"Fevered Whispers"
Kate lightly dozed on and off for the next several hours, but was always acutely aware of every brutal tremor and laboured breath that Jack took. She was awoken by an awareness that something missing, a feeling of disorientation, but couldn't immediately identify what was different. After a few moments of trying to clear her foggy brain she realized that Jack was no longer shivering
Relieved that he seemed to be sleeping quietly, Kate reluctantly disengaged her body from his and pushed herself to her feet. Carefully stepping over Jack, Kate stretched her stiff muscles and added a few more boards to the fire. Satisfied that the wood had caught, she reached for the discarded water bottle. Seeing that the rain was still coming down hard, she drained the remaining lukewarm water and gingerly shuffled to the mouth of the cave to refill it with rainwater.
She reached the cave opening and shivered as a gust of cool, damp wind swirled around her. Attempting to stay dry, she stretched out her arm and held the bottle under a stream of rainwater cascading down a groove in the rock face. As she waited for the bottle to fill, Kate puffed out a little breath, causing the loose strands of her hair to flutter momentarily. She cast a concerned look out at the sky, discouraged by the oppressive clouds and incessant downpour. They hadn't been gone long enough for anyone to worry about them, and even if they had been missed, she knew the others wouldn't come looking for them in the rain. But still, she hoped that someone, anyone, would find them … Jack was in no shape to make it back to camp, even if the weather was clear, and she would not … could not, leave Jack alone. So in effect, unless Jack made a sudden recovery, they were stranded here for likely a few more days or until someone came along and found them. But at least Jack seemed to be better, she thought with a relieved sigh. He wasn't shivering anymore and though he was still feverish, surely he was through the worst of it now, she thought, and she capped off the now full bottle.
She had just come back into the cave, when she saw Jack stagger to his feet. Her quick burst of relief at finding him conscious and alert soon faded, though.
"Jack? How are you feeling?" she asked as she moved quickly to his side.
"What?" he asked in confusion, and turned to look at her with blank, fever-bright eyes.
Kate felt her optimism take a hit at the evidence that he was still so very ill. "Jack, I think you should sit down. You need to rest," she said a bit more forcefully, trying to push the bottle of water into his hands.
He shook his head in a slow, woozy manner and pushed her hands away, knocking the water bottle to the ground. "No. What are you talking about?" he mumbled, his voice hollow. "I have a meeting with the Chief of Staff and the hospital board … with my father … the medical review about Beth," he rasped out disjointedly, and tried to walk away, swaying heavily on his feet.
"Jack? What are you talking about?" she frowned, fighting against the rising panic she felt, witnessing him in this delusional state of mind. She put her hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention. "Who's Beth?"
She groaned inwardly at the scorching heat of his skin under her fingertips. He cast drunken looks around the cave, as if looking for something. "Where?" he mumbled, his words thick and barely audible, "Where is it?"
"Jack, stop it," she said, a note of pleading creeping into her voice. She reached out and grabbed his arm, insisting, "You're sick. You have a fever."
He shook her off him, the erratic motion sending her stumbling back a few steps. "I have to be there. Do you think I want to? Do you? But I have to be there. I owe him," he muttered hoarsely, looking at her with wild, feverish eyes. He staggered a few steps, weaving dangerously close to the fire.
Kate, her heart in her throat, lunged after him. "Damn it, Jack! Listen to me!" She pushed herself in front of him, determined to hold her ground. "There is no meeting! No hospital. We crashed here, remember?"
He blinked at her before covering his eyes with his hand, as if in pain. "I gave my word," he insisted, his voiced filled with despair as he took a halting step forward. "Have to ……. gave my word," he whispered in confusion. He gripped his head in agony and began to fall forward as a low groan was ripped from his throat.
"Jack!" Kate gasped in alarm as she tried to break his fall. But her hands, finding no purchase on his bare skin, slid down his chest. She felt his knees give out and his body sag heavily against her. Unable to support his weight, she stumbled and fell backwards as he collapsed on top of her. She winced as her elbow connected with the ground painfully and she had her breath knocked out of her. She tried to sit up but found that she was still pinned beneath Jack's body, the weight of his solid frame holding her down. He braced his hands on either side of her head and tried to push himself up, but his arms refused to co-operate and buckled under the strain. With a muttered curse, he slumped back down on her and struggled for breath.
"Jack? Are you hurt?" she asked with alarm, running her hands over his shoulders, his arms.
"Damn it! I can barely move …" he groaned in dismay, attempting to shift his body. "What's going on?"
She managed to gently grip his shoulders and roll him onto his back, where he lay sprawled weakly on the ground with his eyes squeezed shut. "You have a fever. A high one, I think."
He opened his eyes and grimace in pain at the brightness of the fire. Shifting his eyes to where Kate hovered over him, he took note of her elbow. He tried to push himself up into a sitting position, saying, "You're bleeding, Kate. Here, let me clean it .."
Kate interrupted him with a shake of her head. "It's fine, Jack. You need to rest," she said, breathing a sigh of relief that he seemed aware of his surroundings again.
"But … " his protest was cut short when a blinding pain arced through his skull, causing him to grab his head. A choked moan escaped before he could stop it; the pain behind his eyes so intense that he could barely catch his breath.
"Jack? What's wrong?" she asked in confusion. When he made no response she lightly gripped his forearms, trying to move them so she could see what was wrong.
He waited until the pain lessened enough that he could breathe again, before saying hoarsely, "Eyes … pain … behind my eyes." Gritting his teeth against the throbbing in his head, he fisted his hands, pressing them tightly to his eyes.
Feeling a trickle of damp air sweep past them, she wrapped her arm under his shoulders and coaxed him to get up. "Come on, Jack," she encouraged. "Let's move back to the other side of the fire."
He nodded absently and allowed her to help him stand. Leaning heavily on Kate, as his legs were still reluctant to support him, they wobbled back to where their bags were. She awkwardly eased him down, and gently lowered him back so that his head was cushioned on her pack. She retrieved the bottle from where it had rolled, and muttered a thanks that the lid had been on tightly enough for none of it to have spilled.
Unscrewing the cap, she wiped the mouth of the bottle with the sleeve of her shirt and urged Jack to take a drink. When he shook his head tightly, she snorted in frustration, saying, "Jack, you need to drink some water … just a little bit, okay?"
He reluctantly lowered his hands and reached for the bottle. He managed a few sips before the next wave of pain reverberated through his skull.
Grabbing the bottle from his suddenly slack hands, Kate could only watch helplessly as his body contorted with pain. She watched as he fought to regain his breath, the choked gasps reminding her of Shannon's asthma attacks. She felt her own breathing quicken as her instinct to run for help fought to take over. But there was no help. The only doctor on the island was the one suffering, and God help him, she was all he had right now.
He had his hands covering his eyes, the heels of his palms pressing hard against the pain, and something about that tickled the recesses of her memory. Her mom used to do that when Kate was a little girl. She would clutch her face and turn out the lights. Her dad had explained that it was because of her mother's headaches … migraines, she would later realize.
Kate felt a trickle of calm enter into her. She knew how to help with migraines; maybe the same care could help with Jack's pain?
She got up and quickly retrieved her now dry tank top, and moved to the entrance of the cave where she soaked it in the coldwater still sheeting off the side of the rocky hill. She wrung it out lightly, and hurried back into the depths of the cave. Kneeling next to Jack, she rested a soft hand on his chest and soothingly said, "this might help, but it will probably be a bit cold at first."
Jack, breathing short, rigidly measured breaths, swallowed hard and nodded briefly. He lowered his hands, but kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut. She lightly draped the cold, damp cotton over his face, covering his eyes. He gasped at the cold, but didn't try to fight it.
Scooting up and over a bit, she gently transferred his head from her bag to her lap. With delicate pressure she massaged his head; from his temples to the base of his skull, working in the slow, even circles that had often helped her mom sleep. Their doctor once said that while the massage likely didn't help the pain, the touch itself was soothing to the soul, and consequently, helped the rest of the person. So she gently rubbed his head, her fingers brushing over the velvety texture of his closely cropped hair, and the softness of the nape of his neck.
She felt his breathing gradually change … the rhythm shifting in time to her slow and steady movements. Folding the edges of the wet fabric so that only his eyes were covered, she softly massaged his face. With gentle pressure, she swept her fingers in small circles across his forehead and temples, lingering for a moment over the fading scratches on his cheek, reminders of the crash that brought them all here. She continued to massage his face, moving down to his jaw, and then to the spot right behind his earlobe. She wasn't surprised by the tension she found there; anyone who carried as much responsibility on his shoulders as Jack did, was bound to be a jaw clencher, she thought wryly.
She moved to adjust the cloth to better cover her eyes, when much to her dismay, she discovered that the cloth was already warm from his fevered skin. Slowly, so as not to disturb him, she reached out for the bottle of water.
"I'm just going to take this off for a moment, Jack," she said, warning him against the light. But when she lifted the fabric off, she saw that his eyes were closed, whether in sleep or unconsciousness, she didn't know. She quickly uncapped the bottle and after taking a quick swig herself, doused the cloth with the cool water. She squeezed out the excess before laying it back over his eyes again.
So, for a little while, she sat with his head cradled in her lap and resumed the massage whenever she saw him grimace from a new wave of pain.
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She was starting to doze off, when a noise brought her back fully alert. It was a low, groaning sound, the kind a wounded animal would make. It took a second for her to realize that it was coming from Jack. Resettling his head on her bag, she moved to his side.
"Jack?" she whispered, and when she gently shook him, her alarm grew at how hot he felt … much hotter than before.
"No, Jack, you can't get sicker," she said with panic. "You need to get over this. You're not allowed to get sicker!" she chanted desperately. His moan changed to a strangled gasp of pain and he drew his arms protectively across his chest, twisting his body restlessly.
"Jack? What's wrong?" she asked, choking back a sob of fear. It seemed like every time she thought he was getting better, he got worse instead.
Oblivious to Kate's desperate plea, Jack clenched his jaw in agony and breathed short, gasping breathes through his teeth. She tried to sooth him, but his body was caught in the throes of some excruciating internal attack.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely more than a tortured murmur.
"Jack, it's okay. You're going to be okay," she said, rubbing his hand reassuringly.
With a quickness that surprised her, he caught her hand in his. Looking up at his face, she saw that the cloth over his eyes had fallen off during his tossing and turning, and he was looking at her with eyes so full of misery, pain and sheer grief, that it sent shivers down her spine.
"Sarah," he rasped hoarsely, gripping her hand fiercely. "I'm sorry … my fault …. I never … should have …" his words trailed off into a low growl of pain and he gripped his shoulder, as if reeling from an unseen punch.
Kate, still shaken by the sight of those haunted, tormented eyes, barely noticed when his grip slackened and his hand fell away from hers. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, Jack was getting worse. And the anguished apology to this mysterious Sarah, sounded terrifyingly like a deathbed plea for absolution.
Jack was sick … maybe even dying, and she couldn't do a damned thing to help him.
His eyes were closed again, but his breath was laboured and pained, his body writhing in agony from wounds she could not see.
She sat there in shock as the realization hit her that Jack may actually die. It was like when he'd been trapped in the cave in, but this time, there wasn't anything she could do to save him… there were no rocks to move or dirt to dig through. Only an invisible illness that was sucking the strength right out of him, and she was powerless to stop it, she thought numbly.
His hands were clenched into tight fists, and he mumbled incoherently. She didn't have to understand the words to hear the absolute desolation in them.
This couldn't happen, not again. She couldn't watch another person she cared about … was very likely falling in love with, she finally admitted, die, simply because they chose to stay and help her.
With a low moan of her own, she scrambled to her feet, and pressing her hand to her mouth, raced outside the cave in sheer panic. She slipped on the muddy ground and fell forward with a jarring thud, and lay crumpled on the ground in anguish and self-loathing. As the cold rain pelted her with Hell-born fury, she finally gave in to the sobs clogging her throat. Pulling her knees under her, she dug her fingers into the wet mud of the jungle floor and released the emotions she had been keeping locked up. Once the gates were thrown open, the sobs turned to screams of grief and terror, as she lay on the ground, muddy and scared, confused and heartbroken ...
Just an FYI, in case you're wondering, lol, Jack's Dengue Fever has now advanced to include the following symptoms
Severe headache
Pain behind the eye
Severe joint pain
Severe muscle pain
And the reason he is clutching his arms, chest, etc is because of the severity of the joint and muscle pain, where it actually feels like your bones are breaking. In fact Dengue fever was previously called 'break-bone fever' because of that pain.