Pounding.
Daniel awoke to someone banging on his door.
He peeled an eye open and groaned as the knocking increased in pitch. He lay on the floor another minute before ripping the towel off in frustration and stumbling to his feet. He staggered dizzily through his apartment, muttering curses the whole way.
He flung the door open, clutching the frame to keep from toppling over.
"Dammit Jack, would you just leave me the hell alone?"
He blinked in surprise at seeing his neighbor, Mrs. Markle, standing there.
She'd been living next door longer than Daniel or any other tenant had been in the complex, and since she'd lost her husband a few months back, he'd hardly seen her out at all.
But there she was, standing at Daniel's door at two thirty in the morning, carrying a blanket and two plastic grocery bags full to bursting.
"Oh, child," She said gently, taking in Daniel's appearance- pale with a deep flush that told of a fever, soaked in sweat, shirt stained with the evidence of his illness, tear tracks still visible on his face.
"I-I'm... s-sorry," He stuttered, squinting at her.
"It's okay," She soothed, gently gripping his upper arm and leading him back into his apartment. "Let's get you settled."
Daniel stumbled beside her, but Mrs. Markle was faster, laying a steady hand on his back.
"Which way is your bed?"
Daniel just grunted and lurched dizzily towards the couch.
"Okay, slow down. There you go." She helped him sit down on the couch and gently lowered his head between his knees.
"Stay like that, honey. Deep breaths. Do you feel sick to your stomach?"
He nodded as he started to pant through the nausea.
Moments later, Daniel's blurry vision focused on a trash can lined with a plastic bag tucked between his feet.
"There's a bucket right here, child. Best to get it out, hon. You're okay."
Daniel whimpered as his mouth flooded with saliva and a cold sweat broke out. A feeling of dread washed over him, and he gagged violently. A steady hand touched the back of his neck.
"No need to be embarrassed, hon," she said quietly.
Daniel reached down and gripped the edges of the trash can before retching again. He clutched the plastic container like his life depended on it for at least a minute while his stomach tried to empty itself of nothing.
Eventually, he felt Mrs. Markle's warm, steady hands over his, peeling his stiff fingers off.
"Looks like you've got nothing left to come up, honey. Let's get you lying down."
She eased him back until he was lying against the couch, then helped him lift his legs to lie across the cushions.
"Try to rest, child. I'm going to get your bed settled. The trash can is right by your head if you need it." She gave him a gentle smile and rested her hand briefly on his forehead before slipping off toward the kitchen.
Daniel felt his eyes drifting closed- his last conscious thought wondering what on earth Mrs. Markle was doing in his apartment.
o-O-o-O-o
Anne found a pot under the stove and removed the frozen block of soup from its plastic container, setting it to reheat on medium heat. She then wandered down the hallway until she found the bedroom. She flicked on the lights after searching for a moment to find the evidence of Daniel's nocturnal distress.
She frowned as she noticed the mess covering the carpet, the sheets tangled and soaked with sweat. The poor man had been struggling more than she had thought. Anne quickly stripped the bed before peeking in the drawers for a spare set of sheets. Finding none, she brought the soiled linens down to the laundromat and started a disinfecting load of laundry before digging up some things from her own linen shelf.
She went to the kitchen next and stirred the now thawed chicken soup, looking around for a dash of salt when a sudden, sharp cry from the direction of the couch had her lowering the heat and hurrying toward the noise.
o-O-o-O-o
I'm dead anyways, just go!
Jack's face was pained, as he considered the options.
Daniel! Dammit...
Just go...
And he did.
Daniel watched his back retreat out the door. He didn't look back.
Why didn't he look back?
Oh god. He was glad. Glad Daniel was as good as dead. Did he ever want him? Did anyone? His chest ached, his stomach churning. The acrid stench of charred flesh and burned plastic only made it worse.
He gagged.
He was going to die. Right here.
Without Jack.
Without anyone.
Why was he so alone?
His stomach cramped and twisted, the pain of the staff blast fading into the background as he cried out against the sharp pain in his gut.
He moaned to try and contain the agony. He'd been in this amount of pain enough times to know that making noise helped. Here, he wasn't worried about giving away his position. He was already dead.
His position?
Since when did he sound like Jack?
He gagged again.
Oh god. He was going to die.
A cool hand touched his face, and he jumped.
"- ax, child," a feminine voice floated over the cloud of pain.
He sobbed in agony, pulling away from the phantom touch. Dizziness crashed into him, and he panted to stay conscious.
What was happening to him?
o-O-o-O-o
Anne reached the distressed man just in time to see him retch over the side of the couch, vaguely in the direction of the trash can. She hurried to his side, ready to help him through the next bout of nausea, when she saw his face as he flopped onto his back.
He was pale, even in the dim light of the living room, and slicked with sweat. His eyes were open, but he wasn't aware of anything around him. His pupils were dilated, dark pools rimmed by only a sliver of blue. He panted for breath, hands compulsively clutching the blanket she'd laid over his chest.
His whole body jerked with the next heave. A shiver ran down Anne's spine at the next sound he made- a low, agonized moan that attested to absolute agony. His head flopped side-to-side as he continued to pant, as if fighting an inhumane amount of pain.
A few seconds later, he began to mutter and cry out- in his sleep- she belatedly realized. He was having a nightmare.
"Hon, you need to wake up," She said gently but firmly.
He whined and clutched at his stomach through the blanket, clawing the fabric desperately.
"Relax, child, try to come back to me."
He sobbed once, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Another vicious gag had a single tear tracing a path down the side of his face before being absorbed into the couch under him.
Anne had a sinking feeling that his return to awareness would be frantic and violent.
Staying out of the danger zone, she rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.
Sure enough, he bolted upright with a shout, throwing a powerful left hook into thin air.
The force of his attack caused him to sway to the side, but he managed to catch himself before face planting into the couch, then choking on a violent gag.
He was able to suck in a breath before he lost a belly full of mucus and bile all over the blanket in his lap. Anne scooped up the trash and held it under his chin, taking a seat on the couch next to him as he sobbed through the upheaval that brought up nothing but more bile.
"Try to breathe through it, child," She soothed, resting a hand on his forehead as he slumped toward the mess.
He spat into the trash can before leaning back against the couch.
"S-sorry..." He whimpered, dragging a violently shaking hand across his mouth.
"Stay here," Anne said gently but firmly as she took the soiled blanket away and went to get him a glass of water.
"Rinse and spit," She said, holding the glass to his lips. Raising his trembling hands up, Daniel tried to take it from her, but she moved it away before he could spill it.
"Let me," she said gently, "You're shaking, child."
Taking a quivering breath, Daniel grudgingly took a mouthful, swished it around, and spit into the trash can with a grimace.
Blinking a few times, Daniel turned his head to look at her for the first time.
"Please, don't take this the wrong way," he started wearily, "but what the hell are you doing here?"
"Helping you make it through the night," she said gently, raising her hand to check his temperature.
Daniel also reached up to grasp her wrist, lowering her hand away from him.
"I'm okay now," He said, swallowing hard.
"You're getting there, hon. We still have a few more hours till morning." She got up off the couch. Anne instinctively knew that this man had been through many more horrors than a single person should be. Although that nightmare was exacerbated by his temperature, his reaction afterwards told more of his story then the dream had- he was calm.
He was used to it.
And he sure as hell wouldn't want to talk about it.
"Do you think it's something you ate?" Anne said as she headed towards the kitchen.
Daniel paused for a moment, curling an arm round his cramping abdomen. "I-I don't know."
He could have food poisoning- oh crap.
He could have caught something off-world. Surely the Tollan didn't have disease anymore? Maybe he was just now showing symptoms from a different local disease, exposure could have been days, weeks, months ago.
What if he was contagious? He swallowed hard against an already upset stomach. He looked up at Mrs. Markle.
Sweet, innocent Mrs. Markle.
"You need to leave," He said urgently, pushing himself off the couch, gripping the back of the couch as the world dipped and swirled around him.
"Easy, child." She said, reaching for his arm.
"Would you stop calling me that?" He snapped, trying not to let the panic bleed into his voice.
"If you tell me your name," She said evenly.
"It's Daniel, okay? Please go... just go..." He trailed off as darkness edged into his field of view.
"Daniel? Hold on, stay-"
He felt himself falling, then a sharp burst of pain in his knee, then nothing.
A/N: A wonderful comment over on A03 inspired me to write about 5,000 more words to the middle/end of this fic.
Moral: Your review can change the path of a story. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
:D