The Venice Incident
by Apple-chan
Disclaimer: insert witty disclaimer remark here
LysergXJeanne. Waff, fluff, maybe a bit of angst, and a really annoying Marco.
Set approximately 10 or so years after the Anime (so Lyserg's about 22 and
Jeanne's 18). Set in Venice, Italy. Falling over a gondola into the Grand Canal:
disaster, or blessing in disguise? We'll find out.^_^
Spoilers: The whole Anime series, and I think the first half of the Celebrations
Arc. It is absolutely necessary to have at least gone that far in order to get
this, else everything will be extremely confusing.
Warnings: PG-13 for adult situations and mild swearing.
Chapter 4 - Delirium and Protection
Lyserg opened his eyes as he listened to the pitter-pattering of the rain
outside his hotel room window. He fleetingly glanced up at the clock by the
door. It was way past midnight, slightly more than an hour after he and Jeanne
had gone to bed.
He and Jeanne...bed. Somehow, that little statement gave an odd sort of
connotation. They had dinner together, bid each other goodnight almost at the
same time...and are now currently sleeping on the same bed, next to each other,
almost like...like...a couple. A newlywed couple on their honeymoon, minus the
sex...Lyserg stopped abruptly at that thought, mentally kicking himself.
Here you go again with your bloody impure thoughts, Lyserg Diethyl. You're an
absolutely honest-to-goodness immoral git, you know that?
Heaving a loud, resigned sigh, he rolled over on his other side, careful not to
disturb Morphin, who was resting at the very corner of his bed, leaning against
the upper-right-hand post. He smiled fondly upon setting eyes on the young woman
beside him. Somehow, Jeanne had rolled over in her sleep without him noticing.
She was now sleeping on her side, with her front facing him, allowing him a
liberal view of her whole face...and a liberal view of certain other parts of
her body, as well...
QUIT IT with those bloody impure thoughts, you!
Forcibly shaking himself out of this seemingly eternal immoral stupor, Lyserg
reached out to secure his dressing robe more snugly around her, particularly at
the front, so as not to give him a very generous view of things he shouldn't be
allowed to see. Glancing at the blanket, he realized he could probably make do
without it, and so, removing it from his body, he spread it all over hers,
careful to cover everything. He smiled with satisfaction after that particular
deed was done, mentally patting himself on the back.
He continued to gaze at her long after he did that. She looked quite the angel
when asleep...and even when awake, he noted with a slight smile. A silvery-blue
haired angel with beautiful ruby red eyes...an angel who'd willingly given up
her wings just so she could come down to earth and be the salvation for all
human beings...he sighed, wondering why in the world he was suddenly being so
poetic. Reaching out once again, he smoothened the stray hairs on her face, all
the while remembering some of the events that took place right before the two of
then went to bed.
When she had suggested earlier that the two of them sleep in his bed, beside
EACH OTHER, he was...quite scandalized, to say the least. Even though he knew it
was very uncalled for...still, the feeling was there. He knew, of course, that
she was merely saying that they sleep on the same bed for the sole purpose of
sleeping--of resting, and not for anything else. But...the underlying meaning
behind it was something that was probably going to haunt him for the rest of his
bachelorhood...IF he does remain a bachelor for a long time, that is.
Anyway, he had violently protested against it, and even went as far as to
enumerate the multitude of reasons as to why they shouldn't even consider it.
But of course, Jeanne wasn't the former X-LAWS leader for nothing. While he was
delivering his discourse, she, as well had begun to list the grounds as to why
Lyserg should not give up his four-poster, the main ones being that it was
his four-poster bed, his room, and his money that paid for all
of it. He had pointed out, though, that it wasn't him who paid for the hotel,
but the agency. Unruffled, Jeanne had countered this by saying: be that as it
may, it was still his work that paid for it, and that should be reason
enough.
Needless to say, the whole bed issue had evolved from a mere generous offer to a
full-blown argument, owing to the fact that both of them were too nice and too
polite for their own good, and neither of them wished to see the other
wanting even just a diminutive fraction.
The argument had gone for long, and they hadn't stopped...not even when room
service had delivered their first class dinner on the house. They didn't even get
the chance to pause and wonder why the heck the hotel was giving away free
dinners...but, now that Lyserg thought about it, there was something rather
strange about that...as strange as the fact that the hotel suddenly had no more
vacancies on such a short notice...he shook his head and exhaled. No point in
worrying about something like that. If the hotel wanted to give them a free
dinner, that was perfectly fine.
Getting back to the subject...even all throughout dinner, when he and Jeanne had
sat down to eat, still, the two of them had gone on and on and discussed the bed
issue. It was a half-and-half kind of an argument. However, the real verdict had come
up
when, sometime right after dinner, Jeanne had brought upon him an ultimatum:
either he sleeps on the bed beside her, or she was going back to the missionary
house wearing his clothes...and at which point, the phone in the room had
started to ring...it was Sister Vicki, calling in behalf of Marco, who,
according to the nun, was already in a pretty much extremely panicked state, due
to the fact that neither Jeanne nor Sister Sarah were back yet. Jeanne had
proceeded to telling the nun that she will be returning in the morning, and to assure
Marco that she was safe, and that she'd booked a hotel room for the night.
Anyway, after that phone call, she had given Lyserg a look, and the young
Englishman had grudgingly slipped out of his hotel robe, undone
the top buttons of his sleeping shirt, and stepped into the right side of the
bed. Jeanne certainly knew how to manipulate him...and that thing with Marco had
been the final straw. He wasn't ready to be fed to the vultures as of yet, and
knew as much as she did that if Marco sees her wearing his clothes at the wee
hours of the night, the man would freak out and all hell would probably break
loose...after all, Lyserg was the one who had pointed it out to her earlier.
Right after he had caved in to her demands, Jeanne herself had proceeded to
taking off the dressing robe...but, realizing that it would seem more than a
little bit indecent if she wore just Lyserg's pants and shirt to bed--for they were
quite loose, most especially at the front--she had decided against it, and the
robe had remained when she lay down on the left side, with her back turned to
him.
Jeanne gave a long sigh, causing Lyserg's thoughts to be broken off abruptly,
which was just as well. His eyelids were getting heavy. Smoothing out her hair
one last time, he touched her cheek affectionately, smiling softly to himself as
he retracted his hand, resting it underneath his head.
At the back of his mind, though, he wondered: was it just his imagination...or
did Jeanne's face feel somewhat...hot?
Shaking those thoughts away, he sighed and closed his eyes. In a few minutes, he
fell asleep.
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Hnnn.....aargh!"
Lyserg awoke with a start as he felt the bed shaking beneath him. He sat up in
alarm, wondering where the shaking was coming from. He glanced fleetingly about,
his eyes resting on the clock for a bit as he noted the time: it was half past
one in the morning. Then, his eyes moved once again...and paused at the young
woman asleep beside him.
Jeanne's whole face was red, and the color went all the way down to her
neck...and probably all over her body as well, Lyserg realized with panic as he
reached forward and felt her forehead with his hands. He fought the urge to
groan out loud as he retracted his hand quickly. She felt very, very, very, VERY
hot...and she was trembling. She was the one who was causing the bed to
shake. She was shivering with so much force that he wondered whether it was only
actually a mere fever, or...something much more. Something much worse. He
briefly inspected the warming pan, thankful that it was comfortably near her
side of the bed, yet wondering at the back of his mind if it was actually doing
any good, for she was still shivering uncontrollably.
Sighing with frustration, Lyserg placed his head in his hands, mentally berating
himself for allowing Jeanne to fall over the Grand Canal along with him,
allowing her to get wet in the rain, and allowing her to soak for as long as she
did in wet clothing. If he had been a little more careful, a little more
quick-thinking, a little more practical, and less hesitant and cowardly,
then...perhaps none of this would have happened. Jeanne wouldn't be sick right
now. She wouldn't be shivering as hard as she was right now. Her body
temperature wouldn't be as high as it obviously was right now...
"...Morphin?" The pink fairy spirit fluttered in front of him, interrupting his
thoughts. She gracefully flew above the silvery-blue haired maiden's shivering
form and examined her thoughtfully, before flashing her master a slightly
questioning look. "She's sick. She's got a...a fever...no wait, actually, I
don't know what she's got. But...she's very hot and she's shivering...it might
be more than a simple fever...can you make an ice pack or something?" He asked
her hopefully.
Morphin nodded her head and resumed to do what her master had asked. In a matter
of seconds, a makeshift furyoku ice pack materialized from out of nowhere and
landed gently on Jeanne's forehead. "Thank you," Lyserg smiled at his spirit
gratefully, all the while still furiously racking his brain for ideas as he
continued to search around for anything else that can help alleviate
Jeanne's...fever, or whatever the hell it may be.
Whenever Lyserg had a fever, or if he had somehow been afflicted with a similar
illness, he usually just lets it pass for about a couple of days without taking
any sort of medicine whatsoever. The only thing he did was drink a couple of
glasses of water and sleep for a certain number of hours at a time--and it
usually worked for him, cured his sickness. Usually.
But, Jeanne's condition...he could tell that this was no ordinary fever. She was
WAY too hot, and she was shivering WAY too much. He wondered if her extremely
high body temperature somehow had to do with the fact that a certain long-haired
bastard managed to burn her almost to the point of death around a decade ago.
More correctly, for the second time that day, he wondered if it WAS actually a
fever...or something else entirely...
"L...L...Lyserg...?" He raised his head up as a pair of ruby eyes slowly opened
weakly, her teeth chattering. "I...I'm...I'm..." she shivered.
Lyserg rushed to her side in an instant, wrapping the thick blanket around her
even more snugly. "Don't try to talk," he whispered, tucking a stray lock of
hair behind her ear and adjusting the furyoku ice pack on top of her forehead,
wincing a little bit as his fingers touched her extremely feverish skin. He
couldn't tell what her body temperature was...but from the heat on her skin, he
wouldn't be surprised if she ended up bursting into flames anytime soon. Once
again, he wondered if the warming pan was doing her any good...but then, he
realized that thinking even further wouldn't do anything, wouldn't be any help
at all...and would probably only end up prolonging Jeanne's sickness...and her
pain.
...He didn't want to give her any more pain. Finally coming up with something
resembling a concrete plan, he rose up, determined to ask for all the help he
could get as fast as he can--any help at all--even if it kills him.
He had only taken two steps away from the bed when a burning, trembling hand
clamped on his wrist. "L...L...Ly...Lyserg...w...where a...are y...you
g...g...going?" She asked in between chattering teeth. "D...d...don...don't
l...leave m...me..." her eyes filled with tears. "P...please..."
Sighing helplessly, Lyserg sat back down on the bed and held both
of her hands tightly in his. "I'll be back," he assured her with a faint smile.
"I'm just going out for a while to ask for help. It won't take long, I promise,"
he vowed, wondering, at the back of his mind, if the hotel's resident doctor was
available round-the-clock. If he wasn't, then...he'll just have to think
of another option. Either way, he intended to go back to Jeanne with help--fast.
"P...p...pl...please, c...come b...back s...soon," She managed to reply weakly.
"I...I...n...need you here...w...with m...me..."
"I will." Lyserg murmured with reassurance, pressing a soft kiss to her fingers
to seal the promise. "I will."
Reluctantly, he let go of her hands, stood up, and crossed over the room towards
the door. "...I'll be right back," he told her firmly as he walked out,
promising himself that, if the doctor wasn't around, he was going to enlist
Caesar's help. And he was going to enlist Luc's help, as well--even if it means
disturbing and angering the other detective enough to get himself forcibly
thrown against the wall.
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Caesar?" Lyserg glanced around impatiently as he knocked on the door. He had
just returned from the hotel's resident doctor's supposed clinic, and just as he
had surmised, the doctor wasn't around. He had passed by Luc's room a couple of
minutes ago, and surprisingly, managed to enlist the other detective's help
without so much as a protest. After he briefed Luc regarding Jeanne's
situation, the light-brown haired detective told Lyserg to go on ahead; he
was going to follow shortly. Lyserg had obliged gratefully, and then,
proceeded to ask for Caesar's help as well.
He was about to knock again when the door opened and out came a very
alert-looking Caesar. "You've got to help me," Lyserg began. "Jeanne's--"
"--Ill? I know." The red-haired detective gave a brief nod. He closed the door
to his room, locking it. "I felt you prowling about. You were broadcasting like
a radio antenna, if you get my meaning," Caesar said dryly. "...Anyhow, we
should go. You've called Luc as well, haven't you?"
Lyserg nodded as the two of them walked in an increasingly brisk speed. "He said
he'll be coming along." Finally, they reached the door of his room.
"Good." Caesar smiled with satisfaction as he followed the green-haired young
man inside. "I think his so-called 'secret' companion will be coming with him. I
doubt if she'll be able to stand not helping knowing that one of her missionary
volunteers is...GOOD LORD!" He exclaimed as the pink fairy spirit flew over
their heads frantically. "...Tinker Bell, what's wrong?" He asked the spirit with
concern.
Morphin frowned at the mistake in her name, but, obviously ignoring it, she flew
towards Jeanne and circled the ice pack on top of the maiden's forehead. Or
rather...the remains of what had been the makeshift furyoku ice pack. "It
MELTED?" Lyserg exclaimed with shock as he rushed over in a flash on the bed
beside the young woman. "Morphin, let's make another one--"
"Forget it. That won't do any good." Caesar interrupted, sitting down beside the
vanity table. "She's literally burning up. SEVERELY burning up."
"But...why won't the ice pack do any good?" Lyserg wondered, his brows
furrowing. "I mean, it should at least make her temperature go down--"
"It won't, believe me." The red-haired detective told him firmly. "If we only
had a thermometer somewhere around here, we might be able to...oh! I forgot, I
have one right here!" He felt his pajama pants pockets, and then pulled out the
said instrument with a flourish. "Good thing I always take this along. It's not really necessary, but at least we'll
be able to know exactly how high her fever is." He stood up and handed the
thermometer to his friend.
Lyserg took it gratefully, tapped Jeanne's shoulder gently, and lifted her up,
setting the thermometer and placing it under her arm, underneath the clothes.
"Wait...are you telling me that this is just a fever?"
"Yup. Among other things." Caesar responded. "Her fever's the worst, though. I
can't tell for sure, but I do believe she's also got--" he paused abruptly as
Jeanne gave a loud sneeze, then a cough. "--those. Cough and colds. I don't know
much about these things, so this is all based only on what I feel from
her." He sighed. "It'd be better if we had a doctor, or someone to that
effect...are you sure the doctor wasn't around?"
"Extremely sure." Lyserg answered without looking at him. He continued to gaze
at Jeanne with a very worried frown on his face. "I called several times. I even
asked the receptionist at the ground level. The doctor doesn't sleep around
here, it seems." He sighed helplessly. "Caesar, what am I going to do? This is
all my fault. If I hadn't invited her to go on that gondola ride..." He stood up
and paced around. "I don't know anything about illnesses. I don't take medicine
when I'm sick, so I haven't got any of those things with me. Do YOU have
medicine?" He asked Caesar hopefully as he continued to pace and look around.
"What am I supposed to--"
"Lyserg," Caesar exhaled. "Calm down. Worrying won't help Miss Jeanne. And
you're confusing Tinker Bell," he added with a slight smile. "...Ouch!" He
groaned as the pink fairy spirit lightly hit his cheek. "Alright,
alright...Morphin," he said with emphasis, giving the spirit a look. "Sit DOWN,
will you?" He urged the other man. "You're making me dizzy."
Lyserg reluctantly sat back down on the bed and resumed looking at Jeanne
worriedly. He reached over and felt her forehead again, wincing at the heat.
"She's so darn hot," he murmured. "And she's still shivering so hard. What the
hell am I going to do?" He stood up and started pacing back and forth once
again.
"L...Ly...serg..."
"JEANNE!" At once, Lyserg was on the bed again, hovering over the silvery-haired
maiden. "How are you feeling? I'm sorry, that's a stupid question, I mean,
you must
feel like hell right now and--"
"Y...you're...h...here..." Her eyes opened slightly, and a weak smile tugged at
the corner of her lips. "Y...you...c...c...came...b...back..."
He gave an indrawn breath. "Of course I came back. I told you I would, didn't
I?" He whispered, cradling both of her hands tightly in his. "I'm sorry, there
was no doctor around..."
"It's...f...fine..." She managed, very weakly.
"You...d...did....everything....you....c...could..."
"Maybe we should take her down to a hospital," Caesar suggested, genuine concern
written on his whole face.
Jeanne shook her head vigorously. "N...no. No
ho...hospital...can't...g...go...th...there," her teeth chattered.
"M...Mar...co...L...Lyserg..." she shook her head again.
"Oh." Caesar nodded with understanding, raising an eyebrow at Lyserg. "You don't
want Marco killing Lyserg, and he certainly will if we take you to a hospital.
Okay...then we won't." He smiled slightly as, satisfied with his answer, the young woman closed
her eyes again. "Let's just wait for Luc. I think he and Sister Sarah are--" A
knock sounded on the door. "--here. Don't move," he told Lyserg firmly. "I'll
get it." He stood up and swung open the door.
Luc stepped in, eyebrow slightly raised, hands on hips. "Took you long enough,"
he said curtly. His hazel-green eyes studied the whole room critically as he
walked in, before they paused on the bed, particularly, its two current
occupants.
Caesar snorted as he sat back down. "YOU'RE one to talk. You were supposed to be here TEN minutes
ago."
"Hmph." Luc huffed. Then, turning to Lyserg, he asked in a slightly softer tone,
"...How is she?"
"Delirious. And burning up," Lyserg answered without taking his eyes off of
Jeanne. "...And I don't know what to do," he added helplessly.
"...Have you checked her temperature?" A familiar female voice inquired. Caesar
looked up as the silvery-golden haired nun rushed inside the room and headed
straight to Jeanne's bedside. She was wearing the maroon dressing robe, courtesy
of the hotel. She sat down on the bed, reached over, and felt the young woman's
forehead. "...Yes, she's quite hot, alright." She frowned, then glanced at Lyserg
with a sympathetic smile on her face. "Lyserg, I'm going to have to ask you to
let go of her hands. I need to check her pulse."
Lyserg nodded and reluctantly obeyed, watching Sister Sarah as she checked
Jeanne all over, timed her heartbeat, and thoroughly examined her the way a
seasoned nurse would. "There's a thermometer under her arm, Sister. I think it's
just about through reading her temperature."
"Excellent." The blonde nun gently raised Jeanne's arm up, took the thermometer,
and examined it thoughtfully. "...A hundred and three. That's quite high." She
frowned with concern. "Let's see..." She opened her purse in search for
something.
Across the room, Luc was observing this whole scene, a faint smile tugging at
the corners of his mouth. Meanwhile, right beside him, Caesar was gazing at the
nun with an expression of astonishment on his face.
"Sister...pardon me for asking, but I thought you were a nun, not a nurse or a
doctor," he commented.
Sister Sarah paused to smile briefly in Caesar's direction. "I am a nun.
But I was once a medical student...before I received my calling, that is." She
answered softly as she gracefully held out a bottle of extra-strength
antibiotics to Lyserg. "I'll give this to you. Please assist her in drinking the
medicine, Lyserg." She placed the bottle in the detective's hand.
"Thank you." Lyserg smiled gratefully at the nun. Then, he opened the bottle,
took a pill, and tapped Jeanne's shoulder gently.
The young woman slowly opened her eyes. "L...Ly...serg...?
Sis...ter...Sa...rah...what...are....you...?" She paused abruptly on a cough.
"Sister Sarah gave me some medicine for you," Lyserg whispered as he gently
helped her sit up. He took a glass of water from the bedside and held out the
pill to her. "Drink up," he instructed gently, placing the pill against her
lips. She opened her mouth and took the pill gratefully, and drank.
"Th...thank...you..." Jeanne smiled at Lyserg as he helped her lie back down
again. "S...sister...thank...you...as...well..." Her eyes fluttered close once
more. After about fifteen minutes, she fell asleep...this time, no longer
shivering as uncontrollably as before.
Lyserg continued to gaze at her long after she had drifted off, his face
illustrating an expression of slight anxiety and...something else. "You're
welcome, Jeanne..." he uttered, barely above a whisper, even though he knew she
couldn't possibly hear him in her sleep. He clasped both of her hands tightly
against his, like he never wanted to let go.
Sister Sarah watched them the entire time, with a soft, fond smile on her lips,
her heart visibly warmed as she realized how much the young detective cared for the
silvery-blue haired young woman...and how that feeling was very obviously
reciprocated. Then, sighing, she turned her head slightly to gaze at Luc and
Caesar.
The two men were taking turns appraising each other critically, while at the
same time, exchanging a couple of words. It would seem that they had started
this mini-verbal battle from the moment they became aware that Jeanne's
condition was already somewhere along the lines of okay.
Currently, Luc was glaring daggers at Caesar as the redhead continuously fired
embarrassing questions at him without missing a beat.
"Were you both AWAKE when Lyserg knocked at your door?"
"Dammit, OF COURSE we WERE!"
"And WHERE were you SLEEPING?"
"On the COUCH!"
"OH, REALLY?"
"You think I'm LYING?!?"
"Are you SURE you WEREN'T taking advantage of HER?"
"WHY in BLOODY BLAZES would I do THAT? I am NOT a PERVERT like YOU, Silverberg!"
Luc paused. "And besides, I happen to have a lot of self-control..." The second
the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.
"Oh, REALLY? So...are YOU admitting that you had PLANS to take advantage of
HER?"
"No, of COURSE NOT, DAMMIT!" Luc exhaled. "Unlike YOU, Silverberg, I happen to
have this thing called HONOR. And I also happen to have this thing called
RESPECT. For WOMEN," he emphasized. "I am NOT the abusive, masochistic,
psychopathic lunatic that YOU ARE."
"Are you TRYING to ANNOY me?" This time, Caesar stood up and glared darkly.
Luc smirked. "That depends. Am I succeeding?"
"WHY YOU--"
"Could you two PLEASE shut the FREAKING HELL UP?" Lyserg hissed, glowering at
his two detective friends. "Jeanne is SICK. Or have you forgotten that in your
hastiness to get into each other's THROATS?" He demanded.
Luc and Caesar glared at each other one last time. "He started it," they
muttered in unison.
Lyserg exhaled. "It doesn't matter who started it. Just...stop it right now,
please?"
Luc huffed. "Yeah. Alright." He looked over at Sister Sarah and flashed her an
apologetic look.
"Yeah." Caesar echoed, albeit grudgingly.
"Good." Lyserg breathed a sigh of relief. "Sister Sarah...I'm glad you're here,"
he said sincerely. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't know what to do,
so...thank you."
The nun gave Luc an amused smile before turning to Lyserg. "You're very
welcome," She said softly. "...God willing, her fever should break by early
sunrise, so don't worry. Just continue watching over her until then." She smiled
once again. Then, standing up, she leaned over and kissed Jeanne gently on the
forehead. "Take good care of her," she told Lyserg, referring, more correctly,
to a whole lot more than just Jeanne's fever.
"I will." The green-haired young detective promised.
"I'll be going now." Sister Sarah took her purse, nodded at Lyserg, smiled at
Morphin, and walked towards the door. She glanced briefly at Caesar, then, at
Luc, her eyes lingering much more than they should at the light-brown haired
detective. "I'll see you all in the morning." She murmured softly before she
walked out.
Luc stared in the direction she disappeared to, and then, he shook his head
and exhaled. "...Well. I guess Caesar and I had better go, too." He turned to
the red-haired man and pulled him along by the neck of his shirt forcefully.
"Come on, Silverberg." He started to drag the other man out.
"Ouch, ouch, OUCH! Let GO of ME!" Caesar groaned, and struggled. He smacked his
hand across his captor's face and managed to crawl out of his grasp. "Lyserg,
one little piece of advice before I leave." He walked towards his friend.
Luc rolled his eyes with exasperation. "Make it quick, Silverberg. I'm TIRED."
"So go to your room. Don't wait up for me."
"I'm sleeping in YOUR room for the rest of the night...dawn, rather." He gave
Caesar a warning look. "And you can't complain."
"Yes, I CAN!" Caesar said defensively. "Sleep with Sister Sarah! I don't wanna
sleep with you!"
"Well, gee," Luc said sarcastically, "...it doesn't look like you have much of a
choice now, do you?" He smirked with satisfaction.
"Hmph." Caesar glared. "Anyway, Lyserg..." he gave his friend a meaningful look.
"If in case Miss Jeanne remains delirious and shivering even after that
medicine, here's what you can do..." he bent down and whispered something in
Lyserg's ear.
Lyserg was blushing beet red when Caesar finally finished. "Will THAT really
work?" He wondered out loud.
Caesar grinned confidently. "Oh, it will, trust me."
Luc exhaled. "Are you done? Good. Let's go." He walked out the door. "We'll be
seeing you."
Caesar mumbled something incoherent under his breath. "Yes, boss." He answered
grudgingly, following the other man outside. "We'll see you in the morning,
Lyserg, Tinker Bell," he smiled sweetly up at Morphin.
"Yeah. And thanks." Lyserg called out softly to the two men's retreating backs.
*~*~*~*~*~*
About an hour after he had managed to fall asleep once more, Lyserg was again
roused as a trembling hand clutched tightly on his arm. Yawning, he reluctantly
shook himself awake, rolling over and gazing at Jeanne's face, and touching the
hand that was holding on to him. "...What is it?" His voice was still slightly
husky from sleep.
Although her face had lost its sheer redness from earlier, she was still a
little pink, and still shivering quite a bit. "...I'm cold," she managed in a
breathless whisper. "Lyserg...I feel so cold...and I'm so dizzy and I--" her
words were interrupted by a strong cough. "Dear Lord...I'm dying," she choked
out.
"You are NOT dying," He assured her firmly, reaching over to feel her
forehead. She was still a little hot, although not to the point that she would
be bursting into flames at any second. At least the medicine was doing a bit of
good, he thought with relief. He wondered how long, exactly, before the
antibiotic takes effect completely. Sister Sarah had said that the fever would
break by sunrise...what time was sunrise?
"Lyserg..." Jeanne's shaking hand had moved to his face. She was still shaking
so hard...not as hard as earlier, but it was still enough to send him into
panic. No one was supposed to shiver this much, even in a fever. It wasn't
humanely possible. It wasn't normal...Lyserg paused abruptly at that thought.
...She isn't exactly normal, though, is she? She's a shaman. She's Iron
Maiden Jeanne. That means...she can't be completely cured through normal human
methods.
So what am I supposed to do...?
You're a shaman as well, aren't you? A voice inside his head reminded
him. You should be able to figure -that- out.
I should...?
Yes, you should.
...Furyoku. Lyserg couldn't believe he hadn't seen it earlier: the answer
had been staring at him right in the face. The makeshift umbrella, the makeshift
ice pack, Morphin...his spiritual power. Furyoku was life. Furyoku was strength,
and strength is what Jeanne needs right now.
He could transfer some of the furyoku from his body to Jeanne's...but how? He
wasn't a doctor like Faust...and Jeanne needed plenty of strength, so a mere
hand-over-the-body thing wouldn't do any good.
So...how?
And suddenly, Caesar's earlier advice chose that time to invade his head.
"If in case Miss Jeanne remains delirious and shivering even after that
medicine, here's what you can do..."
Lyserg had no indecision. Immoral or not, embarrassment notwithstanding, he had
no other option. This was the best way to heal her completely. The
only way.
"...Wrap your arms around her and transfer your body heat to hers."
And so...he did.
To his relief, the silvery-blue haired maiden sighed contentedly as she moved
closer towards his warm embrace. She had finally stopped shivering.
Finally.
"Lyserg...thank...you..." That was the last thing she said right before her eyes
drifted close. She fell into a peaceful sleep, nestled in the arms of the one
man who, no matter what happens, would take care of her...and protect her--to
the ends of the earth.
TSUZUKU.
End notes:
Just an fyi for everyone: Caesar is 24 years old, Luc is 25, and Sister Sarah is
also 25. Lyserg is the youngest among all the detectives in the agency.^^
Uhm...as I said in the previous chapter, the hotel is half old-fashioned, half
modern, so...the doctor couldn't have been called using the telephone in the
room. Anyway, I added that bit just in case anyone asks.^^
And also, I'm abiding by what Yoh usually says (in the anime): only good people
can see spirits. Granted, normal good people can't see spirits, but...Luc and Caesar
aren't exactly normal, and Sister Sarah is a holy servant. So...yeah. Just in
case anyone asks.^^
A hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit...this is equal to forty-two degrees
Celsius, just in case anyone was wondering. It's the reading right at the very
end of the body thermometer here in my house.^^
And lastly...Caesar's advice. Yes, that does work...on occasion. And so does
medicine.^^
Yes, here I go again. Reviews!*points at the button on the left* Go!