Julia proves that an old cliché is true. (Prompt: 025 Flu)

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The Worst Patients

Opening her eyes was an effort, and focusing them was even harder. Something was terribly wrong. Julia knew that. But she couldn't figure out what it was. Nor could she even figure out where she was.

What happened to me?

A soft sound intruded into her awareness. Voices. Blinking her eyes hard, she turned onto her side and tried to focus her gaze again. This time, she was able to make out a knot of blue and brown near the far corner of the tent. People. Talking about her?

Oh, no. She had been found out. Something must've given her secret communications with the Council away. That explained why her arms and legs were bound.

Trying to stay quiet, she struggled against the bindings. If she could just work her way loose…

No such luck. One of the figures detached itself from the group in the corner and rushed over to her. "Julia. Stop. Don't get out of bed. It's not safe."

"I'll be fine," she muttered. "Just untie me. I'll leave."

"You're not going anywhere, and besides, you're not tied down."

Not restrained? It was certainly what she would have done, had her position and the rest of the Advance team's been reversed.

"Those are blankets, Julia." The figure leaned over her and tucked them back in. "You've been sick. Do you know where you are?"

There was a sudden rush of vertigo, and she closed her eyes and quit fighting for the moment. But this wouldn't be too hard to wiggle out of later, would it? "Med tent."

"Good. Now, do you remember what happened?"

"Caught me."

"No."

The words panicked her. Had she just given herself away? Taking advantage of the adrenaline that was overcoming the vertigo, she tried to push the covers off again.

"Julia, stop it. That was settled months ago."

That statement made no sense. "You put me back under hibernation?"

"No. You've been sick. You likely still are. Do you know who I am?"

She concentrated, realizing somewhere in the back of her mind that it shouldn't take her this long to figure things out. "Devon."

"Right." The other woman reached under the cot, bringing out something white. She laid it across Julia's forehead, and she realized it was a cool cloth. And that it felt wonderful.

"We're at Winter Camp," continued Devon. "Do you remember that?"

The words stirred some vague memories. "Think so."

"You spent so much time trying to take care of everyone else that you forgot to take care of yourself. John found you passed out on the floor when he came to get some more medicine for True."

True needed medicine? "Need to get up. If someone's sick."

"No. You're the one who's sick right now. Just lie back and relax."

"Only doctor here."

"Yes, but you've already figured out what this is and how to treat it. It's nothing more than G889's version of the common cold."

The common cold? She'd passed out from it!

"It's a little nastier than the Earth version," Devon explained as she re-adjusted the cloth. "Your notes suggest you think it's because we haven't yet had a chance to adapt to it. Of course, you didn't help yourself by pushing so hard."

"Oh." Now that she wasn't fighting so hard, remembering was easier. Alonzo had finally gotten well enough to go back to his own tent — he'd descended into true delirium, if his words to her had been any indication — and Uly had barely seemed to be affected at all. Everyone else had ended up somewhere in between, and she'd pulled Bess and Eben in for monitoring while she finished her secondary analysis of the pathogen.

Which meant, she realized, they should still be in the med-tent. "Where's —"

"Bess and Eben are in their tents. Their fevers broke overnight."

Overnight? "But how long —"

"You were down for thirty-six hours. Which is why you need to stay down and get up slowly now."

"The analyses —"

"Are done and waiting for when you're better."

"Want to see."

"No, and if you try, I'll give you a sedaderm to make you stay down. Honestly, you're worse than Uly ever was when he was sick. You need to rest, and you're going to. Quit arguing."

She opened her eyes, careful not to disturb the cloth on her forehead. "Might mean I'm feeling better."

"Do you really think that's going to work on me?" But Devon was smiling. "I'll make you a deal. You rest for another twenty-four hours, and then if you can get up by yourself, I won't say a word."

"Twelve hours." She'd be well enough by then.

"Eighteen."

Julia let herself sigh. She'd forgotten that Devon could be a cutthroat negotiator if the situation called for it. Besides, she really was still tired. "Fine. Eighteen."

"Good. That old cliché is certainly true: doctors really do seem to make the worst patients." Devon got to her feet. "Now, try to sleep. You won't wake up alone this time. I promise."

Her eyes drifted closed and she did just that.