"You don't have to be so nice," Erin said. "Or did you forget we hate each other?"
"I didn't forget," Dave said, wringing out the washcloth in his hand. Water dripped into the bowl on the bedside table. He sat on the side of the bed and bathed her face and neck with the rag. Her blonde hair sprawled across the feather pillow. In a few hours, Erin transformed from fragile-like-a-bomb to fragile-like-an-orchid. "I'm just trying to keep you from dying in my guest room." He fed her advil and water, but the fever was persistent. Erin didn't know it but if she didn't break a sweat in the next hour, they were taking a trip to the ER, where there were better drugs and IV fluids.
She sighed, the cool water was a welcome relief. "That's comforting," she said. A weak smile spread across her face. "Some things never change."
"If I remember correctly, the last time we were in a situation like this, I was the patient." Dave said.
"Oh, I remember… and I didn't kill you then."
"I'll return the favor," he promised.
"Are you sure about that?" She asked, her eyes fluttered closed, exhausted by the fever and the late hour.
"Pretty sure.." He pulled the infrared thermometer from the first aid kit and aimed it at her forehead. When he was satisfied by the result, he packed up his tackle box and got comfortable on the sofa on the other side of the room.
"Are you really going to stay way over there while I am over here dying? I seem to recall when the shoe was on the other foot, my bedside manner was a lot kinder."
"That's because at the time, we were hot and heavy between the sheets. We don't have that type of relationship anymore, since you decided to become the Princess of Darkness."
"You and I had a difference of opinion," she said weakly.
"Oh yeah, what d'ya mean Erin?" He asked, moving towards her.
She leaned over the edge of the bed and puked in the trash can. Then looked up and said, "You thought you were God and I didn't."
"Bitch." He said, without heat, handing her the wet washcloth to wipe her mouth.
"And don't you forget it," she said, weak and shaky.
He tied off the bag in the trash can. "You can't lay back down," he warned her.
"Why the hell not?" She asked him, "I am a grown woman, I can do what I damn well please."
"If you say so, just don't expect any sympathy from me, when you die from choking on your own vomit."
"At least it won't get on your sheets."
"Yeah, but the smell of your corpse will ruin the ambiance of the rest of the house."
"You're an asshole," she groaned, lowering herself slowly out of bed. Her arm clutched her stomach. Dave held her arm and helped her to the bathroom. The more she moved the worse she felt, a tide of nausea rolled over her.
Dave watched her go pale as she leaned over the toilet bowl. "Just breathe," he said, he gathered her hair away from her face and held it back.
"Don't tell me what to do," she choked, with her face in the bowl.
"Erin, I'm trying to keep you alive and you're not making my job easy."
"Misery loves company." She said, she tried to ignore the cool rag on the back of her neck and how comforting it felt. "You can stop being nice to me, because I sure as hell am not going to be nice to you." She said, pressing her cheek against the cool bathroom tile.
"Sorry, Babe." He ran the rag over her forehead, "You're not going to make me miserable and I'm going to take care of you, until you can hold your head up."
"How long do you think that's going to take?" She asked. Too weak to protest as he leaned her back to recline against his body. Her limbs felt like lead, she couldn't fight him off even if she wanted to.
"I don't know," he said honestly.
"Can you knock me in a coma till it's over?" She asked, 300% serious. If anyone had warned her that detoxing would be so awful, she would have never picked up her first beer. She couldn't move without bone crushing body aches. Water made her feel sick. David was the only thing making this easier, but if anyone asked, she would lie like a rug; She would claim temporary insanity from the lack of alcohol in her system. Sure, she could handle the flu on her own, she'd done it. She'd taken care of sick children, while running 102℉ fever. Hell, not even her husband took care of her when she got sick. Instead, he left her his credit card and went to play golf. Which begged the question, why the fuck was David Rossi playing nursmaid? How much of this was she going to hear about at the watercooler on Monday?
"Where's the fun in that?" Dave needled her, she gave as good as she got especially on her deathbed.
"For you?" She questioned, it was easier to be mean to him. He couldn't use that against her.
"Practicing," she deadpanned.
Rossi pretended to think about it. "Nah, I'd enjoy it too much, then I couldn't keep a straight face, in front of the judge, when you didn't wake up out of the coma. The FBI, kinda frowns on it's agents being tried for attempted murder."
"Fair point," she said. "Now, let me up," she staggered to the sink and rinsed her mouth.
Dave shook his head, she was putting him through the ringer tonight.
"Do you still feel sick?" He asked, flushing the commode.
"Like death," Erin said, unscrewing the cap on the mouthwash.
"Can I do anything?" He reached over and felt her forehead.
She spit the mouthwash in the sink, "mind your personal space-"
"That's kinda hard to do when you're trying to keep someone alive."
"Try harder." The last thing she needed was for him to have more ammunition to hold over her head. She was grateful for his concern, but everything came with a price. He had everything he needed to sink her career, but if she played her cards right she might be able to rebuild from the ashes.
"If I tried any harder woman, you'd be lying flat on your face in your own puke right now. So just go with it."
"Apparently, I don't have a choice."
Dave shook his head, "you really don't. So, you might as well be nice to me."
"That's a tall order."
He'd had enough, suddenly Dave picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.
"You're going to regret that, when I puke down your back," Erin warned him. In three strides, he covered the space between the bathroom and the bed. Without a word, Dave dropped Erin on the bed and left the room. Slamming the door behind him. Being kind only made her harder to deal with, she expected him to act like a jerk. David Rossi aimed to please.
"Are you really going to leave me here?" Erin asked, yelling into the empty room. When she didn't receive an answer she said, "Well goodnight to you too, Asshole!"
Ears ringing, Dave went to his own room and locked the door. It didn't matter to him if she choked on her own vomit sometime in the night. He kept the coroner on speed dial. The worst case scenario involved a hole in the backyard. He showered, letting the hot water burn off his anger. Erin was right about one thing, life would be easier if she were in a coma. At least then, she couldn't talk.