AN: Beta-ed by the lovey and talented LoyaulteMeLie
7
Inner Richmond, San Francisco, CA, 0715 hours, October 7, 2149
Jean glanced at the date display on her screen again and shook her head. Malcolm had said he would be back late on the sixth or early on the seventh, but she hadn't heard anything from him yet, and she had never known him to go back on his word. His usual pattern was to call as soon as he got back to town, unless it was between midnight and dawn, and he knew her schedule, so she was surprised that he hadn't called her yet.
"I'm probably being silly," she muttered, absently stirring her oatmeal. It was still fairly early on the seventh, after all, and he was a grown man, perfectly capable of looking after himself… so why did she have a cold knot of worry in her gut? She was eating breakfast at her desk instead of in the kitchen that morning, hoping to get an incoming call before heading out to work. "Well, there's no rule that says I can't call him, right?"
She dialed Malcolm's number and waited for the vid call to connect, impatiently drumming her fingers on the desk.
Ring…
Ring…
Ring…
Ring…
She shook her head. He probably wasn't home yet. That's all. He was probably still off world doing… whatever it was he did.
She frowned. He never told her what his 'assignments' were, and they weren't close enough for her to feel entirely comfortable pressing the issue, but given his knowledge of weapons, explosives and tactics, added to the fact that he was often called away on very short notice and returned with various injuries, Jean was fairly certain that he wasn't really working for R&D. The lying bothered her, but again, she didn't feel secure enough in their friendship to press the issue. It had taken the better part of two months to get him to trust her at all, and she didn't want to jeopardize that by asking too many questions.
Ring…
Ring…
Ring…
Ring…
"Well, I guess he isn't home yet." She decided to try him again around lunch time and was about to close the call when the screen flickered to life and a pale face blinked out at her.
Her eyes went wide. "Holy crap. Malcolm?"
He looked awful to the point where she almost didn't recognize him. He was shaking, sweaty, his hair was matted, there were dark circles under his eyes and he was coughing badly. She found her voice again, but now it was laced with concern. "What…"
He managed to catch his breath and motioned for her to be quiet. "Jean, I'm afraid I'll have to cancel our lunch. If you wouldn't mind rescheduling –"
She shook her head, worried and confused but determined. "Oh no, mister. You're sick and I'm coming over right now to make sure you're taking care of yourself."
His breath came quicker and he looked downright scared, shaking his head frantically. "No!" Raising his voice must have irritated his throat, because he doubled over with a few deep, painful-sounding coughs. Once he'd gotten himself under control again, he went on. "I don't… I don't need a nursemaid and I'm contagious."
She crossed her arms, glaring at her sick, stubbon friend. "So I'll get inoculated. What do you have?"
"I…" he broke off, coughing into his fist and shaking with each ragged breath. It took nearly a full minute before he got himself under control again. "Hesperan Thumping Cough, but…"
"Save it, " She snapped at him, pulling up a small data window in the corner of her vid screen and searching the IME database for an article on the disease in question so she would have some idea of what she would be dealing with.
"Jean, really, you don't need to – "
His stoicism was annoying at the best of times, but she had thought that he had better sense than to turn down help when he was obviously in such rough shape. Clearly, she had given him too much credit in the sense department, and her worry quickly turned into annoyance. "I might believe that you were okay to deal with this on your own if it didn't look like you were about to fall out of you chair, but the way you're weaving around while trying to sit still pretty much torpedoes any 'I'm fine' argument you might be planning on making. I'm coming over as soon as I get the shot."
He seemed to shrink into himself after hearing her sharp tone.
She softened at seeing the hurt, shame-filled look on his face and took a steadying breath before she spoke again. "I'm sorry, Mal. I'm just worried about you and don't want you to suffer if you don't have to." She was relieved when he seemed to relax at her gentler tone. "Now, do you have a glass of water? How about a blanket?"
He bobbed his head twice in the affirmative, staring past her and shivering. He sat forward slightly, wrapping his arms around himself like he was trying to warm up. Jean couldn't remember ever seeing him look so miserable, so she gave him an encouraging smile and nodded. "Okay, Mal. Drink your water and then lie down until I get there. Try to stay warm, okay?"
Malcolm gave a resigned sigh and nodded tiredly. "Jean, I…"
She smiled when he trailed off, looking uncertain. "Thank me later. For now, just rest. I'll be there quick as I can."
He nodded again and closed the call without another word. Her smile faded. He'd never really been a fan of small talk, but this was extreme even for him.
She started reading the IME entry about the disease Malcolm had mentioned. It just so happened that there was an up-to-date vaccine for HTC in the MedBanks at Starfleet Medical, so she could get inoculated and pick up medical supplies before going to look after him.
She called Starfleet Medical to talk to Phlox, and the Denobulan gave her a run-down of what to expect, but then he paused. "If there is any way I could be of assistance…"
"Actually, if you could put together a bag of supplies for at-home care, just basic equipment I'll need to get his fever down and keep him hydrated. Also, if you could load a hypo with a dose of vaccine for Hesperan Thumping Cough and administer it to me, that would be really helpful."
Phlox nodded, smiling benificently. "Of course. I'll have it all ready by the time you arrive."
"Thank you, Phlox." She smiled back at him and ended the call, switching her attention to the IME article.
She scrolled down through the symptom overview and loaded the info onto a PADD. Just as well it was a Saturday and she didn't work weekends. She shook her head. Nevermind the weekend, if she couldn't talk him into being treated at Starfleet Medical, this was going to keep her busy for the next few weeks. There were a few things at her place which might come in handy, so she quickly put together a bag of supplies, including a couple changes of clothes and some sundries. If she ended up staying at Malcolm's place for a few days, and it looked like there might be a chance of that, she wanted to be prepared. Once the bag was packed, she grabbed her coat, turned off the lights, and headed out
Malcolm stumbled away from his work station and by some miracle managed to blindly feel his way back to the couch without walking into or tripping over anything. He counted that as a small victory, along with the fact that he had managed to sit down on the couch without pinning the fluffy blue comforter beneath himself. He felt around for the water bottle Stephens had left and gave a relieved sigh when his hand closed around it. Now that he knew where it was and that it wouldn't go rolling away when he shifted the covers, he bundled himself back under the comforter.
It took a few minutes, but he drank nearly half of the bottle and then pulled the covers closer with a convulsive shiver, waiting for his breath to steady after so much exertion.
Getting up to answer the vid call had been an adventure. At first he hadn't been sure what the chiming noise was that had woken him, and then once he figured it out, he just wanted it to be quiet again so he could go back to sleep. After managing to get himself upright, his feet had become tangled in the blanket and he nearly fell, just barely managing to catch himself on the coffee table. The next bit had been difficult as well. None of the lights in his flat were turned on, and since the darkened monitor and desk space were flanked on one side by a bunch of matching cabinets and on the other by a curtained window, he hadn't been able to see his work station. He had just followed the chimes, hoping that whoever was calling wouldn't give up before he reached the desk. One he had gotten there and tried to sit down, he had come very close to missing his chair altogether. All in all, he was glad to be back under his blanket with help on the way.
His eyes closed and he let himself relax, snuggling into the cushions and waiting for his self-made cocoon to warm up. Jean was coming. She was a doctor and, even better, she was his friend. This would be almost as good as being at hospital. Better, even, since he would be in his own flat instead of some cold, noisy ward.
Malcolm frowned. Harris had wanted him to lay low, and if he found out about Jean paying a home-visit, would the man consider that disobedience of a direct order? Malcolm didn't know, and frankly, he realized that he didn't much care. He didn't want anyone to get into trouble on his account, but if he was honest, he'd been relieved when Jean had insisted on coming to check on him. The only thing left for him to do was sleep and hope that he didn't get her sick by accident.
TBC