JodyMarie: How about… all of the above! (Ironically, this chapter was already drafted exactly like this- I guess we think the same!)
A dull, slightly annoying ache in his left shoulder. His head felt light, he wondered why it wasn't floating away. The rest of his body felt too heavy, almost like someone was sitting on him.
"There we go," A calm, quiet voice near his head said.
"Welcome back, Daniel. Can you open your eyes for me?"
A light touch on his face caused him to scrunch his eyes closed and pull away from the stimulus.
"Ah, you don't like that? Sorry, hon."
A warm, small hand slipped into his own and squeezed gently, then pressed down on his pointer finger.
"Open your eyes."
With great effort, he pried his eyes open.
He was lying on his side, near his front door, with Mrs. Markle kneeling by his head and gently holding his hand.
"Hello again," she said, resting her hand on his shoulder.
"Are you hurt? I wasn't able to break your fall in time."
He blinked, assessing his condition. His stomach still felt off, his head pounding fiercely. But he knew he didn't have a concussion.
"Just my stomach," He whispered, shocked at how weak his voice sounded.
"Alright. We can stay here as long as you need, Daniel. I'm going to grab a blanket off the couch."
She stood with more grace than an elderly woman should have and disappeared into the living room.
Daniel swallowed hard, then pushed himself up slowly, managing to get himself leaning heavily against the wall by the time Mrs. Markle returned.
"Daniel? Are you okay?" She asked worriedly, noting his pallor and slight green tinge.
"Yeah," He whispered into his knees, trying to hold the nausea back.
"Feeling sick?"
"Yeah," He said urgently, gripping his thighs tightly.
"I'll be right back." She disappeared around the corner, probably to get the bucket. He swallowed hard, begging his stomach not to force him through another unproductive round of heaves. His abdominal muscles already ached from the strain they'd been through.
Anne was back in a moment, placing the trash can beside him. Daniel closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, desperately fighting the nausea. After a minute, the undulating waves had eased slightly, and he opened his eyes.
"You don't have to stay here," he said, squinting at her.
Mrs. Markle smiled. "No, I don't. But I'm not going to leave you like this."
Daniel grunted acknowledgement and slowly stood on rubbery legs. Anne was quick to steady him when he swayed ominously, watching his face carefully for signs that he was about to pass out again.
They walked slowly back to the couch, only wobbling slightly on the step down into the living room. She sat him down, wrapped the blanket around him, then inserted a thermometer into his ear.
"Your fever is up to 101.8. Do you think you can take some Tylenol?"
He shrugged. "Please, get some sleep. I'll be fine."
"Okay," She said, taking a seat across from him.
"Who can I call to come here and help you?"
Jack.
He swallowed.
Not Jack. Not Sam. Not Teal'c.
"I'll be okay."
"I'm not leaving until you give me a name and a number."
"Please, just go home."
"I'm sorry Daniel, but you can't convince me you're going to be okay by passing out."
He sighed in defeat, then made to get up.
"Fine, but you don't have to cater to me."
"This is not catering, Daniel. This is caring for a neighbor- literally- who has a stomach bug and needs a little help caring for himself."
Too tired and nauseous to argue, Daniel sunk back into the couch. A minute later, Anne returned with one of his mugs, steaming with something that both made his stomach churn in protest and growl with hunger.
She smiled at the conflicted look on his face.
"It's chicken soup. Just try a little broth and see how that sits. There's also noodles, carrots, and chicken of course."
Daniel took the mug from her, and the warmth alone made the effort worth it. He didn't realize how damn cold he was.
Blowing slightly on the spoon, he sipped at the broth. It was good. Very good. A little salty, light, and easy on his upset digestive tract.
"Thank you," He said quietly.
She smiled. "It's no problem. Do you want help getting to bed in a little bit?"
Daniel frowned. "No. I'll be okay, you've done enough."
"I'm staying until morning, Daniel. Or until someone else you trust comes over here."
He sighed in frustration.
"Fine. Knock yourself out. I'll take my germs to bed."
Daniel set the mug on the coffee table, and walked as steadily down the hall as he could.
The second he was out of sight, stumbled towards the bathroom. He gripped the door frame, before digging around in a cabinet for Tylenol. Swallowing two dry, he lurched back down the hallway to the bedroom. He stopped cold.
The bed had been stripped, and then remade with clean sheets. Flipping on the light for a closer look, he realized that they weren't his. The carpet had been cleaned too.
Stunned, he plopped onto the bed, holding his aching head in his hands. Whatever he had, Mrs. Markle had been exposed. Thoroughly.
Who should he call? Hammond? And say what? Oh, by the way, I've got the worst stomach bug of my life- probably from an alien planet- that my elderly neighbor had been exposed to. When's a good time to bring her to the most secure, classified location on the face of the Earth for medical treatment?
Oh crap. He was going to throw up again. He swallowed the salty bile down, begging his stomach to settle, before a dry heave out of nowhere undid all his hard work.
He wrapped his left arm around his abdomen to brace it, then used his right to push himself up to standing. Repeating the same dizzying journey to the bathroom, Daniel closed the door, knelt in front of the bowl, and surrendered.
He lost the broth immediately, and the pills with it.
It was followed by stinging acid, which was followed by more bitter bile. He managed to snag a bottle of water from the cabinet under the sink and tried to rinse his mouth out between bouts. His shirt was stuck to his trembling body, and he was exhausted. Dizzy. Miserable.
He let a sob escape while he was draped over the toilet. The pitiful sound echoed back at him, mocking him. His stomach muscles quivered, warning him of the next wave, all Daniel could do was tightly wrap both arms around himself and let his body have its way with him.
He was so tired.
The mess he'd made swirled dizzyingly in the water below him. He wanted to curl back up in a ball, but that would require too much effort.
Daniel jumped and let out a coarse yell as a hand touched his back.
"I have you," Mrs. Markle soothed, catching him as he slumped bonelessly to the floor.
"I-I'm s-sorry," He whimpered, curling up around his sore stomach. "I c-can't s-stop,"
Her hand made its way to his forehead, feeling his temperature once more.
"You're panicking, Daniel. Breathe in and out with me."
He cried out as his stomach contracted again. He heaved violently, spit bile onto the floor, and sobbed harder.
His stomach hurt.
His head hurt.
His heart hurt.
"Sha're," he cried out, "please, come back,"
She was standing in a sand dune, beautiful white cloth billowing around her in the gentle breeze. It smelled of Abydos, of hot, dry sand.
He started towards her, but the ground seemed to swallow him up as he got closer, dragging him in, further and further. The last thing he saw was her turning away from him just as his head went under.
"Jack!"
o-O-o-O-o
Anne frowned as she heard the bathroom door close, and was on her feet as soon as the sounds of Daniel's distress reached her. She arrived at the poor man's side just as he collapsed from exhaustion. This time, she was able to gently lower his limp body to the floor.
He wasn't asleep- nor was he awake. Anne pressed her hand to his cheek, his fever was spiking rapidly.
His restless movements made her nervous- he was occasionally flailing a limb out as if trying to keep himself from falling. She'd caught his arms at least twice, to keep him from smacking into the wall or the toilet.
After lying on the floor for a minute, he began to thrash.
She knelt beside him and tried to protect his head from hitting the floor, when he suddenly arched back and cried out.
"Jack!"
His fever was still rising, and she knew she would have to call the paramedics if this went on for too much longer.
Anne knew that she would not be strong enough to haul him back into bed, or even into a cool bath, and he was too weak at that point to do either without significant assistance. She would have to make do on the bathroom floor until she could get some help.
However, as she drug in soft blankets and old towels to the bathroom, she realized he'd already given her enough.
Arranging the towels against the wall, tub, and toilet, she effectively created a soft barrier against anything hard or sharp. She rolled him onto his side, cushioning the linoleum with more blankets. Leaving him quickly, she found his landline. Next to the phone, there was a list taped to the desk, with four names: "Sam", "M", "Hammond", and "Jack".
She quickly dialed the name he'd given her, shooting a worried glance back towards the bathroom.
o-O-o-O-o
His phone was ringing.
Annoyingly.
He groped his bedside table for a moment before finding his cell.
Flipping it open, he glanced at the time before checking the caller ID.
"What could you possibly need at 4 in the morning, Daniel?" He asked sleepily.
"Is this Jack?" A very awake feminine voice answered.
Sitting upright, he flipped on the bedside lamp- and his guard.
"Who is this?"
"Anne Markle. I'm the next-door neighbor to a Daniel. I assume you know him?"
"Oh, yeah. What's goin' on?"
"He's quite sick right now. I was hoping for someone he knew to come over before I called 911."
Jack was already out of bed, and half-dressed by the time "sick" had left her mouth.
"Dammit, Daniel," He muttered, low enough that the phone didn't pick it up.
"What's he got going on?"
"I'm most worried about fever and dehydration. He's been vomiting for several hours, and his temperature just crept up over 103."
"Got it. I'm on my way."
A/N: Feedback & constructive criticism always welcome. Thanks for reading!