Day 16 – Alt. Prompt: Pounding Headache

Dietrich wasn't quite sure what to do now that a headache-besieged Troy was lying on the couch. It surprisingly hadn't been difficult to get him there in the first place, which gave Dietrich the impression that it must be an awful headache.

Getting Troy a little more comfortable would be a start.

Dietrich reached down to take Troy's hat off. He hadn't had many opportunities to handle Troy's signature headgear, so he studied it with great interest before hanging it up by the coat tree near the door. Once the hat was removed, Dietrich went back over to the couch and put his hands on his hips. Determining the cause of Troy's headache would go a long way. That would be tricky—one moment, Dietrich had been assisting Troy with caring for his horses. The next, Troy had collapsed in a heap by the horses' water without warning, and Dietrich wasted no time in picking him up and carrying him back to the house.

What a mystery to be had, Dietrich thought. He left the semi-conscious Troy in the living room while going back outside and looking for Troy's wife, Shauna. No other human being on Earth understood the enigma that was Troy better than her.

Dietrich found Shauna washing feed buckets near the garage. He swallowed nervously, knowing she wouldn't be happy to learn of her husband passing out for an unexplained reason, but he was determined to help. "Pardon me, Shauna, but, do you have a moment?"

"What do you need, Hans?" Shauna asked.

"Well… Troy… may have fainted in the horse barn."

The only sound apart from the breeze was the light squeaking of the hose being turned off.

"Sam did what?" Shauna said.

"He passed out in the horse barn."

"Is he still in the horse barn?"

"No. I carried him to the house."

"Is he overheated?"

"He is quite warm. He was complaining of a headache before we started working, but insisted—in between complaints, mind you—that he was 'fine.'"

"Well, we both know 'fine' is a load of malarkey with Sam."

"Indeed. No need to worry, though, I will do my best to try and remedy this."

"That means we need to figure out what caused him to collapse."

"I have a feeling his headache is directly connected to that."

"I was just about to say that. He seemed alright this morning when we woke up."

"The complaints started not too long after you headed out to take care of the chickens."

"Did Sam have breakfast?"

"He had a cup of coffee and cereal."

"Did he put milk in his cereal?"

"I have no idea." Dietrich raised an eyebrow. "Wait, Troy does not put milk in his cereal?"

"It depends on the day. I've seen him eat dry raisin bran."

"Who the hell eats dry raisin bran?"

"Apparently, Sam does. Are you surprised?"

"No, but…" Dietrich sighed and rubbed his face. "Anyway, I did not look to see if he put milk in his cereal."

"He might be dehydrated, then. You two went out to the bar last night—did he drink any water?"

"No. Just beer."

"And he had no milk, water, or orange juice when you both came home or this morning?"

"Not that I saw."

"Great." Shauna sighed.

"I had best start giving him water right away, then."

"Yes. Get to it."

Dietrich nodded in acknowledgement of Shauna's instruction before turning on his heels and running back to the house. Once he was inside, he was greatly tempted to point out to Troy that it was incredibly hypocritical how Troy lectured him about taking care of himself, while Troy was about as inept at caring for himself at times. But that would not be very helpful, would it, Hans? No. Not in the slightest. Dietrich let out a heavy sigh while filling a glass with water. He brought it over to Troy, and a pang of pity pierced him upon noticing the somewhat shallow rising and falling of Troy's chest.

Dietrich stopped. He remembered from his first visit to Troy's ranch that suddenly introducing a glass of water could send Troy into a panic, as that was used to torture him while he was briefly a prisoner in a sadistic German colonel's camp during the war. I have to get him to drink somehow. Dietrich set the glass on the coffee table and tried propping Troy upright.

"Stop it," Troy murmured.

"Troy, you are dehydrated. You need to drink water," Dietrich said.

"Not dehydrated… got a headache."

"You have a headache because you are dehydrated."

"I don't know."

Dietrich let out his breath. "Troy, please, listen to me. You are dehydrated, you need to drink."

Troy turned away from him. "Head hurts," he moaned.

Dietrich frantically tried to think of something that would alleviate Troy's headache long enough for him to have the sense to drink water on his own. He went into the kitchen, and pulled a tray of ice cubes from the freezer. He doubted an ice cube would cause Troy to react negatively, so he placed a single cube onto a spoon, and carried it over to the couch. Despite the ice cube in the beginning stages of melting, Dietrich was slow and gentle while opening Troy's mouth. He put the spoon in, and maneuvered the ice onto Troy's tongue before pulling the spoon out and closing his friend's mouth.

You know what else might work? Put a straw in the glass. Dietrich put the spoon in the sink before rummaging around the kitchen for a straw. How can you be this irresponsible, Troy? I should just make you drink and teach you a lesson. No, no, no, I should not, because that would not actually help. He found a pack of straws in a drawers, and brought one out to the living room.

The water had warmed a little. Dietrich pondered changing it out for colder water. Just do it. No, it is perfectly fine! Change the water, you heartless idiot! Do you want Troy to feel better or not? Dietrich took the glass back to the kitchen. Instead of changing the water, he opened the freezer and got the ice cube tray back out. He paused upon seeing a container of ice cream.

Absolutely not. I draw the line at feeding Troy unless it is absolutely necessary. The ice cube was necessary. Dietrich closed the freezer. He dropped a few ice cubes into the glass, then put the tray back in the freezer. With another heavy sigh, Dietrich brought the water out, complete with ice and a straw, and sat on the edge of the couch to attempt administering the water.

Troy was still warm to the touch. Dietrich shifted him further upright so the water didn't spill. He was gentle again while putting the straw past Troy's teeth. "Please, Troy, drink it," Dietrich muttered. "Do not make me force it, please."

Dietrich breathed a sigh of relief when Troy finally began drinking the water. It took another minute or two, but Troy managed to regain a little more consciousness. "Thanks, Dietrich," he said.

"Thank me when you finish the glass," Dietrich replied.

"No, I'm good, now."

"Uh, no, you are going to finish this, or I will tell Shauna."

"Why?"

"'Why?' You are dehydrated and you need this."

"Dietrich—"

"You did the same thing to me a month ago! What makes you think you can barge into my house, lecturing me about how I need to take care of myself, when you can barely do the same?!" Dietrich stopped, immediately regretting everything he was saying. He slumped in his seat. "Forgive me, I… suppose I understand why you and the others become so frustrated with me whenever I slip back into… old habits."

Troy reached over to squeeze Dietrich's shoulder. "You're forgiven."

"Should I be, though? I am shouting at you for no reason while you are lying there with a splitting headache."

"I'm not lying here. I'm sitting up."

Dietrich bit his tongue. "You must be feeling better if you are being a smartass."

"Not quite. My head still hurts, just not nearly as bad."

"Then keep drinking your water, and rest. Please."

"Yes, Captain."

Dietrich sighed. "I do not go by that anymore—"

"Yes, buddy."

"Troy?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and rest, please." Dietrich didn't move until Troy finished the water in his glass. The ice was still somewhat solid, and Dietrich figured Troy needed more water anyway, so he refilled the glass. When he set the glass back on the coffee table, Dietrich noticed Troy squeezing his eyes shut and wincing a little as he lay back down on the couch. A pang of sympathy nagged at Dietrich until he went upstairs to the bathroom, soaked a washcloth in cold water, and wrung it out. He brought it downstairs and placed it on Troy's forehead.

Troy's expression relaxed. "Thanks, Dietrich."

Dietrich reached down and gently ruffled Troy's hair before heading outside to let Shauna know that her husband—and his friend—was going to be okay.