A/N: Reviews make me smile.

Warm Bodies belongs to Isaac Marion.

Chapter 5: Sickness

The fall slowly departed, leaves falling off trees, clouds crowding the sky, grass drying up. The weather went from slightly cool to cold. Nora, who was still dutifully helping nurse the sick, went to work every day despite the weather, along with Julie, who patrolled for boneys or just helped out in general. Occasionally, R joined them, but he usually just did chores around the house. Things finally settled into a routine, with busy mornings and afternoons, but quiet and warm evenings. There were no complaints.

One very cold day, R awoke and realized he felt...wrong. Not in an emotional way, not angry or sad, but there was an ache in his stomach and a lightness in his head. He was sweating, but his body was cold. This..isn't right. He thought, rolling over. He couldn't find the strength to get out of bed, so he fell back asleep.

When he awoke again, Nora was standing by his bed. She had obviously just come from work, her uncontrollable frizzy hair in a ponytail, her coat dirty. "Hey, sweetie," she said. "Jules told me that you looked pretty sick this morning, but she has to work, so I decided to come home early."

"Sick," R murmured. He knew what sick was. This is what it felt like? "Ick."

Nora giggled. "How're you feeling?"

"Disgusting."

"Yeah, I'd assume so," she gently placed a hand on his forehead. "Jesus, you're burning. You've probably got a touch of the flu from this cold weather.Are you hungry?" Before he could answer, his stomach rumbled loudly. Nora laughed again. "Well, I don't think I need an answer now."

"I don't wanna eat," R practically sounded like a child. Nora sighed.

"I know, sweetie, but you've really gotta get something in you. We don't want you starving. You've died once." R gave her a glare. "And God, you're so skinny anyway. I'll make you something."

She returned later with a tray. Canned peaches, leftover rice from the previous night's dinner, and some tea. He looked up her oddly, confused at her food choices. "I know, it's a little weird. I work with what I have." He took a small, unwilling bite from the syrupy peaches, almost too sweet for him.

"Thank you..." he murmured. He ate in silence for awhile while Nora sat and read for awhile. "Nora?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for helping me. You're a good person." she chuckled.

"Of course, R."

Julie returned a little earlier than usual. R had forced down the rest of the meal, tried to read a little bit of a book by himself, but quickly fell asleep again. She found him just waking up again. He was not fond of this odd tiredness and the restless slumbers, waking up either in a sorching hot or freezing cold.

"Hi, cutie," she laughed.

"I am not cute. Not right now anyway." his mouth tasted funny.

She pushed his hair back from his stick forehead, stopping a moment to run her fingers through his hair a few times. "Mmm. Well, if you don't mind I'm gonna go grab a bite to eat myself. I'll be right back in a moment. Get a little more rest." All I've done is rest, he said to himself as she left.

Suddenly, his stomach lurched and something rose in his throat. His first instinct was to run (more like stumble) to the bathroom; whatever he was going to do, he didn't want to do it all him and Julie's bed. Something strange and disgusting came out of his mouth and into the toilet. "Oh, Goooooood," he groaned. "What haaaaappened?" He wretched a few more times, then finally rest his head against the wall.

"R?" Julie knocked on the doorframe (he hadn't bothered to shut the door) "What happened? Oh, Lord, did you throw up?"

"So that's what 'throwing up' is? Why, Julie, why?" She threw her head back and laughed. "I don't think it's very funny."

"It isn't. I just remembered the first time I threw up."

"That's...a weird thing to remember."

"I know. But I actually ralphed on my mom's white carpet, then screamed because I thought I was dying. I was four." Even R laughed at that. She helped him off the floor and tucked him into bed. She took a quick shower, cleaned up the bathroom, and crawled into bed with him.

"I don't like being sick." he mumbled.

"No one does," she said. "You'll be okay tomorrow. I promise."

And, to R's delight, he was.

A/N: I, too, first threw up when I was four and had no idea what had happened. I actually started yelling "What happened?". It's an odd thing to remember, but when your parents still taunt you about it well into your teenage years, it kinda sticks with ya.