Chapter 13: Malady

James Isaac Neutron did not get sick. The only memory of being sick in his recent memory when was when he was three and got the chicken pox (but who didn't at that age?) and when he invented the sick patch. But considering the point of the sick patch was to get you sick, and that he voluntarily taken it, well, that was an isolated incident. Granted, he did get the occasional headache or cough or stuffy nose, but he was the head of a multibillion dollar company and surely people who live which such day to day stress are allowed a momentarily lapse of white blood cells.

So when he woke up with a headache, he thought nothing of it. He merely went down to the kitchen and took some Tylenol. The mistake being, of course, doing it in view of his wife.

"Are you feeling okay?" Cindy had asked him as he downed the meds with a glass of water. "You don't normally take Tylenol."

He shrugged. "Just a slight headache dearest. That's all."

She had frowned, but let it go.

"Are you waiting for me to spontaneously combust?" He asked her two days later. They were sitting at the dinner table and she had been watching him like one watches a lion in a zoo.

"You had quite the hacking fit last night."

He rolled his eyes. "Its nothing."

She raised her eyebrows. "Nothing?"

"Nothing." He concurred. "Just some dry air." He turned back to his pasta, missing the way his wife had rolled her eyes, a look of disdain on her face.

However, it turned out to be something. Not like he would ever tell his wife that. Cindy was insufferable when she was correct. But even he could not deny that he was going from bad to worse over the following days. His headaches were more frequent, his body ached, and he had a sore throat more often than night. But, per usual, stubbornness won out over all, and he simply found himself drinking more tea and eating supplements over going to the doctor.

He knew it wasn't working when he was standing in front of his board of trustees giving a presentation on the quarter when he a sudden wave of nausea overtook him and he found himself clutching the end of the table for support.

"Boss, is everything okay?" Charles had asked, standing in concern.

"I'm not feeling the best," He finally admitted, another wave hit him and he managed to get out, "Perhaps you should call Cindy-" Before he hit the carpet.

The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was a crack on the celling. He had meant to fix said crack for weeks but hadn't got around to it, much to Cindy's chagrin. With the knowledge that he was home in his own bed, he buried himself deeper into the blankets, his body relieved that the strain they had been forced to endure the past week and a half was finally over.

"No, he's fine, Mrs. Neutron." His wife's voice floated through the doorway. "He just had a severe case of pneumonia that finally got to him." A pause. "No, I agree. I told him the same thing." She sighed. "Can do. I'll talk to you later."

He caught her eye as she peeked in the doorway. "Hey," Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." He admitted. "You told mom I have pneumonia?"

She nodded. "That's what Dr. Marks said. So your out of commission for a while buddy."

He yawned. "Somehow, I think I'll manage." He rolled over to his side, taking in the comfortableness of the bed. He barely registered Cindy kissing his temple before he drifted off.

It took six days full of sleep, soup, and water for him to start feeling better. Cindy was in and out of the apartment, but Goddard was a common friend at his side. Cindy kissed him good morning and when she returned would make him soup and sit at his side, reading or doing casework until he fell back asleep. He took comfort in his two companions, and for the first time in a long time, allowed all the stress and craziness of NeuCo to slip away.

By the fourth day, he was able to get out of bed and walk around. Cindy still refused to let him do anything associated with work, assuring him that "everything was taken care of." Still too weak to argue (especially since Cindy's premonition of him needing to go to the doctor was right and he knew her well enough to know that she would hold that over his head) he relented and took the time to do absolutely nothing at all. Although the fact that he was finally able to walk to the living room from the bedroom to laze on the couch was a much warranted victory.

"Well, look who's up."

He couldn't help but grin as he walked into the kitchen, fully dressed for work. He kissed his wife's forehead before turning back to make himself breakfast. "And it feels great." He admitted.

"Its good to have you up and about." Cindy admitted. "I've missed you."

He smirked. "Is that so?"

"Mmmm," She responded absentmindedly, while flipping through the paper. "Your not really that much fun when you sleep all day."

He laughed at that. "Coming from the woman who spent several days in a coma." He paused to take a bite of his cereal. "Thanks for everything by the way."

She looked up at him and smiled. "I'm your wife. Being a part-time Florence Nightingale is what I do." She paused, before tossing him a coy look. "And make sure you don't overexert yourself at work today."

He raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

She walked over to him and flirtaously ran her fingers down the front of his shirt. "Well, I was thinking that if you were up to it, we could have a night in-"

She didn't get much further before his was kissing her. When they finally pulled back from each other, he kept her close and whispered huskily, "Well, I could always call in for one more sick day."

She smirked, "Well then what are you waiting for?" She asked as she grabbed him by the hand and led him back to the bedroom.