ratherastory (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ratherastory) wrote2010-01-01 07:57 pm
ratherastory) wrote2010-01-01 07:57 pm
Entry tags:
Death Curse: Chapter 10
Title: Death Curse
Rating: Work-safe!
Book or TV verse: Book verse. I haven't seen the show
Summary: The problem with vampires who are also practitioners of magic, is well, that they are practitioners, with all that entails. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew? Set between White Night and Small Favor. Spoilers up to SF.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Jim Butcher, I'm just playing in his sandbox and hoping no one sends lawyers after me.
Chapter 9
*****
Did I mention that being sick is boring? Because it is. It's not just boring, though, it's horrifically uncomfortable, and it makes you feel like you're trying to swim uphill through molasses in January. The time that I didn't spend sleeping I spent lying in a half-stupor, wishing that I was asleep, or maybe dead. Dead didn't seem like a halfway bad state, compared to this. I was constantly too hot or too cold, I ached all over, my lungs burned with every breath, and I couldn't hold down anything more substantial than broth. Sometimes even the broth didn't stay down, which was unpleasant for everyone. I'm not a particularly good patient, either, and Thomas got the brunt of my bad mood, whenever I was coherent enough to complain about the pills he kept trying to get me to take. I think he was probably as frustrated as I was, if not more so, and was grateful when Charity came to take his place at mid-morning.
She came into the room and sat next to the bed. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I complained.
I got a disapproving frown. “Dresden, don't be difficult. You're ill, and that means we're going to ask how you're feeling so we can help.” I may have mumbled something about not needing help, which earned me a scowl. “Don't push me, Dresden. Christian charity only goes so far, and you're very lucky to have friends like my husband who care for you enough to put up with you, even like this. Now, spare me having to lecture you and just tell me how you're feeling.”
It's very hard not to be meek around Charity, let me tell you. She just inspires it in spades. “About the same as yesterday.”
“Fever, chills?”
I nodded, smothering a cough. “Butters thinks it might be a bad case of flu.”
“Hmph. Did he say anything else?”
I briefly considered lying to her, then thought better of it. “That I should consider a hospital if I'm not better by tomorrow.”
She nodded. “The man has some sense, then. Thomas tells me your fever got much worse during the night.”
“Could be. I don't remember much about last night. I half-expected to wake up in a strange bed,” I joked lamely.
“That's not funny, Dresden.”
“Sorry.” This time I couldn't keep the coughing at bay, and she stopped peppering me with questions, pulling my pillows behind me instead. When I was able to catch my breath she held a glass of water to my lips.
“I want you to try to finish the whole glass, all right? You're badly dehydrated.”
For the record, I'd like to say that I really did try to finish all the water. I did mention that I don't like to cross Charity on anything, and this was no exception. I think I managed a few swallows, but that was about as much as my stomach could handle. I pushed the glass away. “Can't. Sorry.”
She held the glass steady. “One more. Just try, please?”
I shook my head. “I can't.” My stomach roiled just at the thought. “Sorry. Going to be sick.”
She put the glass down. “Okay. We'll try again later. Take some deep breaths, it'll help.” She put her hand on mine, smoothing my hair back with her other hand. I don't know how she does it —maybe it's a mothering thing— but I felt myself relax under the gentle touch of her fingers with a sigh. She leaned closer. “I'll be back in a few minutes. Lie still.”
I'm not sure how much time passed, but it didn't seem like all that long before she was back, waking me with the gentlest brush of her fingers against my cheek. “Wake up, Dresden.” I murmured a protest, but she insisted, still gently. “Come on, I know you want to sleep, but we have to get fluids in you somehow. Come on, I'll help you, and then you can go back to sleep.”
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, and Charity helped me to sit up the rest of the way, and held another glass to my lips. I swallowed once, then looked at her in surprise. “Ginger ale?”
She smiled grimly. “Warm, flat ginger ale, yes. I figured it would go down better than water, and it'll help settle your stomach. I have five children, Dresden. Upset stomachs, colds and the flu have no mysteries for me anymore. Drink up.”
I acquitted myself pretty respectably, I like to think. I finished the whole glass, and let Charity take my temperature without complaining even once. She looked at the thermometer with a disapproving look with which I was becoming all too familiar.
“You're getting worse.”
I made a face at her. “I don't see how it's possible for me to get worse,” I tried to sound overly-melodramatic, and that earned me the disapproving look. Not exactly what I was going for.
“Don't be a smart-aleck, Dresden.”
“May as well ask the sun to change directions in the sky,” I quipped, and grinned at her. “I made you smile. Don't pretend it didn't happen, I totally saw it.”
She was smiling, in spite of herself. “Dresden, I can see right through your tricks. Don't try to change the subject. You're not getting better, and you should be, by now.”
I didn't feel like arguing. “I know. I told Butters I'd go to the hospital tomorrow if I wasn't better. I'd just... I'd rather avoid that if I can. I don't want to be responsible for something going wrong with the equipment there.”
Charity nodded. “I understand. Molly's been saying the same thing. I don't understand all of it, nor do I pretend to, but she says that there's something... strange... going on with you. Something about energy fluctuations. She says that it might be even riskier than usual to have you in the hospital, and I'm minded to listen to her on this matter. But I will say that I'm... uneasy... about this. I wish I knew more about this, instead of relying on the insights of a teenaged girl and a man half out of his mind with fever.”
I made a vaguely helpless gesture. “I'm sorry. This is all new to me, too. Mostly I just get shot or stabbed or beaten around the head. I'm not used to just plain sickness.”
She sighed. “It's not your fault, as much as I'd like to blame you for this. It would certainly make my life easier.” I blinked at her, wondering if she'd actually just made a joke. “If you're not better by tomorrow...”
“Why don't we cross that bridge when we come to it?” I suggested. “Right now, all I can think about is another nap.”
In deference to Charity, I made an effort to be good for the rest of the day. I still felt like death warmed over, and that part didn't get any better, but I managed not to snap at Charity, and spent most of the afternoon drowsing, slipping in and out of restless dreams. To my surprise, Murphy came back late in the evening, and earned herself a reproving glance from Charity.
“Don't tire him out.”
“I won't. How're you feeling, Harry?”
“Fine.”
“You're still a lousy liar. You don't look fine.”
I opened my eyes in time to see Charity exchange what could be described as a significant look with Murphy. “I still feel like hell, if that's what you wanted to know.”
Charity made her way to the door. “I'll give you a few minutes, shall I?”
“Thanks,” Murphy nodded and pulled up the chair next to my bed. “You've got everyone pretty worried, Harry. What's going on with you?”
I bit back a groan of frustration. “I don't know. I can't think straight. I keep thinking I'm missing something, but I can't hold a thought for more than a minute and it keeps getting all jumbled up...” I pressed a hand to my forehead, in a vain attempt to get things to make sense again, then gave it up as a bad job and lay back down. “Did I tell you about the vampires?” I kept my eyes closed as a wave of dizziness washed over me, and even though I knew it wouldn't do any good I felt my hands grip at the bed, as though to anchor myself in place. I had had something important to tell Murphy about the vampires, I just knew it, if only I could remember what it was.
“A little bit. Don't worry about it now, it can wait. You've given me enough to work with for now.”
“No, it's fine. I just need a minute...”
Okay, I was lying. It was considerably longer than a minute, and try as I might, I couldn't make my body do anything I wanted it to. Mostly what my body wanted me to do was lie there, and feel dizzy and way too hot, and being the easygoing sort of guy that I am, I obliged. I could hear people murmuring around me, but it was difficult to tell if the voices were all inside my head or if I was really hearing them, and after a while I didn't really care all that much anyway. The bed got too hot really fast, but annoyingly someone kept pulling a sheet back over me every time I tried to throw off the covers. I remember making some sort of protesting noise, but it made little difference. Someone placed a cool cloth on my head and murmured something that sounded soothing, and for a few moments I felt better, and drifted back to sleep.
*****
Chapter 11
Rating: Work-safe!
Book or TV verse: Book verse. I haven't seen the show
Summary: The problem with vampires who are also practitioners of magic, is well, that they are practitioners, with all that entails. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew? Set between White Night and Small Favor. Spoilers up to SF.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Jim Butcher, I'm just playing in his sandbox and hoping no one sends lawyers after me.
Chapter 9
Did I mention that being sick is boring? Because it is. It's not just boring, though, it's horrifically uncomfortable, and it makes you feel like you're trying to swim uphill through molasses in January. The time that I didn't spend sleeping I spent lying in a half-stupor, wishing that I was asleep, or maybe dead. Dead didn't seem like a halfway bad state, compared to this. I was constantly too hot or too cold, I ached all over, my lungs burned with every breath, and I couldn't hold down anything more substantial than broth. Sometimes even the broth didn't stay down, which was unpleasant for everyone. I'm not a particularly good patient, either, and Thomas got the brunt of my bad mood, whenever I was coherent enough to complain about the pills he kept trying to get me to take. I think he was probably as frustrated as I was, if not more so, and was grateful when Charity came to take his place at mid-morning.
She came into the room and sat next to the bed. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I complained.
I got a disapproving frown. “Dresden, don't be difficult. You're ill, and that means we're going to ask how you're feeling so we can help.” I may have mumbled something about not needing help, which earned me a scowl. “Don't push me, Dresden. Christian charity only goes so far, and you're very lucky to have friends like my husband who care for you enough to put up with you, even like this. Now, spare me having to lecture you and just tell me how you're feeling.”
It's very hard not to be meek around Charity, let me tell you. She just inspires it in spades. “About the same as yesterday.”
“Fever, chills?”
I nodded, smothering a cough. “Butters thinks it might be a bad case of flu.”
“Hmph. Did he say anything else?”
I briefly considered lying to her, then thought better of it. “That I should consider a hospital if I'm not better by tomorrow.”
She nodded. “The man has some sense, then. Thomas tells me your fever got much worse during the night.”
“Could be. I don't remember much about last night. I half-expected to wake up in a strange bed,” I joked lamely.
“That's not funny, Dresden.”
“Sorry.” This time I couldn't keep the coughing at bay, and she stopped peppering me with questions, pulling my pillows behind me instead. When I was able to catch my breath she held a glass of water to my lips.
“I want you to try to finish the whole glass, all right? You're badly dehydrated.”
For the record, I'd like to say that I really did try to finish all the water. I did mention that I don't like to cross Charity on anything, and this was no exception. I think I managed a few swallows, but that was about as much as my stomach could handle. I pushed the glass away. “Can't. Sorry.”
She held the glass steady. “One more. Just try, please?”
I shook my head. “I can't.” My stomach roiled just at the thought. “Sorry. Going to be sick.”
She put the glass down. “Okay. We'll try again later. Take some deep breaths, it'll help.” She put her hand on mine, smoothing my hair back with her other hand. I don't know how she does it —maybe it's a mothering thing— but I felt myself relax under the gentle touch of her fingers with a sigh. She leaned closer. “I'll be back in a few minutes. Lie still.”
I'm not sure how much time passed, but it didn't seem like all that long before she was back, waking me with the gentlest brush of her fingers against my cheek. “Wake up, Dresden.” I murmured a protest, but she insisted, still gently. “Come on, I know you want to sleep, but we have to get fluids in you somehow. Come on, I'll help you, and then you can go back to sleep.”
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, and Charity helped me to sit up the rest of the way, and held another glass to my lips. I swallowed once, then looked at her in surprise. “Ginger ale?”
She smiled grimly. “Warm, flat ginger ale, yes. I figured it would go down better than water, and it'll help settle your stomach. I have five children, Dresden. Upset stomachs, colds and the flu have no mysteries for me anymore. Drink up.”
I acquitted myself pretty respectably, I like to think. I finished the whole glass, and let Charity take my temperature without complaining even once. She looked at the thermometer with a disapproving look with which I was becoming all too familiar.
“You're getting worse.”
I made a face at her. “I don't see how it's possible for me to get worse,” I tried to sound overly-melodramatic, and that earned me the disapproving look. Not exactly what I was going for.
“Don't be a smart-aleck, Dresden.”
“May as well ask the sun to change directions in the sky,” I quipped, and grinned at her. “I made you smile. Don't pretend it didn't happen, I totally saw it.”
She was smiling, in spite of herself. “Dresden, I can see right through your tricks. Don't try to change the subject. You're not getting better, and you should be, by now.”
I didn't feel like arguing. “I know. I told Butters I'd go to the hospital tomorrow if I wasn't better. I'd just... I'd rather avoid that if I can. I don't want to be responsible for something going wrong with the equipment there.”
Charity nodded. “I understand. Molly's been saying the same thing. I don't understand all of it, nor do I pretend to, but she says that there's something... strange... going on with you. Something about energy fluctuations. She says that it might be even riskier than usual to have you in the hospital, and I'm minded to listen to her on this matter. But I will say that I'm... uneasy... about this. I wish I knew more about this, instead of relying on the insights of a teenaged girl and a man half out of his mind with fever.”
I made a vaguely helpless gesture. “I'm sorry. This is all new to me, too. Mostly I just get shot or stabbed or beaten around the head. I'm not used to just plain sickness.”
She sighed. “It's not your fault, as much as I'd like to blame you for this. It would certainly make my life easier.” I blinked at her, wondering if she'd actually just made a joke. “If you're not better by tomorrow...”
“Why don't we cross that bridge when we come to it?” I suggested. “Right now, all I can think about is another nap.”
In deference to Charity, I made an effort to be good for the rest of the day. I still felt like death warmed over, and that part didn't get any better, but I managed not to snap at Charity, and spent most of the afternoon drowsing, slipping in and out of restless dreams. To my surprise, Murphy came back late in the evening, and earned herself a reproving glance from Charity.
“Don't tire him out.”
“I won't. How're you feeling, Harry?”
“Fine.”
“You're still a lousy liar. You don't look fine.”
I opened my eyes in time to see Charity exchange what could be described as a significant look with Murphy. “I still feel like hell, if that's what you wanted to know.”
Charity made her way to the door. “I'll give you a few minutes, shall I?”
“Thanks,” Murphy nodded and pulled up the chair next to my bed. “You've got everyone pretty worried, Harry. What's going on with you?”
I bit back a groan of frustration. “I don't know. I can't think straight. I keep thinking I'm missing something, but I can't hold a thought for more than a minute and it keeps getting all jumbled up...” I pressed a hand to my forehead, in a vain attempt to get things to make sense again, then gave it up as a bad job and lay back down. “Did I tell you about the vampires?” I kept my eyes closed as a wave of dizziness washed over me, and even though I knew it wouldn't do any good I felt my hands grip at the bed, as though to anchor myself in place. I had had something important to tell Murphy about the vampires, I just knew it, if only I could remember what it was.
“A little bit. Don't worry about it now, it can wait. You've given me enough to work with for now.”
“No, it's fine. I just need a minute...”
Okay, I was lying. It was considerably longer than a minute, and try as I might, I couldn't make my body do anything I wanted it to. Mostly what my body wanted me to do was lie there, and feel dizzy and way too hot, and being the easygoing sort of guy that I am, I obliged. I could hear people murmuring around me, but it was difficult to tell if the voices were all inside my head or if I was really hearing them, and after a while I didn't really care all that much anyway. The bed got too hot really fast, but annoyingly someone kept pulling a sheet back over me every time I tried to throw off the covers. I remember making some sort of protesting noise, but it made little difference. Someone placed a cool cloth on my head and murmured something that sounded soothing, and for a few moments I felt better, and drifted back to sleep.
Chapter 11