Day 23 – Coughing Fit

Dietrich's first couple of days in Wyoming after leaving England were pleasant. He was glad to be more active after having spent the last few days helping care for Moffitt while he recovered from bronchitis. He didn't mind working alongside Troy and Shauna for long hours on the ranch, and figured the work was why he was a bit more lethargic than usual at the end of his second day there.

"You feeling okay?" Troy asked when Dietrich headed upstairs to the guest bedroom. "It's only eight o'clock."

"I am alright," Dietrich said. "Just worn out."

He expected Troy to question him further, but instead, Troy shrugged, and went back to reading.

Just get some rest and you will be alright in the morning, Dietrich thought while getting in bed. He was tired enough to fall asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

He awoke in the morning feeling as though he had tried to swallow sandpaper. His chest felt tight and somewhat heavy, and he was overall unpleasantly warm. The sunlight spilling in through the curtains was oddly uncomfortable, and he winced while turning over in bed. That slight movement forced a few dry coughs from him, which did nothing to get the sandpaper out of his throat. He lay in bed for another few moments, hoping that waking up further would help. Instead, he was just becoming more and more aware of his symptoms.

You have got to be kidding me. Dietrich tried drawing in a breath, only to be rudely stopped by coughing. I think I have what Moffitt had. Oh, Troy cannot find out about this. I would be alright anywhere else, but not here. Not with Sergeant Mother Hen!

Dietrich knew hiding his illness wouldn't be easy, but he was willing to try if it meant not being pestered every minute.

It was tempting to stay in his nightclothes, but put regular clothes on anyway to try and assist with the illusion that he was well. He went out into the hallway to find that Troy and Shauna were still in their bedroom, but he could hear them opening and closing drawers and closets. As quietly as he could, Dietrich went downstairs to the kitchen.

The last thing he wanted was to be coughing all day. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a jar of honey. He enjoyed honey on its own, but he also knew it was a good remedy for a sore throat. Perfect excuse to indulge. Just a little. He opened the jar, and started pouring spoonful after spoonful out. He was quick to close the jar and put it back when he heard someone coming downstairs.

"Good morning, Hans," Shauna said. "You're up early. How are you?"

"I am… alright. Thank you for asking," Dietrich replied. The honey had helped his throat, but he didn't want to push it.

"Did you have breakfast?"

"Uh… no, not yet. I just came down here."

"We'll do something simple today. Eggs and toast. I even bought a fresh jar of honey for you." Shauna placed the butterdish on the table, then went to the cabinet where the honey was kept. "Wait… I just bought this."

Dietrich kept his focus on the coffeemaker. Oh. Oh, no. Oh, I am in deep—

"Hans Dietrich, please explain this." Shauna showed him the half-empty honey jar.

"I… well… may have… had a…" Think quickly, you fool! "A… A-A midnight snack."

"Midnight snack indeed!" Shauna waved the jar in Dietrich's face. "You little piglet! Shame on you! Eating all the honey. I was going to make cinnamon rolls for you!"

"What's going on?" Troy asked as he entered the kitchen.

"Look at what he did!" Shauna showed Troy the jar. "He ate half of this already in the dead of night!"

Troy folded his arms over his chest. "Dietrich, is that true?"

Dietrich refused to look away from the coffeemaker. "Maybe?"

"Don't lie, Winnie the Pooh!" Shauna snapped. She cursed under her breath before muttering, "Just bought the bloody thing and it's half gone."

"Can I offer an apology, Shauna?"

Shauna sighed. "Fine. Apology accepted, but if you do this again, you're buying a new one."

Dietrich allowed relief to come over him after Shauna dropped the subject. Better this than them figuring out I am not well. He hoped he could keep the charade up until he went home.

Acting as normal as possible was proving difficult. It was still early in the day, and Dietrich felt like he had already been working several hours. He wasn't nauseated, but he had no desire to eat. If I play that off as my depression, Troy and Shauna will still worry. The goal is for them not to worry. Despite having no appetite, Dietrich ate like he normally would, and had two cups of coffee in a vain attempt to try and wake himself up.

He felt like he was just prolonging the inevitable. When the group headed outside, Dietrich offered to complete a task where he could work alone. Fortunately, Troy didn't seem to think much of it.

It really didn't help that it was the middle of autumn and bitterly cold. The freezing air made him feel worse, and it was absurdly dry. Apart from the house, there was nowhere Dietrich could go to escape the cold, and he was determined to keep Troy or Shauna from suspecting something was wrong. He hid in the garage, and quickly realized that wasn't a good idea. Why does Troy never sweep in here? Dietrich thought, cursing under his breath.

After a lengthy coughing fit, Dietrich left the garage, and hid along the eastern wall of the garage, facing toward one of the larger cattle pastures. He hugged himself, shivering and wincing with each pulse of pain in his chest. The effects of the honey were long over, leaving Dietrich to contend once more with the feeling of choking on sandpaper. Moffitt did tell you that he did not want you getting sick… now look.

There were still things to do. Simple things, but those simple things seemed more laborious and exhausting than they should have been. The cold air stung his face, and his nose had started running. After finishing his tasks, Dietrich found Troy and Shauna to let them know it was done. He tried hard to walk straight and maintain his posture. Just play it off as being cold. Play it off as being cold. Play it off as—

"You okay, Dietrich?" Troy asked. "You don't look so good."

"Perfectly f-fine, Troy," Dietrich replied. He struggled to suppress a shiver.

"You sure?" Troy raised an eyebrow. "Your face is red and you look like you need a tissue."

"Well, it is quite cold out—" There was nothing Dietrich could do to stop another coughing fit. Trying to breathe and inhaling more cold, dry air made it worse, prolonging his fit. He could feel energy draining with each cough, and the coughs themselves grew weaker and weaker as the fit finally reached its end.

Troy didn't say a word as he walked over, put his arm around Dietrich's shoulders, and started walking him back to the house. "Come on. Let's get you inside and warmed up. You're sick, aren't you?"

Dietrich tried to respond, but all that came out was another cough and a moan.

Troy helped him out of his jacket and boots before letting Dietrich lie down on the couch. He draped a blanket over the skinny German. "You want me to get you anything, buddy?"

Dietrich wasn't too fond of being touched at the moment, but instead of a glare, he winced with pain as Troy touched his forehead. A headache blossomed rather quickly when another fit of coughing gripped him.

"You really are sick," Troy said.

"You think?" Dietrich groaned.

"I'll be right back. Getting Shauna." Troy dashed out of the house.

One part of me wants to be left alone… another does not. Dietrich sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as his headache seemed to swell behind them.

"…What do you think he has?" Shauna asked as she and Troy entered the house.

"He's feverish and he's got a really dry cough," Troy said. "Could be anything."

"And this just happened out of nowhere?"

"He came over all red in the face and his nose was running like a faucet."

"He seemed fine this morning!" Shauna was next to feel Dietrich's forehead. "Oh, you poor thing. I'll make you a cup of tea. Sam, get the hot water bottle. He must be freezing."

Within minutes, Dietrich having more blankets thrown on him, a hot water bottle placed on him, and tea and the world's most unpleasant-tasting cough syrup poured down his throat. It was tempting to get upset with Troy and Shauna, but something was telling him not to—nor did he have the energy. He simply lay them and let them take care of him. He wanted to hate it, especially since he felt like the Rats had spent enough time trying to take care of him, but on the other hand, he doubted he would have done all this on his own. Being sick on your own is not exactly pleasant, Dietrich thought. His headache subsided enough to where he felt he could glance up when Shauna started stroking his hair. It was hard to hate it when it felt good.

"How's he doing?" Troy asked, leaning over the back of the couch.

"He looks miserable, Sam," Shauna said.

"He always looks miserable, sweetheart."

"Troy?" Dietrich muttered.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"I'll take that as a sign you're not too far gone." Troy grinned at him, but the grin faded. "Be honest, Dietrich, did this suddenly come on, or were you hiding it?"

Dietrich sighed, and temporarily focused on the strangely soothing feeling of Shauna massaging his scalp. "I… hid it. I woke up this morning feeling awful. I think I caught Moffitt's bronchitis."

"Aww, Hans!" Shauna gently hugged him. "If your throat hurt, that would explain why half the honey disappeared. Why didn't you say something? Now I just feel bad for getting angry with you."

Dietrich wasn't sure he appreciated being lifted up and hugged in a similar manner to a ragdoll. "Because you and Troy would fuss… just like you are now."

"Well, if you had just been honest from the start, maybe we'd be a little less fussy," Troy said.

"Sam, that's not helpful." Shauna glared at him. She turned her attention back to Dietrich. "You mean a lot to us, and we want to help you get well, sweetie."

"I… understand that." Dietrich sighed again when Shauna kissed his forehead. "Could I take a nap, please?"

"You can." Shauna let him go.

Much to Dietrich's surprise, he had been left alone for his nap. When he awoke, he saw that someone had left the jar of honey and a spoon on the coffee table. He hesitated, but eventually gave in and took the jar.

He would never admit it, but he found himself glad that he had gotten sick here.