Day 21 – "But if you stay, you'll get sick, too."

Dietrich wasn't about to cancel his visit just because Moffitt was sick. After all, the Rats had done a lot for him over the years. It was time to return the favor.

At least Moffitt was both a good patient, and sick with a mild chest cold. Nothing messy. Dietrich wasn't too sure whether or not to believe Vanora when she said Moffitt was only sick because he didn't wear a coat, but Dietrich didn't feel it was his place to argue.

Vanora and Anah decided to take advantage of Dietrich being there to go out for a few hours and take care of some errands, leaving the skinny German in charge of Moffitt. The house was quiet as Dietrich hung up his jacket and left his boots by the door. He walked softly over to the sitting room, and peered inside. The smell of tea was quite strong, as was the smell of vapor rub and cough syrup. He could see Moffitt lying on the couch, wearing his bathrobe, covered in blankets, and reading a book.

Dietrich rapped his knuckles against the side of the doorway, getting Moffitt's attention.

Moffitt turned to face him. "Oh, hello—" Using his voice plunged him into a coughing fit. "Sorry," he rasped.

"No need to apologize," Dietrich said. "Try not to strain your voice."

Moffitt took a sip of tea. "I'm alright."

Dietrich frowned. "Right. Anyway, Vanora and Anah left for the day, so do not hesitate to ask me for anything."

"Are you sure you want to even be here, Dietrich?" Moffitt asked. "I don't want you getting sick, too."

"It would be cruel to leave you without help if you needed it. Besides, I would like to return the favor for all you and the others have done for me. I… would not even be here right now if you did not help me after the war."

Moffitt sighed while smiling. "Alright. You can stay. There's not much I'd like you to do, though."

"Perhaps I can refill your tea?"

"This cup was just poured."

"Get you a cough lozenge?"

Moffitt nodded. "Thanks, Dietrich. They're in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom."

As he headed to the bathroom to retrieve the cough drops, Dietrich was certain that this visit would be pleasant despite Moffitt's condition. So far, Moffitt was cooperative, still lying down, and polite. Much better than Troy! Dietrich took the whole bag of lozenges, and brought them out to Moffitt. He even took one out of the bag and unwrapped it. "Here you are."

"Thank you." Moffitt sat up to take the lozenge, but had to pause to cough. He then took the lozenge, and settled back down.

"Perhaps some humidity would be of benefit to you," Dietrich said. "Your cough sounds drier than the heart of the Sahara."

Moffitt weakly gestured to his tea. "That's partly what this is for." He nestled further under the blankets. "You can sit down, Dietrich. I don't need anything else right now."

Dietrich pulled out the chair from Moffitt's desk, and sat, turning to face the sick, lanky Englishman. He looked over his shoulder out the window to see snow beginning to fall.

"So," Moffitt said, "how are things with you?"

"Quite well, actually," Dietrich replied. "I am confident my garden will survive this winter. For once."

"That's good. This autumn has shaped up to be extremely miserable for me. I was supposed to accompany my father to Algeria this week, but I had to cancel because of my cold."

"My apologies."

"Oh, that's alright. I probably have been pushing myself a little too hard anyway."

"Perhaps you should take a trip to southern Bavaria and spend some time in the mountains."

"You think that would work?"

"I am inclined to think so. A bit of fresh mountain air could do you some good."

"I'll take you up on that offer someday." Moffitt shivered. "Perhaps in the summertime."

"I was about to recommend that."

"A hot and humid tropical beach would be nice right about now."

"Are you sure you do not want me to get anything to help? I think you will rest easier."

"Dietrich, you're visiting. You shouldn't be playing nurse to me."

"I insist."

Moffitt sighed. "Oh, alright. What do you have in mind?"

"I could prepare a soup, or maybe a warm dessert that will be easy on your throat."

"Go ahead. Make whatever you want. I trust you in my kitchen."

The snow was coming down heavier as Dietrich went back out to the kitchen. He looked out the window, noting how the snow was sticking to the ground and creating a blanket of white over the brown grass. He heard Moffitt coughing in the sitting room, and set to work making a soup with whatever he could find in the refrigerator and cabinets. Even with Moffitt's permission, Dietrich was determined not to make a mess.

Dietrich didn't want the soup to be nothing more than broth—Moffitt needed more in terms of sustenance. As he began adding chicken and potatoes to the base, he heard Moffitt go into a particularly hard coughing fit. When it ended, he heard Moffitt rasp weakly, "Dietrich?"

"Do you need something?" Dietrich asked, peering into the sitting room.

"Could you get a hot water bottle, please?"

Dietrich noticed Moffitt's eyes were looking a bit glassy with fever. "Of course I can. Where do you keep yours?"

"Bathroom. Under the sink."

Dietrich threw another blanket on top of the shivering Moffitt before running off to the bathroom and locating the hot water bottle. He was quick to get the bottle warmed up, while also paying attention to the soup on the stove. The soup wasn't ready yet, but Dietrich lowered the heat so it didn't burn while he brought the hot water bottle out to Moffitt. "Where do you want it?"

"I… don't know. I'm cold all over."

Dietrich frantically tried to decide, and ultimately chose to lift the blanket at the other end of the couch and press the hot water bottle against Moffitt's socks. "That should help. Hopefully."

"Thanks."

Dietrich waited a moment before going back out to the kitchen. Moffitt had become quiet, and his trembling had mostly stopped. I think it is safe to guess that he has bronchitis, Dietrich thought.

He returned to the sitting room with a bowl of soup. "Here. Let me know if this is too much."

Moffitt nodded instead of vocalizing his thanks. Dietrich waited until he was sitting upright and not coughing before giving him the soup. "Thanks, Dietrich," Moffitt managed to say. His voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry my voice is—"

"Then do not speak," Dietrich said. "Rest."

"Okay."

"No talking. Just rest."

Moffitt obeyed. Dietrich felt bad for him, but a small part of him was still grateful that Moffitt was a much more cooperative patient than Troy would ever be.

Dietrich covered the soup that Moffitt couldn't finish and put it in the refrigerator, then went back to the sitting room. Moffitt still looked cold, even with his robe, three blankets, and the hot water bottle. His coughing had subsided a little, and he didn't talk for a while. Dietrich sat nearby, wondering what more he could do.

The silence was broken by Moffitt moaning, "Is Vanora home yet?"

"No, not yet," Dietrich said. "What do you need?"

"Don't know. Is… Is she ever coming home?"

"Yes. She will come home."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He is confused because of his fever, poor man. Dietrich moved the chair over by the couch. "You are not alone. I will take care of you until Vanora comes home, alright?"

"Need Vanora…" Moffitt murmured. "Need… Vanora…"

"Shh…" Dietrich touched Moffitt's forehead. "She will be home soon."

"Can't… Can't… f-find…" Moffitt turned onto his side, facing away from Dietrich. "Head hurts…"

Dietrich moved the chair a little closer. Bad dreams, probably.

Moffitt's moaning gradually became less and less coherent. Dietrich stayed near, occasionally getting up in order to pull some of the blankets off when Moffitt left the chills stage and began groaning about it being too hot. He was reluctant to leave even to get a cold compress, but eventually did. He was glad he did, as that seemed to help Moffitt settle down a little.

Dietrich left one other time to make himself a cup of hot chocolate. He was glad Moffitt finally stopped tossing and turning and moaning, and that he looked to finally be sleeping. Dietrich set his mug down and began putting the blankets and hot water bottle back on when it looked like Moffitt was getting cold again. As Dietrich took the now dry compress off, Moffitt stirred a little, and looked up at the skinny German with half-lidded and bloodshot gray eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Dietrich asked. "Say nothing if your throat still hurts."

Moffitt stretched a little. "I'm feeling… somewhat better."

"Good. Would you like me to get you anything?"

"Is Vanora—"

No sooner had Moffitt started asking did Vanora enter the house, calling, "Hello!"

Moffitt started trying to get up, and Dietrich gently pushed him back on the couch, saying, "I will bring her to you."

"Please do," Moffitt said.

Dietrich stood, and went out to the kitchen, seeing Vanora hanging up her jacket.

"Something smells wonderful," Vanora said. "Did you cook?"

"I did," Dietrich replied. "Your husband wants you."

"How is he?"

"Doing a little better. He had a fever not that long ago and was calling for you."

"Oh, Jack." A guilty look crossed Vanora's face. "I don't think I should ever leave the house again while he's sick." She took off her shoes, then went into the sitting room.

Moffitt sat up when he saw his wife, and was immediately enveloped in a hug. Dietrich stood in the doorway, letting them have their moment. He couldn't help but smile when Moffitt did as well, and felt like he was well on his way to giving back all that had been given to him.