his arse if he catches him sleeping on the job."
"Good point. Go on, then."
"Me? You're the one who pointed it out."
"Lads," George Crabtree cut in tiredly, yawning as he lifted his head off his forearms. "I'm awake."
"Only just," McNabb pointed out, exchanging a glance with John Hodge. He noted George's pale complexion and the slow blink of George's eyes as the constable leaned slowly back in his chair. "You all right, George?" he questioned.
"Aside from you and Hodge yammering in my ears and the splitting headache, I'm well enough, thank you." The snap didn't have George's usual bite-in fact, the man sounded exhausted.
"You sound like hell," McNabb informed him. George didn't bother with a comeback.
Hodge studied him. He'd noted George hadn't been looking well earlier that morning when they'd been out digging for Mr. Roundhill's supposedly murdered wife. Though, he admitted, none of them on that particular assignment had looked well. The day was unbearably hot for June, hot enough that the Detective, bless him, had let them strip to their skivvies to do the digging, with a whispered, "Don't tell the Inspector."
Hodge had been trading off with Wilcox and teaming for their share, but George had largely been on his own, and his spot hadn't been near as shady as their own. "George."
The constable lifted his head off his chest high enough to make eye contact-eye contact, Hodge realized, that was slow in focus. "George, have you had much to drink today?"
The younger man frowned at the line of questioning and arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" he demanded, insulted. "W-who do you I look like to you? Higgins?"
McNabb snorted, but Hodge pressed. "That isn't what I mean, George. Water. It's hotter than the devil's pockets today, and we spent most of the morning out in the sun and humidity digging for that body. Have you had any water today?"
Understanding dawned on McNabb's face, and he surreptitiously backed away to the water cooler.
Hodge waited for George's answer. The other man took a breath and let it out. "Truth be told, Hodge, no, I haven't. First the digging, and I was too tired after that so I came directly back here, and then Lutz was dealing with a belligerent suspect in the cells and I assisted with that, and I'm a bit behind in my paperwork from an arrest yesterday. A drink's been on my mind, but not in the form of water-"
The room spun. "Head between your knees," Hodge ordered him, guiding George to the correct position. McNabb returned with some water and shoved it into George's fingers. "Drink that. All of it," Hodge told him. "He's ill from the heat," he explained to McNabb, whose eyes lit up in understanding. "George, you need to sit upright and drink as much water as you can get into you. You're exhausted from being out in that miserable humidity and sun all morning."
"Didn't think you…could get ill from the heat," George said, gulping down the water McNabb had given him, and the redheaded constable went to fetch him another. "Never had that problem in Newfoundland."
"No, I imagine not." Hodge glanced into the Detective's office. "You ought to ask the Detective or the Inspector if you can get some rest. You need cool air and time to cool down."
George managed a smile. "You should've just left me," he joked. "Much longer and I'd have been on ice in the morgue. Doesn't get much cooler than that."
McNabb rolled his eyes. "He's fine," he told Hodge. "Just playin' it up for an excuse to go home early."
"Feel free to trade me off next time, McNabb," George told him. "I've dug more holes than the gravediggers it would seem."
"It'll never happen," McNabb teased him. "Hodge's too old, the Detective's too sharply dressed, and you're too good at it."
George sighed, accepting the liquid offering from McNabb. "Isn't that the truth," he muttered into the glass.
Author's Note II: This episode does take place after Loch Ness Murdoch, and the running point all through that episode was the heat, but part of me thinks the air off the lake water on top of George's shaved ice and the couple visits to the morgue tempered the heat exhaustion he may have felt that day. Unlike a sweltering regular day digging multiple holes searching for a body.