Welcome to my whump blog 😇

River couldn’t stay behind his desk. It was too bright, too loud, and if he eventually would throw up, he would be on display for everyone at Slough House to see. 

River very slowly got to his feet. A stab of pain shot through his head and his stomach jolted ominously again. His vision blurred and the room spun if he moved too fast. The light from outside felt like a flashlight being shone straight into his eyes, and the creaking of the floorboards under his shoes angered his headache. 

Stumbling, River made for the only place in Slough House that might offer some solace to him: the supply room. It was a small, windowless room where anyone only ever came when they were in need of staples or spare pens.  Still not sure he would be able to keep his lunch down, River clutched his trash can. It took all his willpower to put one foot in front of the other and not just collapse and curl up on the floor. He needed the wall for support as black spots clouded his vision and his balance was completely gone. 

By some small miracle, River managed to reach Slough House’s supply room without anyone noticing or collapsing to the ground. He retreated into the pleasant darkness and quietness of the small room, closing the door quietly behind him. Another dry heave made him put his head in the trash can, but still nothing came out.  River breathed heavily as he collapsed onto the ground, sagging against the racks that held Slough House’s stock of office supplies. He loosely hugged the trash can in his lap, as his brain tried to hammer itself out of his skull. He closed his eyes against the flashes of light that shot through his vision, and his ears were filled with the sound of his own rushing blood. 

A whimper of complete misery rolled off River’s lips. He trembled, and all he wished for was to fall asleep and not wake up until this migraine was over. And if that had to be in Slough House’s supply room, then so be it. 

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That was how Catherine found River several hours later.  She was the last one in the office and meant to restock the printer’s paper before going home, as it had run low after printing some reports for Lamb to read tomorrow.

Catherine yelped in fright when she pulled open the door to the supply room and found River half-sitting, half-lying on the floor, sagged against the supply racks. River jolted awake. At some point he had fallen into an uneasy sleep, although it had done nothing to relieve his migraine so far. He winced against the sudden presence of light and sound, which were both torture to his head. 

"Oh, my god, River!" Catherine exclaimed.  "Please, please, keep your voice down," River groaned. "Migraine." He made a half-hearted gesture towards his head.  "Oh, River…" Catherine’s initial shock made way for compassion. "How long have you been like this?" "Don’t know… few hours…" River mumbled. He leant over the trash can when another dry heave made him gag, but still he couldn’t actually throw up. His head throbbed with the renewed presence of light, sound and movement.  "Why didn’t you say something to any of us?" Catherine asked quietly.  River only gave a half-shrug of his shoulders in response. 

"Well, I’m taking you home now." Catherine stated firmly. "Where are your car keys?" "Desk." River groaned. He wasn’t sure he would be able to get up and move without collapsing back to the floor, but the thought of lying in his bed and burying himself under his duvet was a delightful foresight. 

Catherine disappeared to fetch the car keys.  River pulled himself to his feet using the racks. The effort made his head throb even worse and spiked his nausea. He whimpered, resisting the urge to lie right back down and curl up in misery. The room seemed to make waves around him, and he trembled all over as he tried to remain on his feet. 

River felt a gentle arm snake around his waist, steadying him. Catherine was back. "Come on." She purposefully kept her voice as soft as possible. "I’ve brought the car out front, so you don’t have to walk all the way to the garage." River responded to the soft tug of Catherine’s arm around his waist, and slowly started moving.

-----

Exactly how he managed to get into the car and through the subsequent car ride, River would never know. Most of what happened after he left Slough House, would be a blur to him afterwards. 

River could tell Catherine was driving extra carefully, but even the slightest movement of the car made him more nauseous, and every sound and spark of light was like a stab to his head. River sat in the passenger seat with the trash can in his lap as a precaution. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

At some point River must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew was Catherine gently shaking his arm. "We’re here," she said softly.  River looked round at the quiet street, but didn’t recognize it immediately. "This is your apartment." It finally clicked.  "Of course," Catherine replied, "you really think I’m going to leave you alone in your current state? No, absolutely not, you're staying with me at least until the worst of this is over."

River didn’t reply and he didn’t protest. Even through all his misery, he gave Catherine a small, thankful smile and went inside with her. 

-----

River awoke slowly. He lay spread-eagled on his front in a bed and room he didn’t recognize. The bedspread with floral print which covered him surely wasn’t of his choosing.  He needed a good part of 15 seconds to remember what had happened and where he was, but finally his brain supplied him with some vague memories of the day before. 

River raised his head off the pillow to look around himself. The trash can from Slough House stood beside the bed. A bottle of water and some crackers stood on the bedside table, along with a packet of aspirin. A little further away stood his shoes, neatly placed next to each other, and the jacket River had been wearing hung over the back of a chair in the corner. 

Groaning softly, River rolled himself onto his back. Apart from his jacket and shoes, he still wore the same shirt and jeans as yesterday. The bundle of sunlight streaming in through a crack in the curtains told him it was morning and that he had most likely slept around the clock. The migraine was blissfully gone. His mind felt rather woolly and slow, but there no longer was that excruciating headache. The muscles in River’s neck and shoulders ached dully after cramping up with the migraine. All in all, River felt like he was hungover, but at least he was back in the land of the living. 

River slowly sat up. He expected his head to start hurting again, but he was relieved when that didn’t happen. He heard faint noises from the other side of the bedroom door, which meant Catherine was awake, too.  River swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His movements were slow and calculated, half-expecting for his migraine to come back after all. But as he got to his feet, wincing as he rolled his aching shoulders, River was finally confident that the migraine was really gone. 

A mirror hung on one of the walls. River glanced at his own, tired-looking reflection in it. His hair was a mess, tousled, strands sticking out in every direction. He tried to make it lie a little more flat, but it was a hopeless attempt and finally he gave up. 

River opened the bedroom door and strode out of it. He still felt like his entire body moved in slow motion, but at least he was up and moving without his head exploding with pain or a wave of nausea hitting him. The daylight that came into the apartment didn’t make him wince, nor did the sound of the morning news playing on the television make him want to cover his ears. 

"River? Are you up?" Catherine’s voice came from the living room. "Yes." River stepped through the door opening. "Goodmorning." Catherine jumped up from the sofa where she had sat reading the morning paper on her tablet. "Are you feeling a bit better?" River nodded. "Tired, but the worst is over." "Good. You looked like a real mess yesterday." Catherine pointed at the armchair in her living room. "Sit down. I’ll get you some tea and a light breakfast." "That’s really not necessary," River protested. "Nonsense." Catherine was adamant. "You have to eat something and you have to stay hydrated."

Catherine returned from the kitchen several minutes later, carrying a large mug of steaming tea and a plate with a few crackers and cheese.  River accepted both gratefully. He didn’t think he was hungry, but after the first bite of a cracker he found that he actually was. 

"Thank you." River set the empty plate on the coffee table in front of him. Catherine had sat back down on the sofa and watched River eat. "I can make you some more if you want to?" "No," River answered quickly. "That’s not what I meant, I… thank you for helping me."

Catherine didn’t immediately respond, but River sensed her unspoken question in the air.  "Why didn’t you ask for help yesterday?" Catherine finally voiced what she had wanted to ask since the day before. "Why hide in the supply room? If I hadn’t found you, you would’ve been there all night!" River stared silently into his mug of tea, almost as if he hoped it would provide him with some wisdom. "I– I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone."

Catherine felt her heart break a little at that. Behind River’s usual defense of sarcasm and facade of bravado, there actually was a man filled with hurt and insecurities. People rarely glimpsed behind the walls he’d built up so high, but right now, Catherine realized she was getting a peek. 

"How long have you had these migraines?" Catherine asked softly. "Because something tells me this wasn’t the first time." River looked up at her. The look in his eyes told she had asked a deeply personal question, and most likely a rather painful one, too.  "I had the first one the night after Stansted." River’s voice quivered with the emotions he fought hard to suppress. "It… it took me out for three days. Ever since then I’ve had them once or twice a year. I don’t know what causes it, but I’m essentially non-functional for at least a day whenever I have one." Catherine watched River for a few seconds. "Does it get triggered by situations where you crop up all your emotions and refuse to talk about it?" River didn’t speak, but the single tear that rolled down his cheek said more than words ever could. 

"Oh, River!" Catherine moved to kneel down in front of him and took his hand in hers. "There’s no need to be so hard on yourself!" "What else do I have?" River scoffed. "I’m a failure." "No, you’re not," Catherine said firmly. "I know people like to throw that at you, but you’re a talented and smart young man." River glanced at her. His eyes shone brightly with tears which hadn’t fallen yet. But after this short moment of vulnerability, Catherine already saw the walls start to come back up again. 

River wiped the tear off his cheek, fed up with himself. He was thankful for Catherine’s help and concern, but he had shown much more of himself than he wanted to.  "Please, don’t ever mention any of this at Slough House," River grumbled. "Especially to Lamb." Catherine smiled. "I won’t tell anyone, I swear. But, River, I do need you to promise me something in return." "What?" He shrugged.  "The next time you have a migraine you come to me. No more hiding in the supply room." Catherine looked dead-serious. "No one needs to know, it’ll be our little secret." River smiled faintly, nodding. I promise."