A/N: I do not own the characters in Murder, She Wrote, nor do I make a profit from writing fan fiction.
This is a multi-chapter story. I wrote this one before the two other stories I have already posted, but still working to finish it. I decided that since I have a number of chapters already though, that I would go ahead and start to post it. Please let me know what you think!
This is told from Jessica's POV, but in the first person, which is the style of the Murder, She Wrote books. I feel like it gives a little more insight into Jessica's character this way. I have been thinking about the fact that while most people think Jessica and Seth should have ended up together, because they were friends for some very long, it would have taken something traumatic, whether it be an illness or being in danger in a murder investigation for them to both wake up and realize how they really feel about each other. Call it a trope to keep going back to those two situations of them becoming vulnerable or not, but I think it's very entertaining to come up with ways in which that could have happened!
Something is wrong. I thought I just had a backache and came up to bed early, but this morning, I feel sick and as though I am bloated. But I ate very little yesterday. I just finished my writing deadline a few days ago and got the manuscript in the mail. So, it's definitely time to relax. I guess my body decided though that it would tell me how unhappy it was that I worked all hours of the day and night the last two weeks. After getting up at half past seven to go to the bathroom, instead of going down to start some coffee and greet the day, I head back to bed. Sipping some water from my glass on the bedside table and swallowing a couple of tylenol, I lay back down and am asleep within moments.
I wake midday and the sun is streaming into my room, hitting me in the face. I sit up quickly to get the sun out of my eyes, and my back protests mightily. I hear an odd sound, only to realize a few moments afterwards that the sound came from me. A cry of pain.
Hobbling to the window, I seek to close the blinds. Reaching for the handle on them, I'm shocked to see my hand shaking. I think I might have a fever. I definitely have chills. Going into the bathroom, I find a thermometer and discover that I have a fever of one hundred and one. I swallow some ibuprofen, but I know that I have to get something in my stomach or that ibuprofen will make me worse off.
Very carefully, I hold on to the stair rail, and take the stairs one at a time. Walking into the kitchen, I find some cheese and grapes and try to eat a handful, but even as I eat, I have a bad feeling that I won't be able to keep it down long. I grab a sheath of crackers as well, putting all the snacks in the pockets of my robe, so I can hold the rail again as I go back up to bed.
I barely made it to the bathroom, before what little I ate came back up.
I clean up as best as I can, and bring the trash bin back beside the bed in case I can't make it to the bathroom so quickly the next time.
I climb back into bed and I'm asleep quickly, but it is not a deep sleep, because I wake up multiple times, drenched in sweat and tossing, unable to get comfortable. My back is throbbing. I must have pulled something. Hopefully if I can just rest and sleep, I will be okay. Although I don't understand why I would have a fever as well.
I'm not sure what time it is, but when I awaken, it appears to be twilight, although with the blinds mostly closed, it is hard to tell. Something woke me, but I'm not sure what.
And then I hear him.
Seth.
"Jessica? Are you home?"
I hear him walking around downstairs. I try to call out for him, knowing that if ever I needed a doctor, now is probably the time, even though I will be embarrassed for him to see me this way.
But my voice is hoarse and I'm not sure if he heard me.
Afraid that he will leave, thinking I have gone out, I do the only thing I can think of, and I pick up the book on my bedside table, and throw it, hitting the chair beside my bed.
He calls for me again, but this time, I hear him climb the stairs.
Like the gentleman he is, he knocks on my door.
"Jessica? Are you alright? I thought I heard something."
"Seth. Please come in," I whisper.
The door opens and even though I can just make out his form from the hall light behind him from within my darkened room, I recognize his alarm immediately.
In two paces, he is by the bed, turning the lamp on, causing me to wince from the sudden light in my eyes.
"Jessica, you're burning up," he says as he reaches out to touch my forehead and the sides of my face. His hands are cool and feel soothing. I want to tell him not to stop. But I can't get the words to form.
Being the doctor that he is though, he dispenses with formality, and begins to pull my sheets back, reaching for my wrist to feel my pulse at the same time.
"Jess, I'm going out to my car to get my bag." He must see my fright, because he assures me he will be right back.
I start to nod off before he does, but jolt back awake, when he pulls my reading chair over to my bedside. He starts by taking my blood pressure. Taking my temperature and muttering at the reading, he gets his stethoscope, and listens to my heart and lungs.
"How long have you been sick, Jess?"
"Since last night. My back hurts."
"That was your only symptom?"
I nod.
"But then, this morning, I had a fever and I felt bloated. I took some ibuprofen though and ate a little bit, but I couldn't keep it down."
"Does your back still hurt?"
"Terribly."
He stands, pulling the sheets further down. My pajamas are twisted and damp from sweat. I would feel embarrassed if I had the energy.
"If I help you to sit up, can you show me where your back hurts?"
"I think so."
Giving me his hand, he pulls me forward, and props my pillows up behind me.
Again, I hear a cry and am disconcerted to realize belatedly that it is from me.
He raises the back of my pajamas to look at my spine, and I reach to show him the left lower side that hurts so badly.
Carefully, he touches that area and I wince in pain.
He helps me lay back down, again rearranging the pillows.
"Did I pull something?"
"It's possible, but I don't think so."
"So, what is it?"
"It's possible that you have a kidney infection or possibly a kidney stone. We will need to get you to the hospital for an ultrasound to know for sure."
"Seth, I'm not going to the hospital."
"Woman, if I decide you need to, you will go."
We stare at each other. I can be just as stubborn as him.
"But." And he pauses, as though he is not quite sure how to say the next part.
"But, Jess, when was the last time you went to the gynecologist?"
"Dr. Hanson retired a few years ago. I haven't been since."
"What?"
"I'm past menopause. I haven't had any problems."
"You are a woman, Jess, and women's health is important at any age."
I roll my eyes.
Again, a long pause.
"Jess, I want to feel your abdomen and see if anything is sensitive. Is that alright?"
I nod.
He raises up my shirt enough to see my belly. I still feel so bloated. Glancing down, I look bloated, too. I don't know why.
He begins to feel very gently and everything is fine, until he gets to the lower left side, and I almost come off the bed in pain.
His face takes on a seriousness that makes me worry, as he murmurs, "Jess, you need a pelvic exam. You have two choices, I can do one here and now. Or I can take you to the hospital and get one of the internal medicine docs to exam you. But you need one and you need one now.'
My face grows red, but I tell him again that I'm not going to the hospital.
He nods, knowing I would say that.
I trust Seth implicitly. He is my best friend and he is the best doctor I know. But I can not believe this is happening.
He gets several small towels from the bathroom, and begins to lay out instruments on the bed beside me, prepping.
I see the speculum and the bottle of lube and the gloves and all the other items he will need for whatever it is he is about to do.
He gets his small bright light that attaches on his glasses to see, before turning back to me, and says, "Okay, I'm ready. I'm going to put a couple of pillows underneath you to prop you up."
He pulls those from the other side of the bed. I try to lift myself in the air, but I don't have the strength. He lifts me effortlessly and scoots two pillows beneath me, with a towel spread over top of them.
"Medical protocol would demand that I leave the room for a minute and allow you to disrobe and get under a sheet, but if you couldn't lift yourself just now, am I correct in assuming that you need help getting your pajama bottoms off?"
I nod, knowing that my face is becoming beet red.
It's his turn to nod, but then he gets his serious doctor face on, as I know he is compartmentalizing his emotions now. Even so, his touch is gentle, as he reaches to untie my pants, sliding them down my legs, with my underwear right behind them.
As I feel cold air on the lower half of my body, my skin prickles with a chill. He must notice, but doesn't comment, as he reaches for another towel to cover me with, while still exposing me to his work.
He sits down on the chair right next to the bed in an effort to see, turning the bright light on attached to his glasses. Putting the gloves on, I see him reach for the speculum and the lube, setting it between my legs, as he reaches to carefully position my legs far enough apart for him to see, without the right one slipping off the bed.
"Do you want me to tell you what I'm doing as I do it, or just do it?"
"Just do it."
He nods again.
I hear him open the lube and then, I feel the cold of the speculum and his hands move quickly as he gets it in place. It is uncomfortable per usual, but expected. He looks closely through it trying to determine the source of my pain apparently, before then reaching for the swab to do a pap smear. I feel the motion of the swab scraping, and wince, but stay still. The speculum is removed and then Seth leans forward over me slightly, as he reaches inside me with a couple of fingers on one hand, and places his other hand on top of my pelvic area, pushing up with his fingers to feel my uterus and ovaries. He pauses before touching my left ovary, as we somehow both know the pain will be unbearable, and it is. I know he is doing what he needs to but the agony I feel is unbelievable, as even with my eyes tightly closed in an effort to ignore what is happening in this moment, I feel hot tears begin to flow down my cheeks and a deep groan leaves my mouth.
He removes his hands, and immediately takes off his gloves, and then helps me dress again. Sitting down on the chair beside me, he looks even more worried.
"Jess."
Getting my tears under control, I open my eyes and look at him.
He has tears in his eyes, as he says, "Jess," once again.
I wait.
"You have a mass on your left ovary. I have to take you to the hospital and you have to have surgery. Tonight."
Despite all my prior arguing, I know I can't argue with him now. He looks as scared as I feel. When I don't argue, he asks, "Do you want me to help you dress, or would you be alright putting a robe over your pajamas? I can pack a small bag for you if you will tell me what you need."
"I can just wear my robe." My decision to do so, surprises us both, as we both are rather proper, but I just don't have the energy to change clothes, even with assistance.
He finds my robe hanging on the back of my door and helps me sit up and put my arms through it. Then, I tell him where my overnight bag is and I direct him what to take out of my dresser and what toiletries I need from the bathroom. In less than ten minutes, we are both packed up and Seth helps me carefully walk down the stairs. Walking me to his car, he opens the door, and helps me inside.
Arriving at the hospital a few minutes later, he helps me enter through the emergency room, asking one of his orderlies who know him well to first get me a wheelchair and then to park his car. He does not stop at admissions, but instead wheels me back to triage and immediately finds me a vacant room and his favorite nurse, Bernie. Thankfully, she is able to help me into the hospital gown, basically doing it for me, instead of having to have another awkward encounter with Seth.
Despite dehydration, Bernie gets my IV started on the first try. Seth orders several drugs for her to start in the IV, and leaves the room, but not before telling me he will be right back.
"That Doc Hazlitt, he is something else, isn't he?" Bernie says as she bustles back in with the medications. "Okay, dear, he ordered you some oral Valium to relax along with Tramadol in the IV for pain. Looks like once you go back for surgery, you will also get some antibiotics, but these two drugs will help you right now."
"Thank you, Bernie."
"Of course, Mrs. Fletcher."
Just as Bernie is leaving, Seth comes in with a female tech who is pushing an ultrasound machine.
"Jess, I need an ultrasound so we aren't going in blindly. Sharon will get a reading for me and they are getting the OR ready now. When Sharon is done, we will get this out of you."
"You're going to do the surgery, right, Seth?"
"Yes, of course. Unless…Jess, you aren't comfortable with me doing it?"
"Nothing could be further from the truth. I wouldn't trust anyone else with my life."
Seth's mouth twists as though he is struggling not to be overcome with emotion, but instead of saying anything, he reaches to squeeze my hand tightly, before ducking out.
Having the ultrasound was again horribly painful, as it was internal and pushing up directly against whatever mass Seth felt. But it was over quickly and thankfully, once it was, the pain seemed better, as though the medications were starting to kick in.
Seth came in with the anesthesiologist, and Seth explained the consent form before I signed. I will lose the ovary and possibly all my other reproductive organs, but as they never worked for the purposes that they were intended for anyway and I am far too old for them to suddenly start to, it does not seem like a great loss anymore.
No one has said the "C" word, but it is obvious that is what everyone is worried about, including me.
Seth asks the attending doctor and Bernie to leave the room, before pulling the chair over to sit right next to me.
"Jess, I promise to take good care of you. We will get through this. With me here beside you the whole way through. Alright?"
I look at this man, who is the kindest and gentlest man I have ever known and I am overcome with emotion and feelings that I have never addressed, but one thing is clear for the very first time. Or perhaps I have known it for years, as I suspect I have, but just never allowed myself to address it before, always somehow worried that I would sully Frank's memory by falling in love again. Call it being morbid and feeling like this may be my last opportunity to say the words, but I can't stop myself. Nor do I want to anymore.
"Seth? Seth…I love you. And I…think you love me. So, if I get through this, I think we need to talk about it, because I don't want to deny it anymore."
Seth looks at me in wonder, not quite believing what he is hearing, but he suddenly smiles more than I believed possible, even as I know he is terrified of what he will find in the operating room.
"Jess, I do. I love you very much. And yes, I would like to talk about it soon."
With that, he leans down and carefully places a gentle kiss on my mouth. When he pulls away, he pauses a few inches from my face, looking into my eyes, whispers, "I will see you soon, Jess."
I nod, as he moves to stand up, squeezing my hand one last time, before leaving the room.
Half an hour later, I am wheeled into the operating room, feeling Seth touch my shoulder briefly, as he whispers for only me to hear, "It will all be okay. I promise."
The anesthesiologist tells me when he is administering the local, and I don't even have time to start to count backwards before everything is dark.
