"A friend is one with whom you are comfortable, to whom you are loyal, through whom you are blessed, and for whom you are grateful." –William Arthur Ward
For all the time he spent contemplating her reactions outside of her door, it was rather anti-climactic when he ended up having to let himself in after she didn't answer.
"Bones!" he called, eyes adjusting to the dim light. "Knock, knock, anybody home?"
He put the frozen yogurt in the freezer and set the movies on the counter. She wasn't in either the kitchen or the living room, which meant that locating her was going to involve a serious breach of her personal space; not that that had stopped him in the past.
His head shot up as a low moan issued from the back of the apartment and he covered the distance quickly, listening for it again. When it came he breathed a small sigh of relief that it was coming from her bathroom, not her bedroom. The bathroom door was slightly ajar and definitely where the noise was coming from and it didn't take him long to decide that he was going in whether she was fully dressed or not.
His heart clenched at the sight of her shadowy figured curled up beside the toilet, obviously in pain. He flicked on the light.
"Turn it off! Turn it off!" she yelled immediately, shielding her eyes.
He did. Quickly. Cursing himself for causing her more pain.
"What are you doing here, Booth?" she groaned, looking up at him.
"A little birdie told me you were sick," he offered a smile.
"Your avian informant should also have told you that I am more than capable of caring for myself," she shook her head, voice lacking its normal edge.
"Chose that comfy seat yourself, did you?" he gestured to the hard floor where she'd obviously been curled up for some time.
"Go away, Booth."
"No can do, Bones," it was his turn to shake his head. "I got you into this so I'll help you out of it. Besides, it's what partners do."
Fortunately, she was too incoherent to follow his line of reasoning and within a couple of minutes, allowed him to help her to her feet.
"Couch or bed, Bones?" he asked.
"Couch," she managed, coughing every bit as badly as he had.
He grabbed a blanket from her linen closet on their way out, glad to see her moving under her own power. Watching carefully to make sure she didn't fall, he shut out the fact that her damp camisole and soft grey yoga pants left little to his imagination and helped lower her down on the couch, covering her with the light blanket.
"You're burning up, Bones," he said softly, brushing his fingers ever so lightly across her forehead. "Got any aspirin around here?"
"Bag," she pointed at the shoulder bag she toted back and forth to the lab before she turned away from him to cough loudly again, head falling back to rest on the couch's arm with her eyes closed.
"Right," he murmured, hoping she wasn't one of those women who kept their whole lives in their purse.
He dug aground and found it then headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. On the counter by the fridge he found a bottle of prescription pills, along with what looked like a log of when she had taken them.
"Looks like it's time for your medicine," he said when he returned, handing her the pills and a glass of water.
She tossed everything in her mouth and chased it down with one big gulp of water, wincing at the fiery pain it cost her. He watched her try to get comfortable again and slipped away to hunt up her pillow. In the bedroom he found her blankets in heaps beside her bed where she'd flung them off and on. Once he'd delivered her pillow and made sure she didn't need anything else he went back to her room, stripping the damp sheets off and remaking it with the efficiency of a man who'd never failed a bunk inspection.
He threw the sheets along with her discarded clothes into the hamper in her washer and started it before moving on to the bathroom. He took a deep breath and flicked the light on again, nearly gagging in the process. The floor told him she hadn't been 100% accurate in her aim and the stench from the un-flushed commode made him double over.
Another moan from the living room sent him running and he spent the next few minutes dabbing her forehead with a wet washcloth and murmuring softly to her. When she fell back asleep he armed himself with every cleaning product in her house and went to tackle the bathroom. An hour later he had finished cleaning, taken a quick shower himself, and went to check on his patient.
Her fever had finally broken and she was sleeping peacefully so he let her, busying himself by putting her clothes into the dryer and cleaning the few dishes he found in her sink.
"Booth?" he heard her weak call.
"Hey, Bones," he smiled as he watched her sit up, color returning to her pale cheeks. "Feeling better?"
"Yes, thank you," she nodded. "What are you doing here?"
"Angela told me that you were sick so I, erm, came over to see if you needed any help," he rubbed a hand through his hair.
"I have the Epstein-Barr virus more commonly known as mononucleosis," she said matter-of-factly. "My symptoms first surfaced two weeks ago and are only now beginning to abate."
"This is abating?" he cocked an eyebrow.
"My trip was not pleasant," she frowned.
"And you're sure it's mono?" he asked.
"Yes," anger flared in her eyes and she crossed her arms. "I'm quite capable of diagnosing myself, though if you are still in doubt there's this-"
Before he knew what was happening, she was pulling up her shirt and giving him a full frontal view of herself whether he wanted it or not. What caught his eye before he managed to look away, though, was the angry red rash covering the majority of her skin.
"What the hell is that?" he asked as he started to pace so he wouldn't be tempted to take a second look. "And how's about putting your shirt down now, okay?"
"That," she said in a cranky voice, thankfully lowering her shirt, "is the product of a reaction between the mononucleosis and the amoxicillin prescribed to me by the Peruvian doctor for strep throat."
"Remind me not to go to Peru," he joked.
She frowned, "It had nothing to do with what country I was in. Doctors quite frequently misdiagnose it at first. The ensuing rash, however, made it quite clear what happened."
"I'm sorry," he stopped pacing and faced her.
"No need," she shrugged, "Most likely I contracted it from either Hailey or Emma around the time of our Christmas celebration. Though I would advise you not to drink from the same cup as me for the time being."
"I'm not the one who's always stealing people's food," he winked, then shifted his weight trying to figure out how to tell her the truth.
"What's wrong, Booth?" she tilted her head. "You're acting very oddly and you still haven't told me why you felt you needed to come tend for me- which I don't need, by the way."
He cleared his throat, "Um, look, Bones, do you know what other name mono goes by?"
"The Epstein-Barr virus," she nodded, confused. "I told you that."
"Yeah, you did," he said quickly. "But it's also known as the 'kissing disease' and, well, I didn't have the best start to the New Year either health wise."
Surprise dawned on her face as his words registered and she responded with a single word: "Oh."
