Chapter Three

Wednesday 2:00am

Jack woke up, still sitting in the chair. His head ached, he was cold, and there was a pain in his chest he couldn't identify. Every breath he took was laboured. In short, he felt awful. He thought about calling Danny but couldn't figure out how to use the phone. Instead, Jack wove his way to his bed. He kept his sweats on and pulled the covers up. The pressure on his chest was less when he was on his back and he lay back and tried to sleep.

He woke up every two hours, coughing, or shivering , or just in pain. The phone rang but he was so out of it, he didn't know how to answer it. It just served to make his headache worse.

"Malone? Jack?" a familiar voice called.

Jack heard it and tried to make his body respond. He thought he was in bed; he was, in fact, on the floor. He thought he was speaking; he was, in fact, coughing.

"Jesus, Jack," the voice said, closer now.

Tyler Simpson stood in the bedroom doorway looking at Jack, face down on the carpet. He knelt quickly and turned him over. Jack's face was pale and covered in sweat. He was shivering and the collar of his sweatshirt was soaked through.

"Okay, buddy, I'm here," Tyler soothed. "Let's get you into bed,"

He helped Jack sit up, causing a fit of coughing. When it subsided, Tyler muscled Jack into bed.

"Jack, I'm getting a doctor. Tell me how you feel," Tyler said, looking at him closely.

"Chest hurts, hurts to breathe, headache, very cold." Jack reported, it short spurts of breath.

"Thank God that even when you're sick, Malone, you can still profile." Tyler joked.

He reached for the bedside phone and dialed a number.

"Yes?"

"I need you to come and see a friend." Tyler said into the phone.

"It may take a while because of the weather."

"He's in the Village, on Sullivan Street."

"Oh, okay, I'll call you when I'm at Washington Square Park."

"Use the cell number,"

"Right,"

"Bye,"

"Bye,"

Tyler hung up the phone and looked back at Jack. His eyes were open, his breath raspy. Tyler helped him into a sitting position and then put pillows behind his back.

"Better?"

Jack nodded, closing his eyes. Tyler went into the bathroom and put a washcloth under water. He wrung it and then came back into the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, he wiped Jack's face gently.

Yesterday, after Jack had spoken to him, Tyler had called back to the New York office and spoke to Van Doren. She had told him of the last six weeks. He had heard about Max Cassidy, but not about Jack's father. He knew about the divorce proceedings but not how bloody they had been. Tyler's schedule hadn't been changed. He changed it to come up and help his friend.

Tyler's phone rang.

"Simpson, "

"Okay, now what?"

"Brownstone, west side of the street, two blocks south. I'll be waiting."

"Sure,"

Tyler walked back to the front door and took Jack's keys, not wanting to go through picking the locks again. He headed downstairs and stood outside wishing he had a cigarette, although he hadn't smoked in five years. The snow was blowing and he was cold, but it was still pretty. He saw his friend and waved. The man crossed the quiet snow-filled street and walked in, stomping his feet of loose snow.

"Hi, Dave," he said, closing the doors behind him before leading the doctor up the stairs.

"Hi, Tyler,"

They arrived at the apartment and walked in. Tyler locked the door, set the keys in the dish and took Dave's coat and hat from him.

"It's cold in here," Dave remarked.

"Yeah," Tyler replied, leading him back to the bedroom.

Jack was pretty much the way Tyler left him, sitting up against the headboard, his eyes closed.

"I'm figuring pneumonia. He's overworked, freaked out on a scene two days ago, and hasn't slept much in the last few days. He said he's cold, his chest hurts, it hurts to breathe, and he has a headache." Tyler said.

"Well, just looking at him, I'd say that was a pretty good guess. The trick is how bad a case does he have? Can you make some coffee, Tyler? I might just get a cold myself." Dave said, putting his case down and getting to business.

"Sure," Tyler said, turning to walk out of the room.

"What's his name, by the way?"

"Jack, he's Jack," Tyler said over his shoulder, with a small smile.

"All right, Jack, let's get a temperature." Dave said, setting a thermometer in his mouth.

Jack woke up immediately and was confused.

"Jack, I'm Dave. A friend of Tyler's. I'm a doctor. I'm checking your temperature, okay? Just relax. I'm here to help you." Dave said, trying to calm his patient.

Jack yanked out the disposable thermometer and started to cough, a deep, painful cough. Tyler walked in quickly, and crawled across the bed. He pulled Jack into his arms and held him until the spasms stopped. He released him, Jack's eyes were open, but seemed unfocussed.

"Jack, you're okay, I'll be right back. Be nice to Dave," Tyler warned as he backed off the bed.

Jack looked at the stranger in front of him and then let his head relax back against the headboard. Again, Dave inserted a thermometer under Jack's tongue and checked his watch. Tyler walked in a few minutes later with a two mugs of coffee, handing one to Dave. He nodded his thanks and took a sip of the coffee, setting the mug on the bedside table, he removed the thermometer and shook his head. Jack had fallen into a light sleep.

"103.5; not good, Tyler, give me some background on him." Dave said, pulling out a notebook.

"Jack Malone, age forty seven. Eighteen he joined the Army. He was in for six years. I don't know much about his record except that he was in the Mid East and Africa for most of it. He came home, went to college, then grad school, which is where I met him. We were both psych majors at Columbia. He was number one in the class and I was number two. Second year in, we were visited by some fellas in suits. Two years later we were at Quantico together. He's scary, Dave; as a profiler, he's amazing, but it got into his head too much, so fifteen years ago, he switched to missing persons."

"Married?"

"Recently divorced, she's a lawyer and was transferred to Chicago. Moved the kids and told him not to come."

"Ouch, okay so he's a workaholic,"

"Yeah, basically, when he's working, it consumes him. But when it's over, there's a big down turn." Tyler remarked sipping his coffee.

"Okay, he needs major antibiotics. Here's some to get him started and here's the prescription. Full ten days, remember. No dairy products, no booze, you know the drill; it decreases the effects of the drugs. I'm also giving him some medicine to keep the coughing to a dull roar. Keep him hydrated, that vitamin water that's clear is pretty good. Obviously, keep his chest warm. I doubt he'll eat a thing but if you can, just broth. He'll sleep most of the time." Dave said, putting his kit back together.

"No, he dreams his cases. He figures things out while he's sleeping. He doesn't shut down." Tyler said as Jack woke up again.

Jack squinted at him.

"Yeah, I'm real," Tyler smiled, setting his coffee down.

Tyler walked into the bathroom and filled a glass with water. He took the pills that Dave gave him and handed them to Jack.

"Antibiotics and a non-cough drug, you have pneumonia, my friend." Tyler said, handing him the water.

Jack swallowed the pills dry and drank all of the water.

"Feels like Orson Welles is on my chest," Jack rasped.

"It's pneumonia, nothing else, but you need to keep elevated, drink fluids, and stay warm." Dave warned.

Jack fell asleep again as Tyler picked up their coffee mugs and walked out to the living room.

Dave set his case by the door and took his coffee, wanting to finish it before he headed out into the storm.

"He looks exhausted." Dave commented.

"I talked to his supervisor and she felt the same way. She gave him the rest of the week off." Tyler said, sipping the tepid coffee.

"What was the case he was working on?" Dave asked.

"Two little kids, kidnapped by their father. It was rough, the father killed the kids and then himself in front of Jack, according to the reports."

"Well, there you are. He's probably been fighting the pneumonia until the case was solved; setting him off, losing any reserves he had."

"Yeah, he called me yesterday, pretty upset. He doesn't have anyone he can talk to, so it all just stays inside."

"Until he gets dramatic, like this." Dave said, standing.

"I'll tell him he's being dramatic. He'll love that," Tyler said, laughing.

"I figure he has a temper, so sure, you tell him, when I'm not in the same room," Dave said, slipping his arms into his coat.

"Thanks again, Dave. Call me when you get home, so I know you're safe," Tyler said, unlocking the door.

"Sure thing," Dave replied.

Tyler relocked the door and put the prescriptions on the counter. He brought their coffee mugs to the kitchen. Setting Dave's in the sink, he refilled his and walked back in the bedroom to check on Jack. He seemed to be sleeping comfortably so Tyler walked back into the living room. He checked his watch, six o'clock, and then felt his stomach rumble. Walking to the fridge, he opened it and saw it was virtually empty. He took Jack's keys, picked up the prescriptions, and left the apartment to go the grocery store and the pharmacy.

Tyler returned almost an hour later, in part due to the snow, but mostly due to the ineptitude of the child behind the cash register. Dave had called, saying aside from falling in the snow twice, he got home safely. Tyler walked into the apartment, set the bags on the counter, kicked off his wet shoes, hung up his coat and then went to see Jack. He walked into the bedroom, expecting to see Jack comfortable in bed. Instead, Tyler found Jack on the floor of the bathroom, an ugly bruise on his cheek. It appeared he went into the bathroom and collapsed, hitting the sink on the way down. Tyler gently rolled him on his back, checking his vitals.

"Jack? Malone? Wake up!" he said loudly.

Jack opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Tyler, man, I feel like crap. What am I doing on the floor?"

"I'm not sure. You have pneumonia and are supposed to be in bed. Let's get you on your feet. Maybe you had to use the john?" Tyler suggested, helping him to stand.

"Maybe, God, my head hurts," Jack said, leaning over to fight the nausea and dizziness.

"You clocked yourself on the sink. Come on; let's get you back into bed." Tyler said, easing him in that direction.

"So tired," Jack remarked.

"I know," Tyler replied getting him into bed.

Jack closed his eyes and fell into a light sleep. Tyler went back to the kitchen and put the food away. He bought broth for Jack, pasta, chicken, bread, milk and eggs; figuring that would cover them until Saturday when he had to leave.

He put water on to boil and pulled out the pasta. Taking a chicken breast, he covered it with barbecue sauce and then set it in the broiler. He opened some frozen peas and put them in a bowl for the microwave. Forty minutes later, he had a nice chicken pasta dinner. He poured himself a glass of wine, and sat at the small dining room table, listening for Jack. As he was finishing his dinner he heard a noise in Jack's room. Quickly he got up and walked in. Jack had pulled off his wet sweatshirt and kicked off the covers. He was sitting in bed, sweat rolling off of him, his eyes open, his breathing laboured.

"Jack? Hey, Jack? What's going on?" Tyler said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Hot, can't catch my breath," Jack stated.

"It's time for your meds, just hang on." Tyler said, as he went into the bathroom.

Walking back in, he put the pills in Jack's hand and handed him the glass of water. Jack again swallowed the pills dry and then drank the glass of water. Tyler took the glass and put in on the bedside table before getting a clean t-shirt from Jack's bureau.

"Hands up!" Tyler instructed, as he got ready to slip the t-shirt on Jack's frame.

Jack complied and settled back to bed, falling asleep almost immediately. Tyler walked out into the living room, took his dishes to the sink, poured himself some more wine, and sat at the counter of the pass through. He looked at the pad, seeing the names of the people who had called. He smiled, pulling his Palm Pilot out of his jacket pocket. He found the number he was looking for and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Viv, it's Tyler,"

"Tyler, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Viv. I'm here with Jack."

"Oh, he didn't mention you were coming up."

"He didn't know. He's sick, Viv. He has pneumonia, a temperature of 103; he's a mess."

Viv sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Can you stay with him?" she asked.

"Yeah, but I have meetings on Saturday."

"Okay, let me see what I can do."

"Thanks, what about Annie?"

"Annie?"

"Yeah, Ann Cassidy? You know, I heard they were dating."

"Tyler, they're both hurting. She lost her husband of nine years. He lost his mentor, his father, and finalized the divorce in a two month period. He needs her. I'm just not sure she's ready for a relationship." Val remarked.

"What about Danny? Can he help Jack?"

"He could, although I don't know if Jack would call him. He's so stubborn and private."

"I know, look keep in touch. I'll be here."

"I'll call you tomorrow," Viv said.

"Great, thanks,"

"Bye,"

"Bye, Viv," Tyler said, hanging up the phone.

Walking to the front door, he picked up his briefcase and headed to Jack's desk. He moved Jack's mouse and realized his computer was still on. He shut it down and pulled out his laptop. Switching the Ethernet cable, he turned on his computer. When it was fully booted up, Tyler reset his network connection and got on line. He sat down at the desk and started to work.

10:00pm

Rubbing his eyes, Tyler logged off his computer and walked back to check on Jack. He was asleep, mouth slightly open, breathing heavily. His face was pale and wet. Tyler left him alone and walked back into the living room. He poured himself another glass of wine and sat on the leather sofa, before turning on the television.